Page 91 of Unraveling Fate

Twenty-Two

“Call Thomas Learmonth on speaker.” After talking to Vasilios, Canon had left as quickly as he could while seeming natural and unrushed. Let Vasilios think they’d go together on Monday, that his game was running according to plan. Canon would go during the oracle heist—he had to distract Thomas anyway—and beat him to the play.

The phone rang through the speakers of his Mercedes, and he spoke as soon as Learmonth picked up. “Thomas.”

“Mr. Richards,” Thomas answered. “What is it this time, then?”

“I’d like to see you tomorrow night to continue our negotiations.”

Thomas sighed over the line. “I told you, lad. I’ll not help you.”

Canon’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. “I have the words, Thomas.”

Silence.

Canon waited. Waiting was never the hard part.

“Do you now?” Thomas finally spoke, voice low. “And do you also know the risks inherent in using those words?”

Canon’s turn to be silent.Recalculate. Adjust to the new information.Because Vasilios had said nothing of risks. Why would a cog need to know about risks?

Canon took a slow breath and forced his fingers to relax on the wheel. He was playing this game for Cadenza. Risk was part of business. And he was no cog.

“Tell me.”

Canon pulledup in front of his mother’s condo, the sky beginning to blush pink and tangerine. The perfect Southern California sunrise stabbed at his eyes, already dry and blurry from eight hours on the I-5.

Last night, Thomas had explained the risks. Canon would face a test. Pass, and he’d be King. Fail, and… Well. Fail and none of it—the election, his plans, Cadenza—would matter anymore. When he got off the phone, Canon had pulled off the I-580 near Livermore, still hours out from Sonora, to think things over in the dark parking lot of an all-night cafe.

Vasilios wanted a puppet. Canon’s gift confirmed that, but his information on the world of Guardians and Spinners and Crown was still new, and he didn’t know yet what Vasilios wanted to use that puppet to do.

Whatever it was, Canon wasn’t doing it. But his former mentor was right about two things.

One: Thomas had the ability to make Canon more extraordinary than his first gift of Sight had made him. The Crown was no cog. The Crown turned the wheel.

And two: The Crown made a difference. Vasilios had talked of Canon calming the chaos of the world, of helping people live better lives.

He wanted that.

As much as he wanted to satisfy his own ambitions, he wanted that. And he planned on doing it two-fold, as Crown, and through a successful political career. Surely after being made Crown, people would see the extraordinary emanating from him, even if they knew nothing of Fates or Guardians. How could they fail to elect him? And Cadenza. She would see it too.

Those reasons ought to be enough for him to ink his name on the contract. To get back on the freeway and be ready to meet with Thomas tomorrow night. And yet, there he’d sat, staring at a faded poster of pancakes hanging in a dirty window.

Because even with those reasons staring him in the face, compelling him to act, Canon didn’t want toneedwhat Thomas Learmonth could give him, and he had a question—a doubt—that needed resolving before he committed, especially considering he was risking his life.

He’d brought his Mercedes to life but headed south, away from Sonora, and driven all night. Now he blinked in the morning light outside his mother’s place in San Diego. After his father passed away, she’d made a series of investments with the life insurance money. Apparently, she had a talent for it. After Canon graduated and moved out, she’d taken her new wealth and her new financial advising business and started over with a new home near the beach. No more shabby Hayward for her.

Canon had negotiated; San Diego wasn’t exactly easy visiting distance. She could sell the house he grew up in and start her fancy new life, provided she did all the traveling for the holidays. Every Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, and Christmas since, they’d celebrated at his apartment in Hayward. Until he’d moved in with Drostan.

Drostan.Canon groaned and rubbed his eyes. By now Reyna would have told them all what shethoughthappened—that he’d refused to help rescue Cadenza. With his previous confessionabout working for Thomas, they’d never believe him about what he was doing now. Unless he became Crown. That would make it clear. They’d all be on the same team. But first he had to talk to his mother about this doubt needling him, and he needed to do it in person. Over the phone wouldn’t cut it.

Movement twitched on the second floor of his mother’s building. A neighbor eyed his car through the window, lips pursed in suspicion.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, have I stayed insidemycar, onyourstreet for too long?” He dropped his head back against the seat, weary of the keep-up, make-your-mark, get-ahead world he’d chased for so long.

The neighbor pulled out her phone, glaring at him.

Canon sighed. He’d been stalling, picking over all the thoughts he’d already picked over for the last eight hours. Time to go inside.