31. Once Upon a Time
Chapter thirty-one
Once Upon a Time
Ione
I don’t know what I expected from a mage who traffics in stories older than memory, but Ambrose speaks like a man who carries the dust of centuries in his lungs.
Actually, now that I think about it, he does.
How old is he? Centuries? A millennia? He looks good for his age.
Oh god, Ione stop doing that. Looks aren't everything.
No, but they help. I hear Orlaya in my mind.
Orlaya.
"My sister," Her name comes out choked. "You have to at least let me contact her." Realization begins to swirl in my brain and my chest rises and falls quickly. "How long has it been? How many days?"
"Nine," He answers simply. "Athanasius has taken care of it. One of his powers, well with Luciara's help. Don't worry, she's none the wiser."
My eyes narrow."What?"
"Magic is the easiest way for me to explain it." He swirls his index finger in the air and dark green sparkles swirls around it. "The human mind is easy to trick, Orlaya is fine."
Can I believe him? She's going to kill me when I can speak to her again. When? Anxiety grips my chest. I have no idea where I am, where I'm going, who I'm with. I can't be so calm about this situation. Pushing the covers off, the dishes sweep on the floor.
"Hey!" Ambrose cries."I let you borrow my favorite cup, that's rude." He darts forward to pick up the pieces.
As soon as my feet hit the floor, I try to stand and fall to my knees.
"Where are you going, Ione?" Ambrose chuckles. "Get in bed, pretty girl, we don't have time for this."
"Nine days," I mutter, as pain stabs through my body. "This was supposed to be simple and fast." I groan. "Break the staff, get out of there, get back to my life."
"Well," Ambrose stands over me, following me as I drag myself to the door. "I could have told you that wasn't the plan."
"Stabbing me was?" Why do I feel like I'm going to faint? Why am I still in pain?k Oh right, never been stabbed before. Silly me.
"No," Ambrose grabs my waist and turns me over. He's staring at me with soft eyes. "I apologized for that, I was angry, and I should have never hurt you." His knuckles run down my cheek and I reach out to slap his hand away before he catches my wrist. "You're feisty, I like that."
Heaving me over his shoulder, he places me back in bed, clucking his tongue. "If I didn't toss myself into healing, you'd be suffering more."
"Thank you oh magnanimous one." I snap. "Stop fucking touching me."
His fingers rub along my stomach. "Make me."
Assault. It's my first go to. Instead, I stare daggers at him.
"That's what I thought." He moves away, and grabs the now fixed cup. He's quick to leave the room, and hands me another hot cup of tea. "Drink and I will tell you my story, the one that you're rudely interrupting."
Each word is slow, careful, heavy with something that feels like regret—but only just. He speaks of the Primordials like old gods with bad tempers, like kings who never abdicated their thrones.
A line from a cartoon pops into my head: We could rule them like gods…angry gods…
“Each one rules from a seat of power,” he says, voice low. “Where the world breathes them in through stone and exhales them into the stars.”
I blink at him. “And Athanasius?” A question I already dread the answer to.
Ambrose tilts his head. “Do you know where his seat is?”
I shake mine. “No.”
His smile is the kind that a man wears when he knows something you don't. Haughty and annoying. “The darkest place on Earth. The bottom of the Mariana Trench. He built a palace there… of whale bones.”
A chill slides down my spine. Bones. Of course it would be bones.
“That’s where he dwells. Where his followers find him. Where they summon him—and he brings them down.”
I can almost feel the pressure of that crushing dark. The abyssal cold of it. My lungs tighten. My heart squeezes.
“For easier contact,” he adds with a cruel smirk, “the Atacama Desert in Chile will do.”
I scoff. “You’re joking.”
He shrugs. “Do I look like the type?”
Kind of? I mean the buckles on the pants makes me think that, but if I say that? I sip my tea, my stomach screams at me, and Ambrose continues.
He begins to name them all.
