Chapter 6
Evelyn
Ambrose had disappeared along with Lord Arctos, so I reread the journal.
The animal—the veil cat—inside me perked up each time I read about veil cat shifters.
I was still in shock over my conversation about them with Ambrose.
Lord Arctos’s casual mention of the Vesten Point’s form had been a bridge too far.
Until reading the journal, I had been among the group who believed the veil cats were little more than a children’s story. In my defense, animals that shepherd the spirits of the dead across realms seemed a little far-fetched, even if the animal in my head happened to be one of them.
The Vesten Point was a veil cat shifter, too.
How had I missed that piece of information?
Luna and Seraphina always teased me about not following popular culture. I guessed this was my lesson.
What did it mean? If the animals were hereditary, was I related to the Vesten Point?
Luna’s comment that I should talk to Gabriel was looking less and less foolish with this new information.
I dismissed the idea again. If I told Gabriel, he would tell Carter, and I could not risk looking like an idiot in front of the male who would decide my fate with the Vesten historian position.
I didn’t even know how to control my shift, for gods’ sakes.
As an adult Vesten, it was embarrassing.
I flipped the page in the journal more aggressively than intended.
What was I looking for? Lord Arctos treating this whole thing like a game wasn’t helping.
There was so much to learn from these pages detailing the sisters’ blood magic experiments.
Still, other than the revelation we’d made with Lord Arctos, I wasn’t sure this text would help hypothesize how to break the connection between a Compass Point and a god.
It talked only of how connections were formed without explicitly spoken intent, not how to unform them.
The paper Ambrose had asked me to read yesterday was still on my desk.
I had read it once last night. Unfortunately, it was worth another read.
If Ambrose’s hypothesis was correct, if an anchor held part of the magic, destroying the anchor could destroy the magic.
Lord Arctos had referenced an “object of importance” in the test he’d done with Carter, but was that object also part of the original connection being forged?
I pulled Ambrose’s paper toward me to read it once more. It was something to go on, at least.
Hours later, I startled as a wrapped sandwich fell onto the corner of my desk. Blinking, I glanced up at Ambrose, his sleeves rolled back and forearms on display as he leaned over my carrel. “That bell, we discussed?”
The way his lip twitched felt … playful. A shiver ran down my spine.
I wasn’t sure what to make of that, so I picked up the rolled sandwich and sniffed. “What’s this?”
“A veggie sandwich. It’s past time for an evening meal. I figured you were hungry.” He held a second one in his hand.
Too many thoughts crossed my mind at once. How did he know what I liked on my sandwich? Did he want to … eat together?
His words were factual, like so much of what Ambrose said to me, but I could sense something beneath them. I tilted my head, unsure if I was evaluating him or the food.
Mom had been correct. Ambrose was handsome, in a completely unexpected way.
While he had all the usual traits of a researcher, never without his vest or a notepad, the rest of him didn’t fit the stereotype.
He followed rules—he didn’t like risk—but there was some small sliver of him that was wild.
It was increasingly visible in the gold of his irises.
I guessed that wasn’t so odd for a Vesten.
It was likely the animal beneath the surface.
He was my competition, though, no matter how intriguing I found him. Sharing a meal would be a mistake. He’d dismissed my stupid slip about wanting the position yesterday. Hadn’t he? His friends had all but shouted that a half-fae would never be the Vesten historian.
Luna and Seraphina’s words crossed my mind. Maybe let Ambrose speak for himself. All he had said in response to my slip was, “I see.” His friends had said stupid things, but that wasn’t new. It was almost common. At the very least, if I asked him to sit, I could confirm my understanding of anchors.
Perhaps a meal together wouldn’t be so bad.
He couldn’t very well stand there, leaning over the carrel while I ate. Though I was convinced I would regret this at some point, I stood and walked around the corner to the closet.
“Evelyn … did I—”
I pulled out the hidden chair and brought it to Ambrose.
“What is this?”
It occurred to me then that I hadn’t confirmed his amiability to my idea before making this gesture. “Would you like to sit?” I pointed to the sandwiches. “And eat?”
My voice sounded less certain than usual, and my second skin was twitching to be free. Discomfort coated my every move, but I was far too committed to back out.
