Chapter 17
Evelyn
The rose and the morning glory twisted together in the pot on the windowsill. These two plants that usually strangled each other’s growth couldn’t get enough of each other. Obviously, they were mocking me.
Grow together—was that what Ambrose and I were doing?
As if thinking of him reminded me of the tension building in my chest from our separation, I pressed down on my sternum.
Everything I say to you comes out wrong. It might help if we could understand each other better.
Ambrose’s confession cycled through my thoughts. He really thought that? At the same time that we both spilled blood?
Growing together wasn’t so different from understanding each other. If I were feeling more contemplative, I’d consider why our desires seemed so aligned in that. I tapped my finger against the desk in a steady rhythm. Ambrose still wasn’t here.
It had been over an hour since I’d left his apartment. Where was he?
Then again, I didn’t strictly need him to continue with either project. Why was I so fixated on him?
Magic, Evelyn. The answer is magic.
Honestly, I hoped that was the case. The soft morning light in his apartment had done mesmerizing things with the gold in his hazel eyes.
It hadn’t helped that he’d run his fingers through his hair every few minutes.
He must have been nervous with all he shared, but toying with his hair also highlighted the blond strands hidden within the auburn, and I couldn’t help that my stare lingered.
I wasn’t sure if he’d realized it in the moment, but by the end of our conversation, it was clear that he was putting effort into us growing together.
He had shared so much about his family and even a little of himself.
Part of me wondered if he wanted to share everything that he had, or if it was another facet of the magic urging him to do so.
Was it like the tightness in my chest that encouraged our proximity to each other?
My stomach churned as I considered the magic forcing him to speak.
I hoped that wasn’t it. He hadn’t looked to be in pain.
Either way, if he kept sharing like he had this morning, maybe we’d find our way through the blood magic connection.
The magic wanted us to know each other better—it was making us uncomfortable to be apart.
Ambrose had made a good suggestion: if we fulfilled the magic’s desire—if we spent time together and got to know each other—it should break the connection.
The veil cat in my head purred at the thought.
We do not want to spend more time with Ambrose Yarrow.
Her tail swished in my mind as if to wipe away my thoughts, which she considered irrelevant.
I hmphed to myself. Ambrose and I were colleagues.
We knew each other professionally. The cat’s tail flicked back and forth again as if waiting for me to continue.
Now I guess I also know about his father’s experience with blood magic, his mother’s search for an answer, and the way his younger siblings stare at him like he hung the moon.
I sighed. Loudly.
“I see you’re making great progress.” The familiar black bird landed on my shoulder.
I wanted to sigh again. I was not in the mood to deal with the Vesten God.
“They say it helps with research when you … have a book open.”
“You know I have multiple problems to worry about at the moment.” Even as I said so, I grabbed the book from the corner of my desk and flipped it open. It was the one I’d pulled from the restricted section. We had yet to dive into it, even after the hassle of collecting it.
“Sometimes the best way out is through.” The bird’s wings flapped against my face.
I scrunched my nose. “You can’t hear my thoughts, right?”
“No, thank … me. Who wants to hear you pine over Mr. Yarrow’s forearms flexing? Not even I am that bored.”
“I—” I was about to tell Lord Arctos off when I flushed, remembering exactly what I’d been thinking about before I passed out last night.
I’d cataloged every inch of Ambrose as a veil cat.
Or when I’d been fighting between it and my half-fae form.
I bit my lip, knowing that I was past pretending I didn’t find him attractive—particularly his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves.
“Not even going to deny it? That’s a plot twist.”
“You are very sassy today. Can I help you with something?”
“I thought I made that clear. You can help me by finding a way to break the blood magic connecting the gods and the Compass Points. Were you not listening in the briefing?”
I sighed. “Are you always so … exhausting?” I asked.
“Rose says so.” The bird tilted his head. “Sometimes Aurora agrees with her.”
A snort escaped. I was pretty sure he referred to the Norden Point and the Norden Goddess. “Maybe you should consider that feedback.”
“Maybe you should consider the book in front of you,” he mocked.
My fingers slid over the pages as I flipped them.
Kenna’s journal was a mess of hurried scrawlings.
Some were her thoughts, others were conversations as she remembered them.
I wasn’t sure exactly what I was looking for, but Lord Arctos sat on my shoulder and read with me, flitting his wing at the side of my face when he decided that I missed something.
He had me pause at the description of the Lake Refilling Ceremony. It happened once a year at Compass Lake. It was meant to commemorate the creation of the fae.
“The powers we bestow you with must intertwine—a bond that strengthens and does not break. They must be as united as the water in the lake, unable to tell which drop has touched which shoreline.” Zrak looked at each fae leader.
“Lest you think you can ignore us, we will never be far from you. Your power is connected to the lake. The land here will be your seat of power—this is where you will be strongest.” He paused. “And we’ll know if you weaken.”
I snorted. “So, this is how you knew the Lost God did something … shady?”
“How do you know that?” Lord Arctos asked.
“‘We’ll know if you weaken,’ is a pretty good indicator. I know you’re gods, but stating as much so boldly, it seems the understanding of another’s power was something of which he had alternate assurances.”
Lord Arctos huffed. “We created the fae, we could be connected that way.”
“Another fae created me,” I said, “but he doesn’t know what I’m capable of.”
The black bird’s head swiveled toward me. “Is that so?”
Well, I hadn’t quite meant to get into family story time with the Vesten God, but I didn’t see a way out of it now, since I’d been the one to bring it up. “My fae parent, my father, isn’t in my life.”
