Page 42 of A City of Flames

A sensation flares in my chest as his gaze roams over my face and at my fuller curves. “Deputy,” I warn, and his eyes snap up.

“Miss Ambrose,” he retorts with a faint smile.

“Would you want a repeat of that night?” I raise a brow since the day I’d stormed out of his chambers is a memory that doesn’t stop coming up.

He shakes his head. “Most certainly not.”

“Then good, glad we can agree on—” I say before I’m stopped as Lorcan’s head whips to the side and swears under his breath.

I don’t see anything for a few seconds. Then I realize why Lorcan is moving away from me.

The general, along with a few other venators, come into sight, muttering to one another as they walk down the hall.

I look to Lorcan, wanting to ask how on earth he knew they were coming but the frustration emitting off him suggests not to.

“Deputy.” The general inclines his head as he comes to a halt along with the rest. There’s something so malignant in his gaze as he runs an eye over me. “I hope we haven’t interrupted anything.”

Lorcan doesn’t look at me, acts like I’m not there, so stepping up, I tell them, “I was just leaving.”

The general tilts his head as two other venators dressed in their leather armor stare me down, and like a stupid girl; I wait for Lorcan to acknowledge me.

He does not even flinch.

Bowing my head, I whirl around and don’t bother to look back and just as I turn the corner, not far out of reach, I hear the general say with a sigh, “Do we need to have another talk?”

I falter my steps. It’s the first time the general sounds... fatherly. Freya had told me he acted more as a father figure to Lorcan than her. Perhaps this is one of those moments that he is showing that side.

Whatever the situation is between them all, I’m still not fond of the treatment he gives to Freya, and as Lorcan mumbles something incoherent to the general, I hurry my footsteps again.

By midmorning the following day, I’d gotten up before the heady sun rose. I trained until Link could no longer stand my constant adrenaline, and then I explored the city once more. Passing academies where priestesses taught children, entering the clothing stores I couldn’t afford, and lastly, a library in Salus district that if Idris were here, he’d adore.

The building has but just a few people roaming by the tall ancient shelves, smears of vibrant orange paints brighten the stone pillars in every corner, and with just one single floor, the room stretches out far and wide. At first, I set out for generalized books, letting my fingers glide among the wooden edges... The light streams through dozens of long windows, but as if a beam focuses on a particular book, I come across one to do with the history of Zerathion.

Leira’s words are still fresh in my mind, and I’ve not stopped thinking about it the entire night. I thought of going back there, but I wasn’t sure the outcome would benefit me. I’d soon enough rush out of there again at the mention of my father.

And while I tried desperately to forget about him and what she’d said, I’d toss in my bed and think of the Rivernorth bloodline instead.

Tragic for a reign to fall and have no one remember the legacy. But I suppose there’s a reason to it, and shifters who still live since then are likely to know.

I wonder if the Golden Thief is one of them.

Sighing, I grab the book, worn and used. I flick through the pages and paintings depicting different variations of Solaris and Crello. No one knows what they looked like. Some imagine two beacons of light; others agree that they are exactly the sun and moon. While my mother used to think it was two goddesses.

She would tell me the tales of how Solaris and Crello spent so long wanting to share time and space. Then as twilight fell, dawn would wait, the two stealing glances at one another, wishing and yearning. And when they finally joined, life, power, death became their creation.

“So, not only does she threaten people, but she also likes to read.”

I snap the book closed, glancing up to find Rydan’s childish grin.

“Every day, I’m learning more about you, Ambrose,” he muses, folding his arms as he leans against the shelf.

“Have you been spying on me?” I attempt not to raise my voice as a frown stiffens my face.

“Of course not. Who do you think I am?” He asks, taking offense, but before I can answer how that is precisely what I imagine him to do, he says, “Look, I wanted to beat this man who is an all-time champion drinker of the flame spewers, and then I saw you enter the library which to me was suspicious.”

I make a face, holding the book to my chest. “You thought me entering a library... was suspicious?”

“Well, you constantly have this murderous charm to you that perhaps you were on your way to slaughter someone in here.”

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