Chapter 9
Evelyn
Something was wrong, and I was sure it was Ambrose’s fault. The crowd thinned as I escaped the busy docks and walked toward my and Mom’s apartment. The city was quiet; most still hadn’t started their day. Unfortunately, that left only my thoughts for company.
I had tried to keep it together when he approached me on the ferry, arm outstretched with an offering he knew I could use.
My entire body had shivered at the scent of the sweater.
I might have asked what he was doing there, but the rapid beat of my heart suggested I already knew the answer before he shared it.
He was the wolf.
He hadn’t seen me shift, had he? Judging from that slightly furrowed brow and the too-relaxed pose he held the rest of the cruise across the bay, he wasn’t buying my morning walk excuse. He might not have seen my shift, but he suspected that I had.
Maybe it would be alright. Maybe the Vesten Library’s golden boy, who wanted me and my method of blood magic gone, would let this go.
I shook my head at the thought, even though he hadn’t pressed for information when he clearly knew I was lying.
Even more confusingly, he’d slipped me information about Vesten.
He had been more than kind to not only share his sweater, but to teach me how to warm myself in the future.
Surprisingly, he’d managed it without condescension.
His apparent kindness didn’t make sense.
Although if he hadn’t seen my shift, he had nothing to hold over me.
It wasn’t my fault everyone assumed I didn’t have one.
I’d be in real trouble if he knew what I was.
No matter how things had seemed between us last night, no matter the crush I couldn’t seem to tamp down, if Ambrose Yarrow knew I was a veil cat and that I was unable to control my shift, he would use the information against me.
I focused on this because I didn’t want to acknowledge that the twisting in my chest was back.
It had returned the moment I left Ambrose’s side.
The wolf, my secret, Vesten magic—all these issues paled in comparison to the fact that my body was physically reacting to something, and I was afraid that something was Ambrose’s presence.
For now, the sensation was uncomfortable but not unbearable, so I decided to ignore it as I arrived at our apartment and let myself in. Everything was as I had left it. Mom was still sleeping in her bedroom. I was glad, since I hadn’t had a way to leave her a note before the change happened.
Our home was simple, two bedrooms and a shared living space with the kitchen. We overlapped less than we’d like with our busy work schedules, but it also gave us both our privacy. I went into my room to change before leaving for the library.
More reluctantly than I’d ever admit, I removed the warm sweater. I stared at the candy he’d given me. Ambrose’s instructions on self-warming were simple. I was sure there had to be more to it.
I tried not to think too hard about how long I’d wanted one of these candies as I popped the red ball of sugar into my mouth.
The snap of cinnamon on my tongue was a sweet zing, followed by an intense flare of heat.
It built quickly, like the candy itself was a ball of flame instead of sugar.
With Ambrose’s instruction in my head, I distributed the core of heat to my limbs. They warmed almost immediately.
Is this why no one else in the library was bothered by the chill?
Cheeks warm in embarrassment, I changed, wrote Mom a quick note, and left for the library.
It was such a simple thing—likely something that every Vesten parent taught their child.
I’d still been learning to call the magic on command when my father left.
We hadn’t gotten to any of these more practical tricks.
Embarrassment turned to a churning anger.
This was yet another sin to lay at his feet.
I pushed down the part of me that wanted so badly to have had someone to teach me these things.
How did I end up at the mercy of Ambrose Yarrow for tips about Vesten magic?
He was still on my mind when I arrived at the library. The twinge was still there in my chest as I got to work. Today, I would learn all I could about the creation of the fae. I’d read a few texts on the matter, but I was sure the historian extraordinaire Ambrose Yarrow knew more.
If I were to impress Lord Arctos with the right questions about his project, I needed to know what to ask.
I pulled a few history texts from the shelves to start with, but the restricted section of the library drew my attention.
The best resources about the creation of the fae were there, but you needed special permission to access them.
I clenched my jaw as I carried a stack of texts to my desk, sure Ambrose already knew the secrets that room held.
The library was still empty as I started reading. No matter how I tried to focus on the text, I couldn’t help but contemplate the sweater folded neatly and placed in the corner of my carrel.
It was as if that twisting spring inside me was momentarily released when I thought—or looked at—something that reminded me of Ambrose.
The longer we remained separated, the worse it got.
Tension stretched across every part of me.
I tried to make myself small to ward off the discomfort.
Then the creak of the Great Room’s massive door signaled what my body seemed to already know.
My breath released, dropping my shoulders from where they had crept up by my ears.
I didn’t have to look up to know it was him. Ambrose had arrived.
This was a problem.
Ignoring it was my only plan. What was I supposed to do? Walk up to Ambrose and tell him I was obsessed with him? No. All other options felt unacceptable, so I ducked back into my carrel and kept reading.
“Eep!” I squeaked as something pressed down on my shoulder.
