Page 64 of Research with Rivals
I cleared my throat, released my grip, and pushed myself back. Some part of me didn’t want to go. But regardless of this win, nothing had changed since last night. He was unaware that the magic didn’t affect us this way. And I knew that wanting things for myself was foolish. If anything, seeing my father this afternoon had been a stark reminder.
Desire brought nothing but heartache and anger. I’d wanted my father to return—apparently, I needed to change my position on that, because he had returned at the most inconvenient time, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear his story. Or what about my desperate wish to go to the Vesten school? They hadn’t let me in because I wasn’t fully fae. Or when I’d wanted someone to teach me how to use my magic? No one would spare the time for a half-fae when I needed it.
Ambrose did.There was concern in his eyes as I met them, but he let me break our connection.
Wordlessly, I turned to focus on the painting. It was hard to tell what the gift given to the Vesten Point was. It was very small, even smaller than the other items pictured. One of them looked like a dagger. That must be what the Norden Goddess, Aurora, handed to the male fae, the first Norden Point. The other two items, from the Osten God and Suden God, looked like jewelry. Maybe a necklace and a ring? I peered closer. The item in Lord Arctos’s palm was even smaller than the ring.
“Can you tell what it is?”
Ambrose leaned forward, careful to give me space now that I’d separated us. I was fully aware of his presence anyway. The shape of him, the heat that always surrounded him, it wassomething I was painfully aware of—though usually better at ignoring.
I caught his scent as he leaned closer to the painting. The smell of pencil shavings and old books did something to me, and I couldn’t pretend it had to do with the magic connecting us.
Something sparked behind his eyes, and I knew he figured it out. “It’s the Vesten coin.”
I racked my brain trying to remember what that meant. It definitely had something to do with Vesten history.
Ambrose kept speaking. “Each of the gods granted the new court leaders an item that could enhance their power. This item works even better than we first anticipated. The object is inherently connected to the magic.”
While I’d known Ambrose would recognize the item, his answer brought a sudden exhaustion with it. Doubt swirled through my mind. I didn’t know enough Vesten history to be here. This was proof that I wasn’t one of them. Ambrose was.
My veil cat growled as my thoughts spun.
“Good. We should ask about it at the evening meal,” I said before making my escape. “I’m going to head up to my room. Can you point me in the right direction? Or I can find the steward.”
“I can show you.” His spine straightened, and he gestured forward.
He spoke a little on the walk. I knew he only filled the silence, but the information he shared, more history of the house or comments on other paintings and artifacts on display, reinforced my worry. He surely thought he was being helpful, welcoming, but it reminded me how unprepared I was for this.
Ambrose glanced at me as he finished speaking of the second Vesten Point and the work he’d done to spread the Vesten across the continent. His brow furrowed, and I recognized the look. It was one he gave every experiment before declaring it complete.It clicked then what his endless chatter meant. He wanted to know if I was ready to talk about something even more foreign than Vesten history. He waited for me to ask about my father.
“Did he say anything to you?”
Although Ambrose wasn’t privy to my thoughts, he clearly didn’t need an explanation about whohewas.
He nodded.
“Well?”
Ambrose stopped before a door on the second floor. He pointed. “Your room is here. Mine is right next to you.” He smiled sheepishly. “Lord Arctos’s idea.”
Now he wasn’t answering. What had my father said? “Ambrose.”
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “He wants to talk to you.”
“Yes, I think he made that clear when he ambushed me on the street.”
Ambrose’s hand didn’t manage to leave his hair; in fact, it gripped tighter at the roots. This was my family drama. What had him so worried?
“He’s staying at the inn near the Vesten cottages. He wants to talk to you.”
“You already said that.” What was he keeping from me? “Ambrose. If he said something to you, I’d like to hear it.”
His ears pinkened. “I think it should come from him. If it’s something you want to hear.”
I considered my brief interaction with my father. He’d looked … hopeful, but under my glare, as I realized who he was, his features had crumpled. What had he said? He just wanted to … what? Explain?
“Ambrose, I deserve to know what you do. He’s my father.”
