35. Taking Hold
Chapter thirty-five
Taking Hold
Ione
He has to stop doing that spell shit. I didn't dream. Just blackness and then I woke up in bed, alone. The door is open, the smell of food wafts from downstairs and I remember that Ambrose said I could wander.
"There's no need to go back into the other room, all of your belongings are in this one." His voice bounces around the room though he's not in it.
"Whoa," I look around. "Can you see me?"
"You're cute," Ambrose chuckles without answering me. "Get cleaned up and dressed and come eat."
"Sure thing, boss." I roll my eyes, because I was going to do that anyway.
Making my way downstairs, I make sure to count exactly how many there are.
What turns take me to the kitchen, and which would take me back to the potion room.
How am I supposed to get in contact with Athanasius and the old woman again?
She said it might work, but she needed to see it.
In a pale yellow sundress, I walk into the kitchen and Ambrose is setting French toast on our plates wearing a shirt of the same color.
"Twins!" He claps his hands.
"There was a choice of two," I shake my head. "You had a 50% chance of getting it right."
"Doesn't matter," He sits down, smiling gleefully. "Still twins."
The food looks amazing, then something turns sour in my mouth as I remember the breakfast Athy made for me.
His runny eggs, lopsided pancakes. I don't mean to start crying.
I can't help it. I miss my sister, I haven't seen my niece in so long, I miss Athanasius.
His touch, his smell, the way he growled and called me rabbit.
The feeling of his arms comes rushing back to my mind, and I cover my face as tears begin to stream down.
"Ione." Ambrose clucks his tongue, and reaches across the table, patting my shoulder. "Don't cry, cutie, what's wrong?"
Sniffling, I look up at him. "What's wrong? You stabbed me—"
"Not this again," He sighs. "I apologized."
"You! Stabbed! Me!" Wiping my eyes, trying to stop the tears from coming doesn't help. "I miss my family. My life. Athanasius!"
Ambrose doesn't care. I know he doesn't, but he puts up a front and moves to sit next to me on the bench in his small kitchen, rubbing my shoulders. "Ione, adjustments will take time. I know it's hard right now, trust me."
"I have no reason to trust you." Snatching a napkin from the table, I wipe my face. "I'm your captive remember?"
"You are," He sighs. "There's no changing that, but that doesn't mean we can't be friendly with one another. Be nice to each other. Have some fun in the mean time." He completely ignores what I said about my lack of trust. He already knew that tidbit.
I can't believe he said that though. Just bypass everything.
Ambrose moves back to his side of the bench, he sighs heavily and begins talking about how to make the perfect French toast. This mother fucker ignores as I wipe my eyes and blow my nose.
He skips over the fact that I stab my food and I am barely listening to him.
I have to figure out how to get away from wherever 'here' is.
I need to know what I'm going to do when Athanasius comes to me again.
Maybe I should pretend to lean into what he's saying?
I'd have to take it slow, it'll alert him if I go along with everything he's saying without a fight.
Where to start though? What does he want?
"My sister always used to say, sift the flour twice, and always mash your herbs into a fine powder for flour."
He's still talking. Good. Last night he said he wanted to ascend, what the fuck does that mean? To the cosmos?
Face dry, mood elevated. I have something to look forward to. If I can convince him to let me out, or tell me one thing that can set me free that's all I need.
"So, how does it taste?" Ambrose smiles widely.
"Really good, actually." I sigh. It does, and my mood elevates as I'm eating. Each bites makes me feel better, maybe I was just hungry? What was I supposed to be doing again?
"See?" Ambrose chuckles. "Get a good meal in you and your outlook changes. You were hungry and upset, that's all, that's right cutie?"
"Maybe," Something tugs at my heart. Athanasius. I miss him. What else was there? "Are we swimming today?"
"No, well you can." Ambrose sighs. "I have work to do in my study. You have free rein, Ione, there's no where you can go anyway, but," He holds up a slender, pale finger. "Don't play with the potions. That's for your safety, do you understand me?"
I roll my eyes. "What do I look like? A child?"
