Chapter 1 #2
For this test, I found two plants that didn’t particularly like growing together, and the experiment would try to force them to do so.
The rose and the morning glory fought over nutrients, and it was common for morning glories to overshadow roses, starving them of sunlight.
This experiment would bind them in this pot.
It would be a success if both plants flourished—but without magical intervention, the rose should be dead in a week.
This was a low-risk test with living things.
It wasn’t like I was experimenting on humans or fae.
Only a few drops of blood were necessary, rather than a full vial for something particularly complex.
The magic just wanted proof of the wielder’s investment.
The walls of my carrel shielded me from view as I pressed the knife against the tip of my finger and spoke.
“Bind. I want these flowers to grow together, to coexist in this habitat.”
The blade pierced my skin, and a small bead of blood welled to the surface. I turned my finger over, holding it near the dirt. Slowly, but surely, a single drop slipped from my finger.
“Evelyn—”
“Eeep.” I squeaked as I jumped at the interruption. My solitary study carrel wasn’t enough to keep him away.
“What are you doing?”
I scowled up at Ambrose, who stood beside my desk, and grabbed a cloth for my finger in the process. My face pinched further at my interrupted experiment. I wasn’t even sure how much of my blood had landed on the soil. Had my intent been clear?
“Announce yourself before you stalk over here,” I hissed.
Ambrose’s lip twitched, almost like he wanted to smirk. But that wasn’t us; we didn’t smirk at each other. We begrudgingly read each other’s papers and passively-aggressively commented on the method of experimentation and resulting conclusions.
“This is not me stalking,” he said.
Something inside me warmed, and I shifted in my seat. His words begged the question of what it was like to be stalked by him—to be his prey. Would he give immediate chase? Or would he prowl and take his time?
My cheeks heated. Where had that come from? I might have a guess, as the thing inside me—the second magic of the Vesten fae—fully woke from her slumber.
And now I was thinking about his shifter form.
In addition to wielding fire, most Vesten could change into animals, but you weren’t supposed to ask what kind.
My mom and I learned firsthand how rude the Vesten found the question.
With my father gone, my human mom attempted to find me a Vesten mentor.
She was turned away by everyone she approached.
Some slammed doors in her face. Only one had the decency to explain that asking about such things was taboo.
You learned from your family, that was how it went.
They did not offer suggestions for those with no Vesten family members in the picture.
I took a deep breath to collect myself and push the unwelcome thoughts away. “Do you need something?”
Landon and Tatyana made no effort to hide as they watched the encounter from across the room. I may know why Ambrose was here, but I certainly wouldn’t make this easy for him.
Ambrose glanced over my obvious experiment and frowned. “Have you had this test reviewed?”
His forearms were exposed as he leaned over the wooden wall surrounding the desk.
Whatever he had been researching before Landon and Tatyana’s interruption must have had him stumped.
Ambrose was always annoyingly put-together, except when his studies overtook him.
When that happened, he messily rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt.
I cataloged his frustrations as small wins for myself.
I pulled my gaze from the exposed pale skin and met bright hazel eyes and the slightest upward tilt of his lip. It was gone before I could name it.
“I’m not sure it’s any of your concern.”
He straightened, and his arms fell to his sides. “It’s everyone in the library’s concern if those plants grow so large they block the exits and trap us in here.”
Quickly, I checked the plants to see if something unexpected occurred. The two flowers looked unaffected. “I assure you, I followed procedures and took the utmost care in my experiment.”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously at the plants, and he mumbled. “Not sure it helps when living things are involved.”
My spine straightened, and the beast in my mind showed her teeth. I dug my nails into my palms beneath the desk to stop the change from happening.
Not here.
My nostrils flared through a deep breath. Calming. Centering. “I was hired to learn about blood magic. You are well aware of the information lacking in Vesten history. This is how I intend to do it.”
His ears pinkened. He was an expert on Vesten history, so distinguished that he’d taken on researching blood magic when no one else would. “Yes, well.” He glanced across my desk again. “I look forward to your paper detailing the experiment and the conclusions.”
Liar.
He hadn’t reviewed the paper I submitted yesterday yet.
I glanced back at the plants. Hopefully, we were done here and he would leave.
I’d calmed the animal in my mind only momentarily.
She would be a problem if this conversation continued.
I needed to leave anyway. I had started my experiment, but the results would take time.
“Could you read my work on anchors?” he asked, as he shuffled the papers in his hand.
I’d never tell him, but I was eager to read this paper.
He’d been researching anchors, or objects of significance to specific instances of blood magic.
They were physical representations of the magic, helping to focus the wielder’s intent.
Ambrose hypothesized that they did more than focus intent; they might house it.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to read the paper right now.
The clock on the wall announced I had to leave for my second job soon.
“Not tonight. Maybe if you had arrived earlier to ask, I could have fit you in.”
In hindsight, I could have done without tacking on the last part of my response.
My comment wasn’t really fair. Ambrose had been here for hours, but something about the way he’d casually strolled into the Great Room mid-morning raised my not-so-metaphorical hackles.
Those who didn’t claw for every scrap of respect they received were difficult to trust.
His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed. “We can’t all obsess over blood magic all the time.”
My hand balled into a fist. The animal I’d almost suppressed scratched again to break free. Not here. Not now. Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the nose.
Ambrose Yarrow had an inexplicable ability to get under my skin. I needed him gone.
“Fine. Give it to me. I’ll finish it before you arrive tomorrow.”
I’m sure this conversation was giving him whiplash, but he could join the club.
Ambrose stared at me. “You just said—”
“I know.” I took another deep breath to calm the raging animal inside me. “Please leave the papers on my desk. You can go now.”
