22. LONNIE

22

LONNIE

THE CUTTHROAT DISTRICT, INBETWIXT

I woke up alone.

It took a long moment for me to realize where I was. Or, somewhat more importantly, why I wore nothing but a damp towel. Then, it all came rushing back to me–the vault, Bael's injuries, the blood and terror. It all felt a bit like a dream. Like one of those overly vivid nightmares that I used to have often, but which lately had not plagued me.

I knew it hadn't been, though. It wasn't a dream, and yet I glanced down at my wrists for confirmation.

I blinked in surprise when I beheld the smooth, unmarked skin.

I hadn't taken any blood from anyone else to heal myself, and usually I healed at the same rate as any other human. How odd.

On a hunch, I got up from the bed and walked directly over to the bathing room. I dropped my towel to the floor and stood naked in front of the long mirror, inspecting myself.

My skin looked entirely too smooth. Undamaged and unscared by the many years of injuries I'd sustained as a servant and even afterward. I reached up and pressed my fingers into the point on my shoulder where a crossbow bolt had pierced me, and found no mark of it. I turned around, looking over my shoulder at my back. Once, there had been a jagged mark there from where the obsidian crown had cut into my spine. Now, of course, there was nothing. The only scar that remained was the imprint of Scion's teeth on my throat, which stood out pink and raw, as if it had only just healed recently.

I supposed with all the magic I was using, my body was responding.

Distantly, I recalled Lady Thalia saying something about this. She'd commented that it was lucky that my scars were fading so completely, but I hadn't thought about it much. Or indeed, bothered to check very carefully.

Suddenly, a wild thought struck me and I pushed my hair back from my face to inspect my ears.

I let out a sigh of relief when I found them unchanged. One, still round and human and the other jagged at the edge. Once, the large scar on my ear had been my greatest source of insecurity, but now I hardly ever thought about it. The scar itself had disappeared like all the others. Though, I supposed, magic couldn't replace the missing flesh that had been torn off the top.

I glanced up at myself again, almost surprised to find that I was smiling.

This likely also meant that Bael would have no scars from the incident yesterday. In time, it would be as if it had never happened.

Cheered by that thought, I splashed some water on my face and went in search of something to wear.

For the last day or so, I'd had nothing to wear but the gown I'd had on when we escaped from the mob at the would-be coronation. I'd torn the skirt off to make it easier to move, but now I couldn't bear the thought of putting it back on. Not only was it filthy and bloodstained, it was damn uncomfortable.

After discovering that there was nothing in the bedroom, not even a robe, I wrapped myself in my towel once more. I opened the door slowly and poked my head out into the familiar hallway, listening.

There wasn't a single sound.

Of course, I hadn't really expected that there would be. We were the only people here, and I'd already gathered that Scion must have returned to the den to check on Bael. Still, I practically ran down the hall, nervous that someone might come upon me lurking the hallways in a towel.

I stopped in front of the first door on the right and poked my head inside. It was a store room, very like the one where Bael and I used to practice shadow walking. Not bothering to linger, I shut the door and moved on down the hall. I was sure there would be a dresser with clothes in it somewhere. This was Cross's primary residence, was it not? He must have other rooms for his guests, or perhaps a closet where Siobhan might keep extra garments.

Finally, my search paid off. I threw open the last door along the hall and found myself standing in a lavish bedchamber. It was much larger than the room I typically slept in, and to my relief there were two long dressers pushed against the wall facing the bed. I tiptoed quickly across the floor and threw open the top drawer. Immediately, I recognized the deep purple and red fabrics folded on top.

"Perfect," I muttered aloud, though no one was there to hear me.

Back when we'd first visited Inbetwixt, Scion had bought me enough clothing to outfit me for possibly the rest of my life. I'd hardly gotten to wear any of it, though, before we'd had to leave everything at the thieves' den and return to the castle.

I'd hoped that somewhere Cross had kept it all, and it seemed my hope was not misplaced.

I reached into the drawer pulling out a large stack of garments all in warm red and purple hues. Before I could go through everything carefully, a sudden rap on the window made me jump and look up.

My gaze scanned the room nervously as the tapping sounded again. I narrowed my eyes at the window, and crossed the room to fling open the heavy red drapes.

Sun steamed through the enormous window, illuminating the entire room. Outside, the city was awake and I could see people passing by below, some stopping to talk while others hurried by carrying shopping bags. Directly in front of me, Quill was flapping his enormous wings, hovering outside the window and tapping on the glass.