“Any updates?” That same unknowable voice spoke directly into my mind. The large black bird accompanied it: Lord Arctos.
“I’m reading about the creation of the fae.” I snuck a glance at him to see if he indicated this was a good idea or not. He didn’t. “Ambrose and I also discussed anchors last night. Are you familiar with the concept? What was the object you and the Vesten Point used when you tested the magic?”
“You and Ambrose, huh?” Lord Arctos’s wings flapped against the side of my face as his beak turned toward where Ambrose sat across the Great Room.
“It would help if you would tell us everything you know.”
“Now it’s us?”
I sighed. “This isn’t the part where we differentiate ourselves. This is still information you should have given us in the briefing.” I turned my head to glare at him.
He looked resolutely in the opposite direction.
Was I really challenging a god here?
His feathers flicked against my face again as he fidgeted in what I could only imagine was agitation. “You’re probably right.”
“Excuse me?”
My response was louder than the rest of the conversation.
Ambrose’s head lifted, and our gazes locked across the room.
The slight arch of his brow was his only response to the black bird perched on my shoulder.
Then, before I could decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing, he pushed back his chair and strode toward us.
“Everything alright, Evelyn?” he asked, glancing briefly at the bird.
I nodded, uncomfortable with how my breath seemed to come easier with each step of his approach. That unfortunate piece of information would be relegated to the back of my mind for later. “Lord Arctos was about to explain himself.”
“You’re sure you want to share what I was about to tell you? He is the competition, after all.” His tone was pure mischief with a hint of mirth. It reminded me of a child who had put a thumb tack on an empty chair and was now waiting for me to sit on it.
Ambrose’s eyes widened, which I took to mean that the Vesten God was now speaking into both of our minds.
I shrugged. “You owe us what you know.”
“Fine. I’ll tell you how to learn more about the connection we’re asking you to break. You’re on the right track, Evelyn, reading about the creation of the fae, but you won’t find the information you need in that text.”
Still seated on my shoulder, his wings poked at me as they ruffled. Why couldn’t he have picked Ambrose’s shoulder for his little tantrums?
“The best information I can give you is in the restricted section of the library. You should read the journals of the first Vesten Point, Kenna. She was there at the creation of the fae, and the language she recorded is what Carter believes indicates blood magic was used to create the fae.”
Vindication rushed through me. I was on my feet immediately, and Lord Arctos’s wing was flapping against my face again as I jostled him. “Excellent.”
“But only the Vesten historian is allowed in the restricted section,” Ambrose replied. It seemed almost automatic. He looked wistfully over his shoulder at the closed door that led to that particular section.
Had he really never been in there? Another crack formed in the image I had of Ambrose.
It was comforting that his rules applied to himself, too.
Maybe even more comforting that he gave Lord Arctos as hard a time about the rules as he usually gave me, but still.
“I think we’ll be alright if the literal god of our court is telling us to go in there. ”
Ambrose’s hand balled into a fist, and his brow pinched. “It really wouldn’t take that long to request permission from Gabriel.”
I smirked, and it felt dangerously close to toying with him.
The awareness of him flared to life in my chest, a sensation of heat tingling down my spine.
It caught me off guard. This wasn’t what Ambrose and I did.
Still, the words slipped out, as if they, too, didn’t require permission. “Where is the fun in that?”
My chair scraped against the wood floor as I pushed it in beneath my desk. I knew it would make Ambrose’s hair stand on end.
“Evelyn,” he said, his hands moving to his hips. “It will take ten minutes at most to get Gabriel’s approval.”
“Which seems like a waste of ten minutes.”
Lord Arctos’s head swiveled back and forth between us as we needlessly debated this next step.
“If anything happens to us, he’ll have the record of what text we thought relevant.”
“What’s going to happen to us, Ambrose?” I tilted my head in consideration, feeling like I had untangled an entire ball of yarn but was unsure what to do with the accomplishment.
“Never mind,” he said before doubling down on his original point. “Let’s just get permission.”
“He told us time was of the essence. We’re doing as he requested.
” Heat flared inside me as Ambrose’s ears reddened in frustration.
I decided then and there that I liked pushing him in this way.
What did he have to worry about? He was a full Vesten fae, his father retired from a position of honor in the court.
Ambrose was renowned for his knowledge of the court’s history.
He could do whatever he wanted without consequence.
That’s not what I saw on his face.
For the first time, it occurred to me that maybe he didn’t see himself the way I saw him. Maybe he didn’t think everything was within his grasp. The next question bubbled up the same way the awareness of him had—why didn’t he believe that?
I didn’t have time to consider it before he turned and walked away. “I’ll be a moment. Just wait here.”
The Great Room door hadn’t fully closed behind him when the Vesten God swept into my mind. He was all condescending authority, speaking the information I’d been intent to ignore. “When are you going to tell him that the two of you are magically bound?”