Page 14 of Research with Rivals
Mom worried her lip. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what his animal was. That sounds silly, doesn’t it? He just always seemed so private about his shift. I never watched him do it.”
It wasn’t much to go on, but perhaps my father was extra secretive about his shift because his animal form was unusual. Iwouldn’t know until I talked to him about it. Some part of me felt bad that I required my father for this. Mom had done everything she could for me. She’d loved me unconditionally, had been there for me through the human changes and the Vesten even though, as a human herself, she did not know the Vesten ways. I never wanted her to feel like she hadn’t met my needs. She’d never failed me. It was always him who had.
“It’s alright, Mom.” I downplayed the animal that pushed to the forefront with my emotions. “I’m managing. But I’d like to worry about it less. I think he could answer some of those questions for me.”
“What makes you think you can find him? When he hasn’t been able to find us?”
I sighed. It seemed too harsh to remind her that I didn’t think he was looking for us. Mom and I would disagree on that fact until we heard it from the male’s mouth. “The Vesten historian is responsible for the court record keeping. At the very least, there is an annual census.”
She gave me a searching look as our food was delivered.
“Thanks, Mina,” I said.
“You two need anything else?”
I shook my head. “This looks great.”
As Mina walked away, Mom reached for me, placing her hand over mine. “If you’re sure this is what you want, you don’t have to worry about me. I will be fine with whatever you learn. You’ve never been one to give up on a question that was hard to answer. This is no different. I have no doubt you’ll get the promotion.”
With a quick squeeze, she removed her hand, and I dipped a chunk of homemade bread into the vegetable stew while it cooled. “Thanks, Mom.” I had never doubted her support. It was the hope lingering in her eyes that worried me.
“Now,” she said, cutting into her meat pie and watching the steam escape. “Who are you competing against for the promotion? Is it that handsome Ambrose boy? Tell me everything.”
I took a bite of the stew-soaked bread and raised an eyebrow at Mom.
“What? We’re not ignoring facts, are we? We can beat him while also acknowledging that his appearance is quite appealing.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Mom, of course it’s Ambrose. He’s the only one in the library who stands a chance.” I said it with a confidence I wasn’t sure I felt, leaving off what I’d discussed with Seraphina and Luna about Ambrose’s father. I didn’t want to hear Mom’s well-intentioned platitudes.
Tonight, I wanted to imagine that I could find the information Lord Arctos required before Ambrose did. I wanted to imagine that my unique skill set and thorough understanding of blood magic would help solve the god’s problem. I wanted to imagine that I’d be awarded the promotion because of my accomplishments, regardless of who my competition was.
5
Ambrose
Of course she was here. I had rearranged my morning to get to the library early, and it still wasn’t early enough. Evelyn was hunched over a book—the journal, which I’d left on her desk as requested—aggressively taking notes about what she read. Just once, I wished I could arrive before her and find out where the chair for the carrel across from hers went. My usual seat on the other side of the room mocked me as I strode to it.
I still couldn’t fathom what we’d heard yesterday, and couldn’t wait for Lord Arctos’s explanation. The Vesten God and Vesten Point had tested an unknown blood magic connection between themselves. It was reckless—the epitome of everything Father feared. It reminded me of … I glanced across the room at Evelyn. Well, it reminded me of someone else I knew. Evelyn’s research had always part fascinated and part terrified me.
Most days, I wasn’t sure if it was her courage or my caution that was more troublesome.
Evelyn had been a mystery I wanted to unravel from the first moment I met her. I wanted to know what she loved, what she hated, why she spent so much time on blood magic, and what made her so good at it.
We’d first met when Gabriel sent me to the Records Office, where the human officials of Sandrin kept their history. We’d needed to cross-reference some of our dates with theirs. The problem was that no one in the Records Office cared about fae records. I had approached the reception desk with little hope. The female sitting there stared at me, pre-annoyed by my arrival. I would have gone to anyone else, but she was the only one there, as if she’d drawn the short straw.
Not only had she been able to help me, she’d been able to tell me which of the human record books I would need to cross-reference with my fae ones. The organization was different. It was the way she described the human and the fae books that made me realize she didn’t consider herself a part of either group. My wolf had discreetly sniffed in an attempt to determine what kind of fae she was.
Apparently, I wasn’t as discreet as I thought. She reprimanded me for my presumption, but no lessons were learned on my part, as she also gave me the information I sought. She was half-Vesten. While she showed me the books I needed, she said I needed to tell her about myself, since I’d been so rude as to try and smell her magic. I was so intrigued with her I didn’t mind sharing. My work at the library had recently changed, so I told her about my research on blood magic. It was brand new, and I was still terrified of it. The first career decision I had made without my father’s approval, although I didn’t share that part; it was too personal. Instead, I told her the Vesten Point prized information on blood magic, and very little of it was available. I could prove myself invaluable if I made progress in this area. She didn’t stop me as I pointed out that theonly other researcher with published work on the topic wasn’t associated with any of the fae courts. They published everything independently.
Only then did I notice she had stopped in place. I turned to check on her, and her cheeks were pink. She tilted her head as if trying to solve a puzzle, then she surprised me completely when she whispered, “You can’t be Ambrose Yarrow.”
My mind couldn’t work fast enough to keep up with how she had arrived at my identity. Then she introduced herself. Evelyn Knowles. She was the independent researcher—E. Knowles.
When I realized who she was, the work she did outside of the Sandrin Records Office, I’d asked her why she worked here. Immediately, I’d known I said the wrong thing. She had pointed to the books I needed, and then she was gone.
Still, I had mentioned her to Gabriel that afternoon at the library. He’d needed to know there was a brilliant magic researcher stuck in the Records Office. We hadn’t spoken about it again, but Evelyn had started at the library a week later.
Evelyn and I had never made it past that first impression, though.