My eyes widening in surprise, I reached up and unlatched the window, throwing it open so that Quill could flutter inside.

"What are you doing here?" I hissed.

The bird swooped once around my head and landed on the bed. He narrowed his eyes at me, giving me a look that clearly seemed to say "Where else would I be?"

"I just assumed you were in the capital?" I told the bird.

"Assumed wrong, then, didn't you? Foolish child."

Indeed, Quill had not come with us to Cheapside, nor to Inbetwixt. I knew the bird didn't like Inbetwixt because the underground thieves' den made him nervous. Therefore, I'd assumed Scion had ordered the bird to watch the capital and report back to him in that strange unclear way in which they communicated.

"Well what is it?" I asked, wrapping my towel more firmly around me.

Quill hopped toward me, and I gasped when I spotted the purple ribbon tied to his front leg. I bent to inspect it and found that it wasn't a ribbon at all, but a tiny strip of my ruined dress. The fabric was holding a tiny piece of parchment to the bird's leg.

My eyes wide, I gently untied the fabric, having absolutely no idea what to think. I took the little scroll of paper and spread it out on the floor in front of me.

Little Monster,

I don't trust Scion to actually tell you why I had to leave, and maybe I'm not the only one because this damned bird wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote you this note.

I love you too fucking much and it's killing me. I told you back in the castle that if somehow my presence was hurting you, I wouldn't hesitate to walk away. Now I have to go if there's ever going to be a real chance for us to be happy.

I'm sorry. I promise we'll see each other again. You know I'll always find you.

He hadn't signed it, but he didn't have to. I would have recognized Bael's tone anywhere, even in writing.

"Where is he?" I demanded of the bird. "Where did you get this?"

For once, the bird only stared back at me–just a bird and nothing more.

Frustrated, I flopped back down on my ass and moved to lean my back against the dresser, my head on my knees. I supposed I couldn't say I was surprised.

Sad? Yes.

Angry that he hadn't said goodbye? Yes.

Worried? Absolutely.

But I was not surprised.

Something had been evidently wrong with Bael for some time now. He clearly hadn't wanted to discuss it, and perhaps I didn't either. Discussing it would have forced us to confront what I'd already long suspected. I was killing him, slowly, a little more everyday.

I'd known that was the case way back in that inn before I'd ever met Ambrose, and then it had been me who had to leave.

But even knowing that, I'd allowed myself to be happy. For these last two months, it was the first time I could remember being truly happy. Maybe not every moment, and certainly not when my mother died, but overall…this was the first time in my life that I'd known exactly where I was supposed to be and what I was doing. I wasn't afraid of where my next meal would come from, or that I might be attacked at any second. I wasn't being tormented by cruel court politics, or running for my life every other day.

I suddenly had a castle to live in, tasks to keep me busy, and two mates who clearly loved me. Things had been boring in a way that I desperately craved. And I couldn't bring myself to ruin it. I couldn't leave again, and I could ask too many questions of Bael in case he left instead.

Now, I supposed, it didn't matter. It had happened anyway. Bael was gone, I was running for my life again, and nothing was safe or comfortable or boring.

I didn't realize I was crying until I felt the tears dripping down my chin and onto my neck, and by then it was too late. I couldn't force myself to stop.

"Lonnie?"

I heard my name called down the hall, and shut my eyes. I recognized Ambrose's voice immediately, and wished I hadn't.

"I'm fine," I called back, my voice trembling and obviously distressed. "I'll come out in a minute."

Of course, he didn't listen.

I'd left the door open, and within seconds Ambrose appeared on the threshold looking a bit frantic.

Like all of us, he was still wearing his outfit from the coronation, although he'd abandoned his blue silk jacket at some point and now wore only the matching silk trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose his tattoos. His long silver hair was no longer loose and shiny, but pulled back in a haphazard braid.

For a moment, he didn't seem to see me sitting on the floor. He turned his head to the right, finally and spotted me on the floor. I watched his face change too quickly to understand every emotion there. Watched his eyes dart over me wrapped only in a towel and widen just a fraction before he frowned with concern. Darting over, he bent down and knelt in front of me. "What's wrong, love?"

My chest shook, making it impossible to get the words out and instead I nudged Bael's letter toward him with my foot. He glanced at it, his eyes moving quickly, reading it far faster than I had.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment.

I sniffed, getting my breathing under control, and finally looked up at him. "Why are you sorry?"

