The Atlas Paradox Sneak Peek by Olivie Blake

Author:Olivie Blake
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tor Publishing Group

. PARISA .

Tristan, bless him, ducked.

“Bloody Christ,” he swore aloud, stumbling to dodge the ire of Libby Rhodes that he seemed to have invented for himself—as if his own stumble with morality had somehow divinely necessitated her absence. If Parisa had been paying less attention to the ritual at hand, she might have found Tristan’s absurd deduction of survival guilt to be funny. But something told her that whatever was going on was not very funny at all.

She glanced at Reina, whose forehead had appeared unceasingly creased in thought since she’d woken from her initiation rite. Was “woken” the right word? Had it felt like a dream? Parisa reached around a bit with her magic, creeping in like light through a crack.

But Reina glanced at her instantly, recognizing the traces of Parisa’s magic in her mind. Nice try, Reina offered from her head, giving Parisa a gesture that could only be called uncouth, and promptly shut down.

Well. This was precisely why Parisa never spent too much time with anyone. Inevitably, one could learn how another person thought. In other versions of the same situation, that could be called intimacy, or friendship. In this one it was a nuisance.

From the corner of her eye, she could see the tiny quirk of Atlas’s mouth.

I take it you think this is funny? she asked him.

He did not respond, either telepathically or with any visible indication of having heard her. Since he had entered the room, he had been particularly stoic, even going so far as to position himself cryptically in the shadow of a bookcase. She considered poking around in his thoughts as well but could tell that her efforts would be wasted. He was especially well-armored today, and had been ever since Libby’s disappearance.

(Which was something to be suspicious about, obviously. But there was a time and a place for such things.)

Parisa turned her attention back to Reina, who was sulking. Presumably Reina was feeling self-conscious about the fact that she’d conjured up Parisa, though that was a waste of time. Firstly, it wasn’t like Parisa had never seen herself naked before. Partially because some of her inamoratas enjoyed filming themselves in various clandestine states, but, also, because contrary to what she told people—or rather, contrary to what she allowed them to believe—Parisa had actually made the majority of her expendable income as an art model during her university years. She had long ago embraced her value as an object of beauty, not unlike a flower or a statue. She had learned how to position herself for the best angles, the most expressive looks, all for the sake of bettering other people’s perception of her.

Seeing herself reflected in the eyes of others did not bother her at all. If anything, it gave her more material to work with. In the end, there were many artists and students during that time, some bolder than others, who had approached her for the purpose of showing her what they themselves had seen in her. Here was the light in her eyes, and here was the shading on her breasts.

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