Chapter 29
Evelyn
After the meal, Ambrose and I trudged up the stairs to our rooms. I clenched my teeth the entire walk.
“I can hear you fuming,” he said behind me.
We were almost to the door of my room. I could wait a few more steps.
“They needed to know you were working on another option.”
I opened the door, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into my room. “And what gave you the right to mention it?” I hissed as I pushed the door closed behind his broad frame.
Ambrose’s brow lifted. “We’re … colleagues. I couldn’t let you sell your own work short.”
Something twisted in my chest at the word colleagues, and it had nothing to do with the magic that connected us. Or maybe it had everything to do with it. It had everything to do with the fact that he still thought the magic made us feel things we hadn’t previously.
“I don’t know if I can test it appropriately.” I didn’t look at him. He was sharp; he knew what I meant. That was part of why I couldn’t believe he’d said something. Testing it would mean testing on him.
“You can test it on us.”
I froze. He didn’t know what he was saying. “This wouldn’t be the same as trying to work through the magic. Testing this would require applying more magic to our connection. It would be akin to Lord Arctos and Carter’s test, which you called reckless. It’s something I would never ask you to do.”
He took a step forward, crowding my space so that I couldn’t see anything but him. “You’re not asking. I’m offering.”
I sucked in a breath. “We don’t know what it will do.”
“I’m aware.”
I licked my lips and tried to think of a way to explain it to him. To make him understand the risks he seemed determined to avoid. But the way he tracked my tongue sent a different heat flooding me.
This was out of control. I had to make him see. “Last time we didn’t know the risks, we ended up magically bound.”
“Not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me by far,” he mumbled.
His entire life was structured around avoiding risk. I couldn’t let him do this. We would find another way. “You only think that because of the magic.”
He laughed. Actually laughed, but it wasn’t carefree and full of mirth. “Evelyn”—he shook his head—“let’s stop pretending the blood magic can alter our emotions.”
I wasn’t breathing. Had he said what I thought he said?
His fingers were in the auburn strands of his hair as he continued.
“You know it as well as I do. The magic may be inconvenient. It may be uncomfortable when we separate. It may force us to spend time together, but neither of our intentions involved manipulating emotions. I don’t even think blood magic could do such a thing. ”
Ambrose must have mistaken my incredulity for fear. He stepped forward again and reached for me. Then he must have realized that wasn’t something we usually did, and let his hand drop to his side.
“I didn’t think you knew,” I breathed.
“Knew what? Knew that this magic has been awkward, distracting, and a million other things, but that I’m thankful for every moment we’ve had together?
Or that I’ve been studying you for weeks, but I loved every new fact and facet of you I’ve learned from this connection?
” His last words came out in almost a whisper.
“I’m not sure I would have discovered them otherwise. ”
A smile tipped his lip, and he continued. “Like knowing that you prefer vegetables to meat, and I am sure that it comes from your belief that blood-magic-grown plants can sustain the continent?”
Something wet hit my cheek, breaking me from my stupor.
“Or that when your hair is braided, that means you’re in battle armor, and you’re expecting a fight.”
I laughed, but it was watery. “I wear my hair in a braid to the library every day.”
“Exactly,” he said.
Was I crying? How could he have cataloged such things? Then his face got more pensive.
“Or the lengths you’ll go to not to burden others, not to make your problems their problems, even though I know for a fact your friends are trying to rid you of that habit.
” He’d stepped even closer. His long fingers wrapped around my shoulders slowly—so slowly—like he was giving me every moment to get away.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked, unsure why I was hot and cold at the same time.
He tilted his head in a way that had once made him look condescending but was now a teasing question all its own. A silent you know why.
“If you knew that the magic wasn’t affecting our emotions, then why did you stop us last night?” I asked. He’d known, and he’d still said no. It was his right, of course. I just couldn’t reconcile it with what I thought he was saying now.
“I didn’t think you knew,” he said on a sigh. “But of course you did. I’m sure you figured it out before I did. You didn’t want to burden me with the knowledge.”
The hint of what I’d previously thought was exasperation was now drenched in fondness—something I never would have learned about him without our magical connection. If I hadn’t seen the way he spoke to his siblings. If I hadn’t understood the way he teased them.