"Because I told him to go." He furrowed his brow, looking almost angry with himself.

"You did?"

He nodded. "I wasn't kind about it, either. Bael probably despises me now, but it had to be like that. He needed to leave, or I'm sure he wouldn't have lived another week."

I blinked at him, imagining that conversation. Picturing him being the sort of asshole that everyone expected him to be, all in service of the greater good.

It was probably always like that for him. Always having to play a role. Never able to get close to people because he knew exactly how it would end. He must have lived a very lonely life.

Without thinking or planning to do it. Without considering his reaction, and certainly without remembering I wore nothing but a towel, I surged forward and wrapped my arms around his neck. Ambrose went completely stiff, as if I were hugging solid stone, but I didn't care.

"Thank you," I muttered into his shoulder. "Thank you for doing that for me."

He just sat there for a long second, neither pushing me away nor raising his arms to hug me back.

With my face pressed into his chest I could hear his heart beating, and noticed when it sped up though he didn't say or do anything to make that reaction make sense. I pulled back slightly and stared at him.

He was looking at me with a kind of intense fire in his coal-black eyes. A hunger that nearly took my breath away, as well as an uncertainty that held me at arms reach. Like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to touch me like this. Or maybe, more accurately, like he wasn't sure what might happen to us if he did.

Remembering my promise to myself down in the vaults, I pushed up onto my knees. Like this, both kneeling, we were closer in height than we would have been on foot. I didn't have to stretch to reach him, or tilt my head all the way back to meet his eyes.

I inched closer until our faces were so close we were breathing the same air.

Ambrose had to know what was going through my head. He could have leaned forward and closed the small distance between our lips, but he didn't. Instead, he studied my face the same way I was studying his, and seemed to hold his breath, waiting.

I closed the last of that distance and kissed him, softly at first. Tentatively.

Ambrose didn't move, just sitting there frozen. There was only the memory of our last kiss, and the frantic sound of his heart that made me think he might want this. Want me.

When he continued to just sit there, I began to pull back, but then his hand shot out to stop me. He cradled the back of my head, tugging me closer and balling his fist into my hair.

A shiver of pleasure ran through my body when he parted my lips with his tongue. I opened for him, gasping into his mouth. His hand stayed in my hair while the other gripped my waist, tugging me closer until I could feel every muscle of his sculpted chest pressed against me.

I wriggled impossibly closer, digging my own fingers into his hair and pulling, holding him against me. I felt my towel slipping down until it pooled around my waist.

In response, Ambrose growled low in his throat, and bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. He fell backwards out of his kneeling position so he was sitting on the floor, and dragged me with him.

His hands moved to my waist, lifting me until my knees landed on either side of his, straddling his lap. I pressed down, feeling him hard beneath me. The contact pulled a gasp from me and a growl from deep in his throat. He gripped me harder, his fingers digging into the bare flesh of my sides so hard I was sure I'd have bruises in the shape of his fingers.

I felt wild and alive, like I was burning up from the inside out.

Suddenly with a panicked jolt, I jerked my head back and looked around the room.

Ambrose blinked at me, as if dazed. "What are you doing?"

"Checking that I haven't set the room on fire." I muttered distractedly. "It's happened before."

His eyes widened at me, and then he laughed. A real laugh, that lit up his entire face making him even more handsome than he already was.

I glanced back down at us, a slight heat rising to my cheeks. I hadn't planned to do this. Hadn't meant for the kiss to go so far, but still, I wasn't bothered. I wanted more, to go further and to find out what it would feel like to have all that intensity focused entirely on my body.

But maybe now wasn't the time.

I could only imagine what Scion would do if he came up here looking for us. For some reason, I didn't feel as if I were betraying anyone. Still, I needed to talk to him before I said or did anything else.

As if thinking the same thing, or perhaps guessing where my mind had gone, Ambrose lifted me gently off his lap and stood up. "Come on," he said, as casually as if nothing had happened. "Get dressed. There's food down in the den, and I'm sure you're hungry."

I was hungry, actually, and I nodded slowly as I too got to my feet.

Ambrose reached out and dragged the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip where he'd bitten me, wiping away the drop of blood pooling in the center. A jolt of heat traveled through me, throbbing low in my stomach. As if he knew what I was feeling, his eyes danced with laughter.

Still looking directly at me, Ambrose brought his thumb to his mouth and sucked. "You taste fucking delicious, love. I can hardly wait to taste the rest of you."