"In the ways of magic? Yes." Ambrose stands and places his plate in the sink.
"They'll wash themselves, place yours in when you're finished, and I'll see you at lunch.
" He kisses me on my cheek. His lips are warm and soft, his hand covers mine.
"You'll smell me cooking, are you going to be a good girl? "
Each bite makes me feel a little better. Ambrose's fingers rub my knee over my dress, his eyes look different. Softer, gentler, he's being so nice.
"Depends on your definition of good."
He chuckles. "There's my girl."
I finish the last bite and set my plate in the sink. My head feels heavy, like my thoughts are underwater. Foggy. Maybe a walk will help.
I drift outside, past the castle’s gates, my feet finding the beach path without thought. The ocean stretches out in front of me, glittering like it always does, too perfect. I pause to watch the waves. What was I supposed to be doing?
Something. There was something.
The salt air fills my lungs. It’s beautiful here.
Ambrose… Ambrose is nice. A little annoying, sure, but he could’ve been so much worse.
He’s careful with me. Gentle. Considerate, even.
I think about his wide back, the curve of his lips, the way his purple hair falls into his eyes when he’s focused.
Those eyes—green and brown, shifting like moss under water.
He’s handsome. And he smells so good, like dark earth and something spiced.
Would it really be so bad to stay?
“Ione.”
I freeze.
What's that sound? My mind reverberates. How did I walk so far from the castle? It's so far away now. The sound, someone calling me, it’s faint—like pressure behind my eyes, pressing at the base of my skull.
“Ione! Rabbit, rabbit! Please!”
Athanasius.
Clarity slams into me like a wave. I can hear him. Really hear him.
"Athanasius? Where are you?" I call, turning around on the beach.
"Lay down," he says, urgently. "Close your eyes. Please, rabbit, quickly."
My feet move without thinking, taking me to the treeline. I sink into the soft grass, the shade cool over my face. I close my eyes. Darkness rushes in—but I’m not alone. Athanasius is holding me. Arms wrapped around me. Safe.
"Where are you?" he asks. "Open your eyes and show me."
I do—and there he is. Right next to me, and I latch onto him, tears welling in my eyes. He's holding my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "Please, Athy, please."
"I'm trying, woman," He grits his teeth, turning his body to hold me close. "I'm close, I promise you."
The old woman appears again, her face hazy. I know I won’t stay long—he’s pulling me back, doing something. “She won’t stay here,” she says, almost mournful.
Athanasius looks at me, intense. His lips meet mine. Gods, I love the way he kisses—but then, Ambrose’s lips flicker through my memory. Heat creeps up my neck.
“Rabbit, concentrate,” Athanasius says. “What is he giving you? Making you do?”
“He’s being nice. Feeding me. I can come and go now.”
The witch is behind me, stroking my back, her fingers sifting through my hair like she’s searching for something. “It could be these clothes,” she mutters.
Athanasius leans closer, his expression dark. He sniffs near my lips, then curses. “It’s in the food. He’s feeding you something.”
The old woman pushes him aside and grabs my shoulders. “Girl, can you hear me?”
As soon as Athanasius releases me my mind fogs again. “Ambrose,” I say, distracted. I hear him. He’s calling my name, from far away. “I have to go now.”
“No,” she hisses, and pinches my arm—hard. My eyes snap wide. “Eat as little as possible!” Her voice is muffled now, like I’m underwater again. “Do you hear me? He’s—”
Gone. Someone is stroking my face, lifting me from the ground, holding me close. I open my eyes and Ambrose is standing over me, light catching in his hair. “Hey, sleepyhead. Come eat lunch.”
He helps me to my feet, steadying me. What just happened? Someone else was here, talking to me. “You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say slowly. My head aches. “Guess I was tired.”
He’s still holding my hand. Warm. Strong. But… something’s off. Why do I remember something different? A different hand—pale, long fingers, inked with symbols…
“Let’s go, cutie,” he says with a grin. “I just wanted to make sure they were on the right track," What does that mean? Ambrose pulls me close to him. "I’ve got lunch made.”