"Luciara, she dwells in the glacier-veined silence of Mount Forel.
Moireth, like Destiny is a wanderer, impossible to pin.
" He spits the phrase: "Destiny finds you. A coward’s game." He sighs. "Chronomir, he rests where time drags its feet on Earth’s belly, along the Dead Sea’s ancient shores. They live their daily lives at those seats. They take council. They listen to their people… through avatars.” His voice tightens. “My sister was one.”
I fucking knew it. He wasn't in this simply because he's altruistic. There's a long pause.
“She served Athanasius. Thought she was chosen. Beloved.” He exhales hard, like something inside him is breaking just enough to show me the fracture.
“And then he took his true form. During a war no one remembers, because death buried the records along with the bones.
Millions died. And in that carnage, he feasted. "
I flinch. I don’t mean to, but I do. He sees it.
“Ione,” he says softly. “Death is indiscriminate. But it should be kind. Athanasius delights in it.”
My mouth opens before I can stop myself. “He loves me,” I snap. “He isn’t what you think he is.”
Ambrose raises an eyebrow. “Is he? How acquainted are you with death, to be so comfortable in his presence?”
I feel it then—rage blooming like fire in my chest. What is it about this guy that gets my blood going so quickly?
Maybe because he stabbed me, I'm not letting that go. My voice shakes but not with fear. “My parents are dead. My mother died when I was four. You ever been a toddler at a funeral? You don’t understand why your mom is a box in the ground, but you know it’s wrong.
You cry for her every night, and she never comes.
” My throat tightens. I push through. “My dad died when I was fourteen. I was in the crash. I watched the light go out of his eyes. I can still feel the blood on my hands when I think about it.” God, how long had it been since I thought of that moment?
Therapy, Orlaya put me in a ton of it to combat what she couldn't. I lean forward, eyes burning, and I will admit, I wanted to throw his precious cup again. “So yeah, Ambrose. I’m well-acquainted with death.”
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. He smiles. “We’re kindred souls, then.”
He tells me about his own blood trail. His parents. His sisters. Down to one—devoured by Athanasius. That’s the only word he uses. Devoured.
Ambrose speaks of vengeance like it’s holy. Like it’s the only religion that’s never failed him. He tells me of how he learned magic not meant for him, twisted it, made it his, until he could challenge primordials. In the 15th century, he says. He bound the avatars. One by one. Sealed them.
“I wanted humanity to live free,” he says.
“Outside their rules. But I was na?ve.” He sighs heavily, his arms crossed over his chest. "I almost had everything I wanted, honestly, I was very close to figuring out how to seal them for all time, until this realm fell into its black hole and is born again.
" He narrows his eyes. "Then you," He shakes his head. "You really love him?"
I do."Yes."
"I can see why he favors you." He doesn't say love. "Yeah, you…” His voice is soft. “You’re something else. A hypnotic beauty.” He reaches his hand out.
I draw back. “Don’t get cute. I might be weak right now, but I’ll cut your damn hand off if you touch me.”
He laughs. “Sure. Not now.” He winks. “Stockholm syndrome settles in quick, though.”
Disgust curls in my gut. "Fuck you."
"When you're feeling better." He chuckles.
“It's fine." He taps his chin. "I watched how he covered you, protected you in my fortress. He's searching for you now, I know it. You’re his prize,” he says with a shrug. “And now I have you. A bargaining chip. Or…” His eyes glint with something I can’t name. “Maybe more. I’ll let you figure that part out.”
"I don't do well with riddles." I spit, feeling sleepy.
"A pity. I love them." He smiles. "Tired yet?"
Oh shit. Like one too many benedryl, I can feel myself floating, feeling heavy at the same time. "You drugged me?"
"Just to make you sleep, and I promise," he lifts the blanket over me. "I won't do anything dishonorable, you'll come to me in time."
"Fu…" Consciousness is draining fast. The last thing I have energy for is to think of Athanasius…hard…can he feel that?