The Atlas Six (The Atlas 1)

Even to Reina, the glance between Dalton and Parisa was intensely loaded. Whether something had happened between them already or not was unclear, but there was no doubt some version of it would be happening again soon.

“What are you doing?” Reina asked bluntly, cutting off Parisa’s path through the house during one of their afternoons away from research. “What exactly is the point?”

Parisa’s eyes slid to hers, irritated. “What?”

“Read my mind,” Reina suggested facetiously. Parisa’s glance in return was equally annoyed.

“Why should there be a point? He’s attractive. I’m bored.” As Reina suspected, Parisa had clearly read her thoughts already.

“You can’t honestly think I’m that stupid,” Reina said. “Nor do I think you’re that stupid.”

“Thank you, I think,” Parisa said, bristling in her lofty way, “but is there any reason you oppose this, or are you just rejoicing in being obtuse?”

“I don’t give a damn what you choose to do,” Reina said. “But I don’t like it when things don’t make sense. I don’t trust it, and I don’t trust you.”

Parisa sighed loudly. “Shouldn’t you be off playing with one of the other children?”

It never stopped being outrageous how the older three looked down on Libby and Nico, though it was far more ridiculous when people speculated separating them; venturing, as Callum often muttered, that one was more bearable than the other. In Reina’s mind, they were binary stars, trapped in each other’s gravitational field and easily diminished without the other’s opposing force. She wasn’t at all surprised when she discovered one was right-handed (Nico) and the other left (Libby).

“Deny it all you like, but those two have already proven their value,” Reina said. “What have you contributed so far?”

“What have you?” Parisa snapped. “You’re an academic. You can be an academic with or without the Society.”

Whereas Parisa was the oldest type of working woman in the book.

“Oh, very nice,” Parisa said, hearing Reina’s not-so-carefully concealed distaste. “You think that’s what this is? I’m some sort of gold-digging succubus and now you’re going to drag me before the magistrates?”

“‘Succubus’ is more flattering than the word I had in mind,” said Reina.

Parisa rolled her eyes.

“Look, I can see—even if you can’t—that you think you ought to feel sorry for me. It’s nice of you. And totally unnecessary.” Parisa’s mouth tightened. “Callum is not punishing me. He’s trying to beat me, but he won’t. And you might wonder who you should choose between us, but I can tell you right now: if you knew what I know, you’d choose me over him every time.”

“Then why not tell us what you know?” Reina demanded, only half-believing her. “If you hate him so much.”

“I don’t hate him. I feel nothing toward him. And if you knew what was good for you, so would you,” Parisa warned, as the potted Calathea in the corner shivered prophetically. “Now, are we done here?”

Yes. No. In a way, Reina had gotten exactly what she’d come for. Parisa was pursuing Dalton; confirmed. Parisa had something against Callum; confirmed. The ‘why’ of it all remained a bit distressing.

Unfortunately, Parisa could see as much.

“You know why you don’t understand me?” Parisa answered Reina’s thoughts, stepping closer to lower her voice. “Because you think you’ve figured me out. You think you’ve met me before, other versions of women like me, but you have no idea what I am. You think my looks are what make me? My ambitions? You can’t begin to know the sum of my parts, and you can stare all you like, but you won’t see a damn thing until I show you.”

It would be too easy to argue. It would be precisely what she wanted.

Not that silence was any different; Parisa looked unduly satisfied.

“Don’t envy me, Reina,” she advised softly, turning to say it in Reina’s ear. “Fear me.”

Then she made her way down the corridor, disappearing from sight.

PARISA

She could always tell where he was in the house. For one thing, there were huge amounts of magic around him; knots of it, tangled, and they seemed to arise in bursts, like flames. For another, his thoughts were less guarded when he was working, owing to the fact that he typically worked alone. He was very often alone, unless he was walking the grounds with Atlas or instructing the six of them in some way, or if he were working with Society members who came in for special projects.

At night he slept very little; she could hear his thoughts buzzing, localizing around something she couldn’t identify from far away, until she recognized the sound of something unmistakable.

Parisa.