Lord Arctos made another huffing sound. “And you’re so sure he doesn’t know anything about your magic?”
The question gave me pause. Was I sure? I guessed not. My father had known I had fire magic before he left. I didn’t think that whether I had magic or the amount had mattered to him. It was more likely the human stain in my blood that he’d run from.
“I can confirm, even if Evelyn can’t, that my parents have no connection to my magic. I had to tell them the first time I shifted,” Ambrose said in that calm and confident tone he used when speaking about a historical fact.
I jumped, squeaking as I glanced up to where Ambrose now stood, his arms draped over my study carrel as he leaned against it again.
The sleeves of his white shirt were already rolled back, and there were …
forearms … everywhere. I blamed Lord Arctos for my attention on the way his muscles flexed when he laced his fingers together so casually.
“Ambrose,” I said through gritted teeth, about to tell him off again about sneaking up on me.
His smile was wolfish.
My heart flip-flopped in my chest, a feeling wholly separate from the tightness when he wasn’t near.
This might have been the first time he’d so obviously shown me his animal.
Seated in my chair, with the Vesten God perched on my shoulder, I wasn’t sure what to do with the intimacy.
Then I realized Lord Arctos had been speaking into my mind, but Ambrose had answered the question.
“You were speaking to him, too?”
The black bird shrugged, which just meant more feathers flapped against my face. “He was walking toward us anyway. I figured I’d give him the option to be useful.”
Ambrose’s hazel eyes narrowed at that comment, leading me to believe Lord Arctos’s words continued to be for everyone. I tried to hide the blush overtaking my cheeks as I realized Ambrose must have heard what I said about my fae father.
I decided to ignore that fact and return us to the matter at hand. “So, if this is where the gods announce that they have done something to connect themselves to the fae, do we have any text about what they actually did?”
Lord Arctos sighed as if we were the most exhausting beings on the continent. “I have a note from Zrak. He said only to give it to you if you got this far.”
“This whole thing has been another test?!” My voice was higher pitched than I would have liked, but I couldn’t help it.
I was sick of how the Vesten God dropped pieces of information like pathway markers; you were never sure the next one was there until you were already upon it.
We stood little chance of success this way.
“The Osten God wanted to make sure you had some skill before you were to be trusted with the next piece.”
Ambrose folded his arms over his chest. I hated how I noticed the flex of his biceps under his shirt. This was getting ridiculous, but I went ahead and mentally blamed it on the magic.
We needed to return to work on our own problem. I was no longer sure how Lord Arctos had tricked me into working on his thing when I’d been intent on separating Ambrose and me before proceeding.
“When will you bestow this new piece of information on us?” I asked.
“I’d like you both to have a meal with me tonight.”
“Where?” Ambrose asked before I could complain.
“Let’s meet at the tavern Evelyn is so fond of. Parkview, is it?”
“We’ll meet you there.” Ambrose inexplicably took charge of the rest of the conversation. “Now, Evelyn and I need the time before the evening meal to do a bit more work.”
Lord Arctos snorted. “You mean work on trying to break your connection before you break mine? I’d prefer you test your theories amongst yourselves anyway.” He flapped his wings with newfound energy. “Carry on. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
The way Ambrose studied me as Lord Arctos flew away made my heart race. I hadn’t realized how much Lord Arctos’s presence was calming me until he was gone.
As usual, Ambrose didn’t seem to have the slightest understanding of how he affected me. He leaned a little farther across the carrel to touch the plants in the window.
“Sorry I took longer than anticipated,” he said. “My mother returned from her most recent trip and… Well, I’m sorry for the delay.” His lips flattened into a thin line as he spoke. What new books or intel had she brought home? Had it been well received?
I wondered what Ambrose’s relationship with his parents was like.
They were both in the picture, but he spoke about them as if they had their own expectations for his life.
Did they ever ask him what he wanted? His eyes had widened drastically this morning when I’d posed the question.
He also hadn’t seemed sure in his response—like he was testing the words. I wasn’t sure what to make of that.
“I didn’t get much done before Lord Arctos showed up,” I said. “I was considering the path through our connection.”
Ambrose glanced around as if searching for …
a chair. I hadn’t taken the time to hide the one across from me when I’d arrived today.
It just wasn’t worth my time. It certainly wasn’t so that I could experience the corner of Ambrose’s lip twitching when he noticed it.
I’m also sure it wasn’t so that his large form would crowd into my space as he pulled the chair over, the same way he had the night we unintentionally bound ourselves.
My veil cat purred at his proximity. I reminded myself that this was just an effect of the magic. But gods, I hoped he couldn’t hear her.
Old books and pencil shavings filled my nose. He was so close. Then he pulled out that stupid notebook and pencil. That could not be a turn on. I refused to believe that. Still, I grasped for words. Magic. We were discussing blood magic and an approach to solving our predicament.
“So, through the magic,” I said. “Yes? We should try to do what it wants? You appeared amenable to that approach this morning.”
He scratched the back of his neck absent-mindedly as I spoke. “I am … amenable,” he said. “Are you?”
His question was hesitant. One, I wasn’t sure how much had to do with the magic between us versus our history of …
how had he phrased it? Consistently misunderstanding each other.
I didn’t plan to share more than was necessary.
I could tell him about my time at the Sandrin Records Office and some of the work I’d done there.
Hopefully, that would soothe the magic between us.
It would be fine. I wasn’t sure if I nodded to him or myself, but with it, we sealed our new approach.