Page 42 of Research with Rivals
She choked on the sip of coffee she’d taken in my silence.
“Our working relationship,” I clarified. “I just thought that maybe if we knew each other outside of the Vesten Library, if we spent time together like we did when we helped Vincent and Luna, that maybe our relationship wouldn’t be so antagonistic.”
She huffed out something that could have been a laugh—or a strangled snarl, I wasn’t sure. “So, you think your intent blended with mine?”
I nodded.
She didn’t look up as she took another bite of her breakfast. I wasn’t sure what else to say. I’d admitted what I needed to. “I’ll help find out how to undo it,” I said. “We’ll both take time away from Lord Arctos’s project to fix this.”
“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Her voice was quiet, which in my experience with Evelyn meant that she desperately wanted the answer but wasn’t prepared to say as much. I wanted to tell her, but how would that sound?
I wasn’t sure my actions were from magic. I thought I was just obsessed with you.
Something in my face must have shown my hesitation.
Finally, she glanced up, looking around the room again instead of at me. “If this morning is any indication, I’d say the magic is getting its way.”
Was this because of the magic? I hadn’t felt any pressure in my chest when considering telling her about my family. Mostly, I had wanted her to know. To know me better, to know that my ticks, my quirks, weren’t as hostile as she seemed to believe. I couldn’t say that, either. Instead, I held her gaze. “The getting to know each other is a bit one-sided.”
She laughed but didn’t steer the conversation toward her or her family. “I think figuring out how to undo this”—she gestured between us—“will help us with Lord Arctos’s project. At least if we work together on it, we’ll remain on equal footing.”
I dipped my chin. She pushed back from the table, taking our empty plates to the kitchen to clean. She did so seamlessly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to use the soap and rag I had there. I only watched in fascination.
“Thank you for breakfast,” she said at last. “And for sharing about your family. I’ll let you take your siblings to school, and I’ll meet you at the library?”
“Sure,” I said, knowing she couldn’t see my nod.
Finishing the dishes, she gave me a final glance and slipped out the door. The truths I had shared didn’t stop the tug I felt as soon as she was out of sight.
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.
