Chapter 4
“You’re doing excellent,” Ambrose mused, patting Marcus on the shoulder as he stood over the boy in the dining room.
“You’re reading so much faster!” Constance cheered.
Marcus looked sheepishly at the young girl, a small grin spread on his lips.
Together, Constance and Ambrose had taken up the task of teaching Marcus how to read, along with some basic knowledge of math, science, history, and anything he may need. It filled Ambrose’s heart every time the young boy learned something new, to take care of the one Lila had loved so much.
“Thank you, Lord Draven.”
But, lords, Marcus was even meeker than Lila had been when she first arrived at the Crow Court.
“I’ve told you, Marcus—Ambrose is fine.”
Constance rolled her eyes. “Everyone calls you Lord Draven, Lord Draven. You’re only trying to make him call you that because you want him to be your future brother-in-law.” A coy smile spread on the girl’s lips. Ambrose needed to remind himself the cute little girl he’d saved from the Arachnid Estate was becoming a little woman every day. She looked like a tiny adult, with the baby fat still in her cheeks. But now, with Marcus in the manor, Ambrose found Constance trying to look more and more like a lady.
Lords, he wasn’t sure what he would do with two teenagers running around the place.
Ambrose groaned as he took his seat at the head of the table. “Remind me to send you back to Maronai till you come of age.”
Constance harrumphed and crossed her arms over her chest, eliciting a small giggle to slip through Marcus’s lips. Immediately, Constance’s pale cheeks turned a light shade of pink. He quickly covered his mouth with his hands, hiding his smile, and a new kind of ache formed in Ambrose’s chest. The boy was so young. And he lived his entire life in fear for himself and for the only person who’d protected him. And now he was alone, here, while she was suffering even more torture.
It reminded Ambrose of his early years as a slave, when he was still with his younger brother—though, in truth, he often thought of him. He’d been sold off before Ambrose—just . . . there one day, and gone the next. Where had he gone? Had he survived long enough to see adulthood? How was he treated? Ambrose wondered if many of these thoughts ran through Marcus’s mind. He’d noticed the guilt cloud over the boy’s features at the mention of Lila. It seemed as though Marcus wasn’t allowing himself to smile, to laugh, to be comfortable—not till his sister was home and safe.
Ambrose’s grip tightened on the armrest of his seat. Lila Bran. That damned, gorgeous, hellfire of a woman. He wasn’t sure if he was cursing her drive for closure or praising her bravery. But he knew he fucking missed her. And, evidently, so did the rest of her family.
“Lor—Ambrose,” Marcus corrected, his voice small and meek, like Lila’s was. “Have you heard from my sister?”
Ambrose leaned back in his chair. “I spoke to her yesterday. The Reinicks were leaving her unattended for a while, so she should’ve had some time to herself.”
Marcus looked relieved. He knew what a few hours of solace meant to Lila. It’s what it once meant to him.
But now, Ambrose swore he’d keep him safe, no matter the cost.
“She sends her love. To both of you, and Kaz—”
Pollock squawked on the back of the seat above him.
“I was getting to you, fiend. And Pollock.”
A small, happy chirp came from the bird as he hopped back and forth on his feet.
Ambrose breathed a laugh as he stood. “Now, I must attend to other matters. Constance, can you take over the rest of his lessons for the day?”
Constance nodded and scooched her chair closer to Marcus. The same shade of pink Ambrose had just seen on Constance’s cheeks now illuminated from Marcus’s as the girl neared him.
“Here,” he said, pulling out a book from under the table. It was Lila’s book of fairy tales. “I think this will be helpful to practice from.” Ambrose handed them the book, and they immediately flipped it open.
As Constance pointed to the words, Marcus began sounding out the letters, making complete sentences, then paragraphs, and as the two entered their own world of words and stories, Ambrose slipped out of the dining room.
