Page 63 of Research with Rivals
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Evelyn
The warm weight of Ambrose’s palm at my back was more distracting than I cared to admit. What had happened in there? We hadn’t decided anything. Lord Arctos had cut off the one conversation we should have had. “What did you speak about before I arrived?”
Ambrose shrugged. “He asked about our work prior to this. I told him what I could of your papers and my history work at the library.”
“You didn’t discuss theories?”
He shook his head. “Not more than what you said. I didn’t want to discuss the idea of working through the magic, since it would involve sharing our predicament.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Lord Arctos obviously knows, but I don’t think he’ll tell the Vesten Point unless we do. And I’d rather not tell him when our situation only makes us look incompetent with blood magic.”
Ambrose’s ears pinkened, but he nodded. “Every time I asked about anchors, Lord Arctos changed the topic.”
That didn’t seem right.It was part of the reason we were here. I only had myself to blame for not being there to witness it, though. If I hadn’t lost my composure when my father showed up, if I hadn’t shifted and run, maybe I could have combatted Lord Arctos’s redirections.
I rubbed my forehead. It throbbed worse when Ambrose’s hand dropped from my back. He said something about the house and the layout that I didn’t quite catch. It wasn’t as if I didn’t trust Ambrose to relay our ideas. Astonishingly, I did. But that wasn’t really the point. I wanted to have an impact on the direction of our court, and being in the room during the discussion was part of that. Mostly, I was disappointed in myself for missing out.
“What painting did you see about the creation?” Ambrose asked.
That brought me from my thoughts. “Lord Arctos didn’t give you a tour?”
He laughed dryly. “Lord Arctos doesn’t find me as entertaining as he finds you.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but I knew, with Ambrose’s knowledge of fae history, the painting might mean more to him than it did to me. I took his hand and pulled him in the opposite direction.
He sucked in a breath behind me, but as I tugged, he stumbled along. At some point, he must have decided to follow me, because no amount of force from me could drag Ambrose Yarrow anywhere he didn’t want to go. He was too big. His hand was too warm and reassuring.
Wait. What?
No, I felt it—his hand reclasped mine like it held on for dear life. It was like I was an adventure, and he wasn’t sure he daredto embark. His grip tightened as we followed the hallway near the entry.
“Do you feel the magic here?” I asked as we walked.
“The magic here feels … heavier than elsewhere. Is that what you mean?” he asked. I had an image of him pulling his hand from mine to jot notes in his journal, but they remained intertwined.
“Not that. This is different. It’s in this house, or maybe on this property specifically. The magic feels so old.” I knew I wasn’t explaining it right.
Ambrose tugged me to a stop. He shook his head. “I don’t think I feel that. Describe it.”
“I’m not sure I can. Ancient, primitive. Powerful. All I can do is describe it with single words.”
Now his hand was reaching for his notebook. “When did you start?—”
I waved him off and took a few more steps down the hall. “Don’t worry about it. This is more important.” When we came to where I had stopped with Lord Arctos. I pointed to the painting. “See? They were each given gifts.”
Ambrose’s brow furrowed slightly. He stepped closer to the painting and nodded.
“What if … what if whatever this gift is could be used as an anchor?” My finger all but touched the image of the item being passed from Lord Arctos to the proud-looking Vesten female.
Suddenly, Ambrose reached out and tugged me toward him. His strong arms wrapped around me in what I could only call an embrace. “Evelyn, you’re a genius.”
I knew that. I was pretty sure he already knew that. But if this was what it took for him to say it out loud, I’d allow it. My cheek was pressed against his chest. He was solid, but not uncomfortable. His chin came to rest on top of my head.Something could be said of the way I fit so perfectly into the cage of him without feeling trapped.
My arms wrapped around his waist, and I nuzzled into him farther.
Oh, my gods.I nuzzled?