“I’d very much like to kiss you again, if we have all of that cleared up,” I said.
His smile was broad, lighting up the room even though it was pitch black outside. “If I’m going to touch you, which I also would very much like to do, I think you should explore our connection again first.”
I let my head hang in mock exasperation. “It’s always work first with you.”
His smirk was sinful, a look I’d never expected to see on the serious researcher’s face. “I believe strongly in a work-and-reward system. Let’s do at least one test, see if you can get comfortable enough to tell Lord Arctos and … the Vesten Point something more concrete tomorrow.”
He stumbled over the title Vesten Point, like he wasn’t sure he liked it. I knew him to be one of Carter’s biggest fans, and I was sure he’d be even more so when we discussed what Carter had shared about the tree—about how the position was chosen.
I was about to tell him, had opened my mouth to do so, when his hand slid from my shoulder to my sternum.
My skin heated with every inch he crossed.
I could tell him later. Now, I needed to focus on this.
The heat from his palm felt like we’d arrived at the reward without having done any of the work.
But that was the beauty of doing what I loved for work. It never felt like a chore.
“This isn’t very calming,” I noted.
He twitched, and I knew he wanted to reach for the notebook and pencil tucked away somewhere on his person.
“I never said it would be. The first time you felt the connection, when I was trying to explain shifting, your heartbeat was erratic, your pupils were dilated, and I was sure you were going to flee at any moment.”
Well, he’d perfectly described my general mental state around him—a wild animal prepared to bolt. This wasn’t humiliating at all.
I reached to pull his hand away, to stop this before I embarrassed myself further.
His fingers only intertwined with mine, and he pressed them both to the skin beneath my collarbone.
His hazel eyes danced when I glanced up at him.
“If you weren’t so busy panicking, you would have observed that I was right there with you.
My heart felt like it would break free from my chest—simply from the act of standing near you. ”
A sigh slipped from my lips at his confession. He knew what I needed to hear. Ambrose was with me. We would figure this out because whatever existed between us was more than an accidental bond. He knew the blood magic hadn’t manipulated his emotions, and he wanted to explore whatever this was.
After research, of course.
“You’re sure?” My eyes were closed as I searched for the rope of fire, but I didn’t need to see him to feel his response.
“I’m sure, Evelyn.” He squeezed my fingers where our hands were still locked together. “Tell me what you’re feeling, and I will write it down when you’re done.”
I snorted. Of course he would.
It was still new, this feeling that I could push my fire magic without the candies he’d supplied.
I didn’t know what the limits were, but since my shift in the woods here, my magic and I seemed to have better alignment.
My veil cat hadn’t let me down. And I didn’t think she would—she was me, after all.
The fire ignited within me, and I searched for the connection to Ambrose. It was simple with his hand pressed against me. “It’s here.”
I wasn’t sure what he’d want to know about my exploration.
Then I considered the notes I usually took of my experiments and decided to start there.
I stoked my fire magic further. It wouldn’t burn me, and inherently, I knew it wouldn’t hurt him.
“My fire magic is spreading to my every extremity, searching for the connection point. It’s burning through me. ”
His proximity meant I could sense the way his muscles tightened at my words. What I had once considered mistrust, or a belief I was incapable, I now knew to be worry. He was worried about me.
“But in a good way,” I reassured. “It’s to my fingers, toes, head … I haven’t found the place where you intersect yet, but I can feel that it is here.”
My flame coursed through me, and my lips curved into a smile. I pressed down on our still intertwined fingers. “Ah. I found it, it’s right below this.”
“Many fae consider that the heart of their magic,” he said quietly. I knew from the careful tone of his voice that he was trying to tell me something he wasn’t sure I had learned about my fae heritage.
I nodded in response, not needing more explanation at the moment. The concept was clear.
“The rope leads away from me, toward you.” My fire scorched down the connection like a lit fuse, but it left no destruction in its wake. “Can you feel it in the same place?”
I opened one eye to peek up at him. He was smiling. “I think so. Is your magic crossing?”
“Yes.”