Page 53 of Research with Rivals
Evelyn
For the first time, I shifted because I wanted to. The heat consumed me but didn’t burn. I let it overtake me and create something new, just as Ambrose said. On the other side, my veil cat and I shared space.
Ambrose’s words about making peace with my veil cat circled in my head. She and I weren’t one, but we weren’t fighting for control. I’d decided to shift, and she took charge afterward. Ambrose settled my pack on my back and then shifted himself. Within moments, my veil cat chased the large gray wolf through the woods.
At least it was a step in the right direction.
The simplicity was astounding. As I sprinted through the trees, faster than any horse I could have ridden, my hackles rose. This could have all been easily avoided if my father hadn’t left. If he had taken five minutes of his life to tell me what Ambrose just did. But no, he hadn’t had the decency to ensure I wasn’t a danger to myself or others.
My veil cat growled, and we ran faster.
The gray wolf picked up speed just ahead, and I momentarily forgot my anger and pushed forward. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he understood that chasing him—or racing him, as we’d taken turns doing on our journey—cleared my head. There was no room for anger at my father when I could challenge Ambrose to a sprint.
Dozens of miles later, we still played, taking turns with who was in the lead. My veil cat ran so fast we passed Ambrose, which meant, inadvertently or not, he was now making good on his promise to chase me. My entire body was alight, on fire, and it had nothing to do with my magic. Anticipation thrummed through me. What would he do if he caught me? Part of me wanted to find out.
This is just the blood magic. I have to ignore it.
I took a deep breath and sprinted faster. The night had grown fully dark, and the only light ahead was the entryway to the Crossroads Inn. It was newly built in the last few months, after the mist plague had been cleared and travel across the continent resumed. The inn was aptly named for its location. This junction was the crossroads of the continent. The road east and west led between Compass Lake, where the fae courts were situated, and Sandrin, the largest city on the continent. It was crossed by a road that ran north and south, connecting the continent’s smaller settlements for trade and travel.
It was no surprise that the inn had been built here so quickly. Any proprietor would be lucky to have such a sought-after location. On our approach, a dull roar emanated from the building. Many travelers were returning home from the Long Night holiday in Sandrin, stopping here before returning to their northern or southern villages.
We didn’t need to get any closer with me as a veil cat. I glanced at Ambrose in wolf form, who had also halted in the woods surrounding the inn. We needed to shift back.
Can I shift back?
The gray wolf nodded at me, as if insisting I go first. His nod was one of encouragement, like he was telling me that I knew what to do. Maybe now, thanks to Ambrose, I did. He had said the process was the same to return to my half-fae form. The real question was how to get the cinnamon candy when I was still a veil cat.
I glanced again at Ambrose. He waited patiently, the golden eyes of his wolf unblinking. It was like he wanted me to try on my own before he assisted. Unsure what to do, I searched myself for that all-consuming flame that had thrust me from half-fae to veil cat.
It wasn’t there.
My body heated with something different: shame. What kind of Vesten was I, if I’d be forever dependent on candy to help with my magic?
Ambrose sensed my attempt and shifted. He pulled more candy from his bag and held one out to me. His palm was flat, offering the candy up with little fanfare. I could probably even grab it without touching his skin. My cat didn’t want to. I licked the candy from his palm, and heat flared through me—whether at my behavior or the candy, I wasn’t sure.
My fire consumed me, like a fuse that lit the shift back into my half-fae form. I was clear-headed and had no trouble shifting with my clothes on and my pack still on my back.
Before the fire could burn into anger again at the thought of how easily my father could have helped with this, Ambrose was in my line of sight. His brow pinched with concern briefly, then he gestured toward the inn’s front door.
Only a few weeks ago, it was another inn that we had worked together to save. It had been the first time I realized that our investigative styles complemented each other. When we weren’t arguing about the test subjects for blood magic, he was a fantastic brainstorming partner. I’d never had one before, unless we counted all the work we’d done together on this current project, which would be a different problem when it came to claiming the prize.
My mind wandered, and Ambrose strode ahead of me as I walked into the inn. It was warm and welcoming. Floor-to-ceiling dark wood was lit with the orange glow of lamps at the entry. Ambrose approached the desk, but off to the left was an ample open space set as a dining room. A fireplace crackled in the center, and tables and chairs circled it. Travelers filled the space. Overflowing from the seats, they stood in groups, engaged in conversations. I wondered how many of those travelers had known each other before this evening.
The inn felt like a place of new beginnings and infinite possibilities. Scents of cooked meat and roasted vegetables filled my nostrils. My stomach roared to life. The long run must have burned off my entire meal at the tavern. I’d say that was why I didn’t hear Ambrose’s alarmed words when he spoke.
Hand on my shoulder, he turned me back to him. I raised my chin so that I could meet his eyes, finally understanding that something was wrong. Concern filled my voice as I asked, “What is it?”
Ambrose held out a single key. “They are very full. I’m sorry.”
Still, his panic didn’t translate. My face must have reflected my confusion.
“They only had one room left.” He paused. “For both of us.”
We grabbeda light meal before the kitchen closed. The inn’s owner was younger than I expected, or at least she looked young. It was impossible to tell if she could thank fae heritage for her ageless beauty. She apologized profusely for our situation, and added that she mentioned the lack of vacancy to the messenger Lord Arctos had sent ahead to secure the room. The proprietress made excuses, saying the Vesten God must not have received the message. I had my doubts about that assumption.
We lingered in the dining room. I tried to convince myself that it was the atmosphere here, but whatever I’d felt on entering the inn hadn’t dissipated with the news of the room. There was something special about this place, and it felt like all the patrons were aware. The ideas of fae, old fae, and human didn’t seem to matter here as they did in Sandrin.
An energy had existed on the continent since the mist plague was removed—one that couldn’t be ignored. Here, the change felt real. I hoped it could be for the better. I hoped it could spread across the continent, with the tenacity of the all-consuming flame that now fueled my shift. I hoped, with something like the Vesten historian position, I could be part of that change.