My internal temperature was rising with my beast’s desire to break free. Sweat would drip from my brow momentarily if I continued to push her down.
It was unpredictable how fae magic would materialize in someone like me. Some half-fae had magic just like their fae parent. Others had none at all. Many had something in between.
As Ambrose considered my statement, but still didn’t leave, I began to count backward from one hundred.
It was these moments, which were unfortunately increasing in frequency, when I secretly wished my father hadn’t run out on us.
I wished someone could teach me how to handle the animal that fought so hard against me.
Everyone assumed that because I hadn’t had uncontrollable shifts as a child, I’d never have them. I had thought that the case, too, until a few months ago.
If only it were still true.
Ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven. It would be inconvenient for my shift to make itself known now.
The animal and I didn’t get along well. She was too separate, too unpredictable, and honestly, too unfathomable to comprehend. I didn’t know how to control her. Usually, I was at her mercy—when she wanted out, she freed herself. I couldn’t let it happen here, though.
“Evelyn?”
I’d missed whatever Ambrose had said. Why was he still here? Reason drove all aspects of my life, except for my shift and my interactions with Ambrose Yarrow. The two things shouldn’t mix.
Concern lingered with Ambrose’s furrowed brow. The knuckles of his fingers were white where they gripped the wooden carrel as if he clung to it for dear life. “Are you—”
“I’m fine,” I said quietly. Ninety-six, ninety-five, ninety-four. My heart rate steadied with another breath.
I dared a glance, but he hadn’t yet turned to leave. Our gazes locked, and I couldn’t quite fathom what I read there.
Some would say I’d made a hobby of studying Ambrose Yarrow.
I would say that I liked to know my competition, and he was the only one in this library who knew anything about blood magic.
But the near feral look on his usually stoic face didn’t sit well with me.
He must think I’d pushed blood magic too far and tested it on myself.
Maybe this was what would finally get me fired.
Ninety-three, ninety-two, ninety-one. The heat retreated as quickly as it had come. Thus was the animalistic response. My mouth opened. What did I tell him? That I was fine again?
Any explanation was interrupted as a high-pitched caw echoed through the Great Room. The rustle of flapping wings drew my focus to the large black raven entering. The bird had yet to reach us when it shifted into a male, landing on two feet without breaking forward momentum.
Clumsily, I stood, dipping my chin with such force that a strand of my dark brown hair fell from my braid into my face. “Lord Arctos.”
He was tall, like Ambrose, but wiry instead of broad.
His blond hair was shoulder length, and while he had the beauty of the fae, there was an undefined sharpness to him, probably due to him being one of the four gods who’d created the continent.
I hadn’t given much thought to my belief in the gods until Lord Arctos showed up at the library a few days ago.
Then he had surprised me further by staying at my friend Luna’s inn.
The Vesten God didn’t put on airs, but I still had no idea what to make of him.
He glanced between me and Ambrose. “Good, I’m glad you’re both here.”
When Lord Arctos had arrived in Sandrin, he asked me directly for research help with a project.
This had been yet another sore point between Ambrose and me.
Ambrose assumed I was already hard at work on whatever the Vesten God needed.
In reality, since he’d asked for my help, he’d told me nothing else about it.
Lord Arctos shook briefly, like he was adjusting to the feeling of the light brown tunic and dark trousers that had appeared with him. “Miss Knowles, I’ve already asked for your expertise on my project. Gabriel has pointed out that you work quite well with Mr. Yarrow.”
He glanced between us again as if looking for confirmation. Neither of us made a move of acknowledgement.
“Well, he asked that I include you both in the briefing, and he does run this library, so I will cede to his wishes.”
Lord Arctos didn’t sound like he was ceding to anything. His eyes sparkled as if he had decided this entire project would provide infinite amusement. Maybe it would. For him.
“What will we be working on?” Ambrose asked with a dismissive glance at me. I’m sure he assumed I already knew.
The god’s brow pinched as he focused on Ambrose. “You’ll find that out at the briefing.”
Ambrose dipped his head in acknowledgment, though I couldn’t be sure he was chastened.
“Should we meet in Gabriel’s office?” I asked and peered at the clock. Seraphina understood when things came up, but I hated to be late.
“Yes.” Lord Arctos gestured between us. He didn’t seem to miss anything. “Is five minutes enough time to wrap whatever this is up?”
The assessment was disconcerting, but I nodded, mumbling to myself. “The faster you leave, the faster we’ll finish.”
The Vesten God tilted his head slightly, like he might have heard. I gulped as I realized the words were not quiet enough. Today was really not my best.
Instead of responding, he smiled and clapped his hands together. “Wonderful. I can’t wait.”
Shifting again, he flew out an open window on the other side of the room.
Ambrose studied me in a way that I would never grow accustomed to. “Do you think he knows Gabriel’s office is the other way?”
“I’m not sure he cares.”
There was another almost twitch of his lip at that, then something changed, and the lines of his mouth flattened, his arms folding over his chest. “So we’ll be working together on his project. Did you know?”
“The Vesten God doesn’t share his plans with me.” I closed my notebook and slid it neatly into the corner of the table, then placed the pot for my flower experiment on the windowsill.
“Do you know what the project is?” he pressed.
Outwardly, I sighed in exasperation, but Ambrose’s tenacity was, begrudgingly, my favorite thing about him. Unfortunately, he was an excellent researcher. He wouldn’t let this go until he understood the problem and had a solution in mind.
His hazel eyes met mine at the sound. “What?”
I shook my head and echoed the Vesten God’s words. “We’ll have to attend the briefing to find out.”