Every time he entered his main hall, he was reminded of images of Lila. Lila, running down the staircase in the evenings. Lila, in his arms when he first carried her inside, bleeding all over the place. Lila, sneaking into his office when she didn’t think he was watching. He saw ghosts of her everywhere—and every time, he wished they were more than ghosts. He wished they were her.
“Ah, Master Ambrose, I was looking for you.” Kaz walked through the back doors leading in from the garden. “The reports have come back. Master Maronai and Master Nostro have reported an influx of strigoi sightings in their cities and towns farthest from their manors. They’re slowly infiltrating.”
Kazimir handed Ambrose a folder of papers. Great, Ambrose thought as he heaved a sigh. Flipping through them, he saw a slew of information: population reports, death tolls, strigoi sightings in the three manors. As he flipped to the last page, Kaz continued, “While Maronai and Nostro obviously know, the entirety of Malvania still seems to be under the impression you are dead. Which hasn’t been boding well for the citizens of the Crow Court.”
“Has there been hysteria?”
“Nearly. It has been so long since the fall of a manor, no one knows what it means for them. The people of the Crow Court are worried a new lord will come to power, and others fear division between the already existing manors.”
“Which is unfortunate for those in the south,” Ambrose guessed.
“Correct. Our reports from the Southern Tail are looking grim. People are moving north or east, some even slipping into the Arachnid Estate. Maronai states he doesn’t mind, but people are doing whatever is needed to get as far from the Viper Morada border as possible.”
“And Drusilla? Has she been spotted?”
Kaz nodded. “Unfortunately for Miss Bran, she was spotted with the brothers just yesterday, presumably on their way back to the manor.”
Ambrose clenched his fist, feeling the bite of his nails against his palm. Though she wasn’t a lord, Drusilla was much older than either of the Reinick brothers—and far smarter. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had the brothers wrapped around her claws. She and Ciro could go head-to-head and it may be a fair fight, but against Hektor? She would destroy him. To have not just the brothers but now Drusilla as well in the Morada, Lila would need to be extra careful.
After gulping his frustration, Ambrose clenched his jaw and asked the question he’d been dreading. “Do any of our people know what Drusilla and the brothers were doing while they were away from the Morada? Lila told me they had been leaving more and more frequently.”
Kaz’s face fell, causing Ambrose to immediately stiffen. “I think we should discuss this in your office, sir.”
Fuck.
The two hurried through the hall, past the stairs, and into Ambrose’s office. The room was surrounded by crows, all perched in their unique spots, but their caws all but stopped the moment Ambrose entered the room. He paced the floor as Kaz sat down in the seat across his desk.
Before speaking, Kaz took a deep breath. “Obviously, sir, it isn’t good.”
Ambrose folded his arms over his chest, mostly to hide the twitches in his fingers. Lila was there, in the thick of it. He didn’t know what he was about to hear, but he was ready to jump from this window and fly to the Morada at that moment to get her out of there. Even if it meant flying in daylight. Even if it meant ruining all of Lila’s plans. Even if it meant destroying himself in the process. He would do it to make her safe.
“Go on,” he choked out.
Kaz, in habit it seemed, started to organize Ambrose’s desks. “It seems Drusilla Reclus is going with the Reinick siblings to different murine settlements around the Morada. They’ve already hit three of their major cities.”
“And what are they doing, killing them? Are they idiots? They’ll eliminate their food supply.”
“Well, they are taking some back to the Morada. Very few. The rest, however . . .”
Fear settled in Ambrose’s bones. The Reinicks were idiots, he didn’t question it. But Drusilla wasn’t. She was tactfully smart. She had waged wars, fought battles, and demolished civilizations during the Mass Death. She helped create the original eight vampire manors, and helped destroy the four that fell.
She was power hungry and wanted her own. It was why she was on this quest now.
“What?” Ambrose bit out, harsher than he had intended.
