Page 67 of The Last Heir of Elsewhere

Certainly, she’d be horrified. She’d say I needed to stand up, dress, rejoin the world of the living.

I thought back to how in the palace, when I was laughed at and rejected by the other servants, she would quietly protect me. How when I could not seem to blend in as others did, I would pretend to be my quiet, capable sister, who always seemed to know the right thing to say. Even then, Rosey had always been the best of us. Always happier than me. Always more the optimist.

Perhaps now, I could pretend to be her once more.

The sun was shining brightlywhen I left the cabin, and found my way to the captain’s deck. Ambrose stood at the wheel, once again flanked by his tattooed male companion and the small, black haired woman. None of them looked at me as I approached, as if I were a startled deer and any movement might send me sprinting for cover.

“Morning,” I ground out when I stood mere feet away.

Ambrose glanced over at me tentatively, but didn’t mention anything about the last several days. “Hello, love.”

I watched him carefully, trying to think what to say.

It was not his fault that Rosey died. If anything, it was mine, and now I would have to find a way to live with that. The realization painted the rebel leader in a slightly brighter light, and now I was not sure how to speak to him.

“I need something to do,” I said stiffly.

“Something to do?” Ambrose let go of the wheel, and gestured for his companion to take his place as he turned to face me. “What do you mean?”

I looked to the side, nervously. “You asked about pastimes, remember? Even a job would be fine, I just…”

I needed to get off the floor and out of the damned cabin, is what I meant to say, but couldn’t bring myself to actually utter those words. I needed, not just a distraction, but a purpose. Something to focus on beyond the unhappiness that threatened to consume me.

“You need something to do,” Ambrose repeated, smiling. “Good. I’ll think of something.”

“Alright.”

“In the meantime,” he said, almost nervously. “Will you be joining me for dinner tonight?”

I bit my lip, then sucked in a deep breath, and imagined what my sister would say. “Yes.”

We atein near silence that night, Ambrose watching me like an overgrown hawk. Nothing went wrong, however, and after several hours and two courses, I left the table to return to the cabin.

When I pushed the door open, I froze, wondering for a second if I’d entered the correct room.

There, instead of the tiny single bed and the nest of clothing I’d made for myself in the corner, was a wide, comfortable looking mattress. It was more than big enough for two, and looked softer and more comfortable than anything I’d slept in since the four-poster in the obsidian tower.

Had he done this for me?

But why? Why do anything kind at all? Why bring me food, and answer all my questions? Why would he take me as a prisoner, but then treat me as a guest?

Perhaps, I had misunderstood Ambrose Dullahan.

27

SCION

THE WILDES, NEAR THE BORDER OF UNDERNEATH

“Have you ever tried to cross the Hedge?” Bael asked.

I looked sideways at my cousin. “Why the fuck would I have done that?”

“Just making conversation,” he replied, his tone singsong. “Have you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course not, but I have been here once before.”

After we’d both recovered from the incident in Inbetwixt, it had taken only a few days to cross the Waywoods and arrive in the Wilde land outside underneath. As this was a trip I’d made before, it wasn’t difficult to picture locations to travel to, and shadow walking was as simple as it was within the capital.

---