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“I could ask you the same question,” Ambrose said, a teasing note in his voice. “Why are you up?”
“Nightmare,” I said briskly. “And I was looking for Bael.”
Ambrose tilted his head at me, almost concerned. “Is he missing?”
“I doubt it,” I replied, already edging away toward the stairs. “I mean, he’s missing in the sense that I don’t know where he went, but I’m sure he’s just downstairs somewhere.”
Ambrose quickly turned to fall in step beside me as I continued toward the grand staircase. “I’ll help you look.”
I stiffened. A large part of me didn’t want that. Any time spent alone with Ambrose sent my mind reeling. Still, another part of me missed talking to him. I looked up at him, meaning to ask if he could so easily abandon whatever he’d been doing. Instead, however, I found myself caught in his penetrating gaze.
Like all Fae, Ambrose was almost supernaturally handsome. I’d noticed that from the very moment we first met—it would have been impossible not to. He looked a lot like Scion, except that his eyes were dark and his hair was an almost luminescent silver. He wore it in a long intricate braid on one side, and shaved close to the scalp on the other revealing the dark tattoos that climbed up his neck and over the side of his head. His pointed ears were adorned with a collection of gold hoops, as well as a single bone, which stabbed through the top of his right ear like a tiny dagger.
Ambrose blinked at me, his mouth tilting up in an arrogant smirk. I looked down and flushed, suddenly realizing I’d been staring at him for several beats too long.
I cleared my throat, and looked down as we descended the stairs into the entrance hall. “I haven’t seen much of you these last weeks.”
His smirk died. “No. I’ve been doing my best to stay out of the way.”
“Out of Scion’s way, you mean?”
He grimaced. “Exactly. There’s no need to provoke him more than I already am with my mere presence.”
We crossed the large entrance hall and walked through the door into yet another winding corridor. I pressed my lips together in a flat, considering line. “I don’t think–”
“Stop,” he interrupted with a laugh. “Whatever you’re about to say will only scald your throat. We both know full well that my brother would like nothing more than to stab me in my sleep.”
I let out a breath. “True. He hasn’t, though. That’s something.”
“He hasn’t only because he thinks you’ll all need my help to break the curse. The moment we’re finally free of it, I’m sure my days will be numbered.”
I frowned at him. He seemed oddly casual–cheerful even–about the idea of his own death at the hands of his brother. Unfortunately, I was quite sure he was correct: Scion was practically foaming at the mouth to get rid of Ambrose, especially since he’d captured me and taken me on his ship to Underneath. Nothing, not even Ambrose helping to free him and Bael from the dungeon would convince Scion that his brother was anything but a monster.
“It could be far worse,” I said weakly, trying to ease the discomfort of the situation. “I think Bael likes you, at least,”
“Not really,” Ambrose said, still a bit too cheerful. “Except for you, and perhaps Scion, Bael likes everyone and no one exactly the same. Which is to say that he’s a friend to anyone who is useful to him, but would slit his own mother's throat without thought if she betrayed him.”
“Yeah, well, you can hardly blame him for that. If I had Raewyn for a mother I’d consider slitting her throat at least twice a day.”
Ambrose laughed, but I didn’t join in.
I’d spoken without thinking, and the mention of mothers always put me in a foul temper. Hoping to ward off my own depression, I changed the subject. “Have you seen anything useful to do with the curse?”
It was Ambrose’s turn to look morose. “Not recently. I’ve been struggling to see anything clearly since we left Underneath.”
“Really?” I looked up at him again, surprised. “That’s unusual, is it not?”
He shrugged. “Yes and no. Like any other skill, all magic requires regular practice. Admittedly it’s been many years since I had to consciously work at improving, but there are new…factors that have changed things for me.”
“Factors like what?”
“Nothing you need to worry about now,” he said airily. “But don’t be surprised if I join you in your practice sessions.”
I smiled weakly. There certainly were enough opportunities for him to join me if he wanted to. For the last two months, I’d spent nearly everyday practicing my magic.
It was still difficult given that I had no idea what the Source of my power was, or how much there was to pull from, but steadily I’d been getting better. I could conjure flames now at will, and had much better control over setting entire rooms on fire when upset. Best of all, I hadn’t summoned any afflicted to me in weeks. Bael theorized–and so far he seemed to be correct–that the better control I had on my power, the less likely it was to call Wilde creatures to me. Why that was, we had no idea, but I was grateful not to have to contend with the vicious monsters of Aftermath on a daily basis.
“Where are you leading us?” Ambrose asked conversationally.