Kaz’s white mustache wiggled—something he often did when nervous—and then he finally spoke. “They are turning the rest into new strigoi. She’s already tripled the amount Lila healed during your battle. And that isn’t accounting for the numerous she had hidden away. More and more are being changed by her strigoi, and the remaining fear, since the Crow Court was hit, they will be Drusilla’s next targets.”
Ambrose needed to hit something.
“And no reports of Lila healing any new strigoi?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“No reports of Lila at all. She has been kept under lock and key. Our crows haven’t even spotted a glimpse of her as they spy on the manor.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Ambrose knew she was okay—or, mostly okay. But not having the visual confirmation hurt, driving him mad.
“Kaz, tell me something—anything—that will keep me from flying there right now,” Ambrose heard the begging in his own voice. He wasn’t a begging man—or, at least he had never been one before Lila—but right now, he was afraid his heart wouldn’t be able to handle much more of this.
Though he wasn’t facing him, Ambrose felt Kaz’s emotions behind him. Distress, sorrow, concern, fear. His heart rate accelerated after Ambrose’s last question, and before the man even opened his mouth, Ambrose knew what he was going to say.
“I’m sorry, sir. I have nothing.”
And just like that, all of Ambrose’s hope abandoned him.
It was funny. Lila had taught Ambrose to hope again. She warmed his heart, his life, and with that came her love. Her love was hope. It was inspiring and uplifting, and it made him feel like he could do anything, be anything.
And, for her, he wanted to be better.
With a quick and solemn nod, Ambrose muttered, “Thank you,” dismissing Kazimir all together. Without waiting for the man to leave the room, Ambrose hurried out into the hall.
Lila?he tried. It was rare she was able to respond, which was why he had waited for her to establish the Concord link every morning.
Lila, please. I just need a single word to know you’re all right.
Still, nothing.
Ambrose hurried through the manor, down the stairs into the basement, through the dungeons, and into his training room. He threw his shirt and grabbed two daggers from the wall.
His knuckles whitened as he felt the bend of the metal in his grip, but he wasted no time. He lashed out against the training dummies around him, slashing and gutting all of them in a furious whirlwind of blows. He punched and kicked with all his might, created craters in the bags, sand spilling all across the floor. When it wasn’t enough, he turned to the stone wall.
Anger seethed through him, like a tidal wave he couldn’t control, he couldn’t taper. It bubbled and boiled till it felt like his skin would peel from his bones, and the scream of frustration would rumble through his lungs, his throat, his mouth.
Lila was alone. And he’d let her go, he’d let her become a slave, a blood bag. He’d let her become the very thing she feared most of all, and the very thing Ambrose had detested about his society. And worst of all, he’d let her go as the taste of her blood still sang on his teeth, still coated his tongue. He’d chased her as a monster, and he felt the thrill of a predator hunting prey, a thrill he hadn’t felt since he earned the title of monster of Malvania.
By the time his long white strands stuck to his forehead in sweat, his knuckles had been oozing black blood, and he could see small specks of bone peeking through skin. At some point the afternoon had become the evening, and eventually the night.
Again, he cursed, and dropped the daggers on the floor. Ambrose shook out his hands, the wounds healing instantly, and ran them through his damp hair.
His exertion of energy did nothing to quiet his mind, his worry.
Ambrose spent all of two moments pacing the room, before he stared at the recessed fighting pit in the center. The same spot he spent countless nights with Lila, training her to be the best damned version of herself she could be.
He knew she could take care of herself.
He knew she could do whatever she set her mind to.
But this was more than that. This was about his sanity. This was about wanting to make sure she wasn’t being drained alive.
In truth, he just wanted to see her.
Or that’s what he told himself. He knew it to be true, but another draw had been guiding him.
He wanted to taste her again.
So, Ambrose Draven made a very bad decision.
He shifted into his monstrous form, stretching his muscles from being confined for so long, and with a burst of his wings, he flew through the halls, the stairways, and out of his manor into the night sky.
Lila, I’m coming.
And then he went in search of his sunlight.