Maybe he would say no.
He arched a brow, then took a seat quickly, like maybe he feared I’d snatch it away. Instead of sliding it into place in the carrel across from mine, he pulled it right up to the corner of my desk. “I’ve been looking for this chair.”
I cleared my throat. “You can never tell where the maid is going to stash it.”
He glanced up, studying me. “Indeed.”
His lip twitched, and I knew he didn’t believe me, but there was nothing I could do about that now.
I needed to know how we were both meant to use my desk as a table.
Ambrose regarded me and my empty chair, and I knew I must look ridiculous.
But he was so tall, so broad, I wasn’t sure there was space for us both crowded around my favorite study carrel.
My attention drifted to the flowers in the pot as I took a seat.
I wasn’t sure their bind had worked yet, but they looked good together.
While there was still a chance for the morning glory to dominate the pot, I thought this was promising—an unlikely pair, growing together, sharing too small a space.
The metaphor felt too apt, but I decided Ambrose and I could do the same—at least for the duration of this meal.
“Thank you,” I said as I picked up the sandwich again.
He only grunted as he unwrapped his own and took a large bite.
“What do you think of the information Lord Arctos shared?”
He chewed, but his brow furrowed. I guessed I already knew his answer. He thought the test was reckless. When he swallowed and opened his mouth to respond, I asked a different question.
“What about the object of significance he mentioned? Do you think it’s an anchor?”
“It’s possible, but we’d need more information about the object. We know nothing about the genesis of the connection—that’s when anchors are formed.” He paused, as if realizing what my question meant. “You read my paper?”
I cleared my throat. “You asked me to.”
He smiled briefly, then pressed his lips into a thin line. His thoughts must have grown more serious. Maybe he didn’t want to share information that he thought gave him an advantage. “Have you considered the origin of the magic?”
Fae history might not have been my expertise, but there was only one occasion that had brought together all four gods and all four Compass Points. “It had to be the creation of the fae, right?”
“I think so, too. I wish Lord Arctos would tell us. Clearly, he knows more than he’s sharing.” He looked toward the window, like he was thinking about something else. “I just can’t believe anyone would so recklessly apply blood magic to … fae and gods. That’s beyond even plants.”
The words landed like a backhanded compliment. “All blood magic is dangerous.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, as if he wished to do anything but continue this conversation. He still had half a sandwich left. This whole meal had been his idea. Now it just felt awkward and uncomfortable.
Unsure how to proceed, I unwrapped my sandwich. As I peeled back the paper, I caught my finger, slicing it. “Ouch.”
Ambrose set down his partial sandwich and reached for me. “Let me help with—”
Blood was already welling in the small slice across my pointer finger. His large hand engulfed mine as the first drop fell. He quickly wrapped a napkin around the cut.
Every instinct told me to yank my hand back. I could take care of myself. Why was Ambrose doing this? But something about the way his hand fully surrounded mine was … nice.
I liked it. It almost silenced the near-constant press of my veil cat against my skin.
It had been a long time since someone held my hand like this.
Since my shift started, I’d been too scared to let anyone in.
The last man who’d tried to touch me, even with my consent, set my veil cat off in a way that had me fleeing the restaurant and never looking back. I hadn’t tried to date again.
This was different. A warmth spread through me as Ambrose pressed the napkin to the cut.
Not that this was a date.
I sucked in a breath. “Thank you.”
Our gazes locked. My heart was galloping like a herd of horses breaking loose their ties. This was worse than the cut itself. I might not have known what kind of shifter he was, but I knew he had an animal form. His elevated senses would ensure he could hear my body’s overreaction to him.
Could he hear my rapid heartbeat? My pulse pounding? Should I pull my hand back?
“If only all our interactions were this easy,” he said, interrupting my spiral of panic.
Easy? This interaction had me on the brink of hyperventilating and he still hadn’t let go of my hand. Did I want him to?
As he held the napkin to the cut, a purr in the back of my mind said no.
I grasped for reason. “What do you mean?” My brain spun. I wanted to talk about magic, not the complexities of every conversation the two of us had. His warmth was distracting. How could one produce so much heat in this drafty library?