5. AMBROSE

5

AMbrOSE

THE OBSIDIAN PALACE, EVERLAST CITY

" Y ou must be fucking joking," Scion snapped. "You're expecting us to look through every book? There must be five thousand volumes in here."

"At least ten thousand, actually," I said blandly. "And yes. We'll have to go through all of them."

Scion gave me a withering look. "What is the point of this, exactly?"

"Aside from appeasing your mate? This is Grandmother's study. All these books contain her notes on her visions going back hundreds of years. If there's anywhere in the castle that contains information about the curse, it's here. I would think that might interest you, given that you're currently the most likely to kill us all."

Scion glowered. "I don't know about the most likely."

He glanced across the room and I followed his gaze to where Bael was lying on his back on the carpet, one arm behind his head, staring up at the vaulted ceiling. In a way, I was quite glad to see him—both human and awake. Bael had spent many weeks either sleeping, or roaming the lower floors of the castle in his lion form. This was a vast improvement on both.

As if feeling our eyes on him, Bael turned his head to look at us. His yellow eyes flashed, the pupils dilating into slits for half a second before returning to normal. "Did you two say something?" he asked, his tone distant.

Scion shook his head, and turned to the nearest bookcase pulling a volume out at random and flipping to the very center of the book.

It was the first time the three of us had been alone together since…actually, I wasn't sure we'd ever been alone all together. Certainly, it was the first time Scion and I had willingly been in the same room since before I'd left the family, and I supposed I couldn't be surprised there was so much animosity.

Half an hour had passed since Lonnie left to talk to her mother, and I was already feeling the absence of her calming presence. With her around, Scion had avoided direct confrontation with me. Maybe she was changing him–she'd certainly changed me. But now that she was gone, my brother's anger towards me seemed to intensify.

We were standing in the middle of Grandmother Celia's study. The familiar round room stood at the very top of the southern tower—fortunately not one of the towers that had been damaged in the battle several months ago.

It was a perfectly round room with a deep burgundy carpet and floor to ceiling bookshelves on every wall. In the center of the room was an oak desk. On the desk were an enormous statue of a bronze raven, and several stacks of loose parchment.

Many years ago I'd spent entire days here, training to use my talent under the care of Grandmother Celia—the only other omniscient seer in our family. Now, the room felt hollow and empty without her presence.

Scion looked up from his book and grimaced. "This is all ramblings about politics in Nevermore. It's nothing to do with us."

"Pick another book then," I snapped.

"Aren't you supposed to know everything?" my brother said snidely. "Why don't you tell us what book to look in?"

I sighed, pinching the bride of my nose. "I wish I could."

"But—"

"Drop it, Sci," Bael said lazily. "Yelling won't help anything."

"Listen," Scion snapped, rounding on Bael. "If we're all forced to work together I just think it's strange that he—" he glared at me again "—isn't helping. What is the fucking point of being a seer if it doesn't work when it would actually be useful?"

I pressed my lips together to prevent myself from saying something I'd regret and turned my back on Scion. Ironically, I agreed with him, but there wasn't a single fucking thing I could do about it.

On the surface, Scion might be angry about my lack of helpfulness—something that bothered me as well—but deep down, I knew this argument was about far more than my visions. Scion had harbored resentment towards me for most of his life, and he had every right to, but just because I understood him didn't mean I enjoyed the fallout.

It had been foolish to agree to work together to go through Grandmother's office, even if it pleased Lonnie to see us getting along.

"You're being juvenile," I barked.

"And you're being an ass," Scion snapped back.

For some reason I couldn't explain, I felt a smile tugging at my lips. Maybe because this was the longest conversation I'd had with my brother in years, argument or not. Maybe because the argument itself felt so pedantic, like a real fight between siblings. I supposed, I wouldn't really know.

I turned my back so Scion wouldn't see my face as I wrestled with the insane grin that threatened to overtake my forced indifference. Bael caught my eye and smirked.

My cousin was practically a stranger to me. By the time I left the court of Elsewhere, he'd been barely three-years-old. Still, I could already tell we'd get along well. Bael appeared completely unfazed by everything, except when it came to Lonnie's well-being. On that point, we were in complete agreement. Besides, he seemed to take as much pleasure in antagonizing Scion as I did.

My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. For a second, I thought it was Lonnie, coming back from speaking to her mother. But no, she wouldn't knock. I took a step toward the door, and reached out a hand to open it.

"Who's out there?" Scion asked darkly.

I paused, my hand outstretched, and glanced back at him. "How should I know?"

My brother raised an eyebrow, sneering. "Aren't you supposed to know everything?"

I ground my teeth. Not that Scion could know it, but I hadn't been able to see much of anything since we'd left Underneath. It was clear to me what the problem was: Like almost all seers, I couldn't see any visions of my own future. I couldn't see Lonnie either, for entirely different reasons, and what little I could see of my brother's future was always hazy. Scion was prone to second-guessing everything. That quality allowed him to seal his mating bond with Lonnie without risking death, but it also made it nearly impossible to get a clear vision of his future. Of the people within the castle who mattered, only Bael made a good subject for prophecy. Unfortunately, he'd spent the better part of the last several weeks sleeping. All that combined to build a brick wall in my mind. I couldn't see through it, and if I tried to peer around it I could find no edge to the wall.

I could only conclude that I'd be spending the foreseeable future with Lonnie and Scion, at the very least. A large part of me was glad of that, but it still left me nearly powerless.

The person on the other side of the door knocked again, and I jumped. I'd nearly forgotten about them. Hastily, I swung the door open, and found myself nearly nose to nose with Idris. I took a step back. "Hello."

"I could hear you all shouting down the hall," the other male said by way of greeting. "Thought you might like some help."

I furrowed my brow in slight annoyance, but stepped aside to let him into the room. "We're fine," I said flatly. "You really don't?—"

I broke off as Idris shouldered past me and into the room. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

There was nothing specifically wrong with Idris, per say. I'd spoken to him when he first boarded my ship after Underneath, and I knew he was being truthful when he said he didn't remember exactly how he'd ended up in the palace dungeons. He also had no ill will toward any of us, and didn't intend to harm Lonnie–always my first priority. Still, there was something…odd about the man. Something that I didn't think had anything to do with his being from another millenia.

"What are you looking for?" Idris asked conversationally.

Scion looked up from his book and glared at the male. "Why the fuck does it matter to you?"

I stifled a grin. For once, I wholeheartedly agreed with my brother, though I might have said so more tactfully.

To his credit, Idris took Scion's mood in stride. "It doesn't," he replied easily. "But there's not much else for me to do, is there? You all freed me, I may as well try to be useful."

Bael sat up, cocking his head appraisingly at Idris. "You said you were born seven thousand years ago?"

Idirs nodded with a weak smile. "Something like that."

"Well, that would have been the time of Aisling, wouldn't it?"

I went stiff waiting for Idris to reply.

Of course, this wasn't the first time it had occurred to me that seven thousand years was almost exactly the time since the curse on our family was originally enacted. Yet, I didn't exactly believe that Idris was really so old. I believed he thought he was, but then, years–even months–of confinement could easily drive a male insane. It was far more believable that he had lost track of time than that he was truly as old as the legendary queen Aisling.

Before Idris could even open his mouth to reply, the shrill call of a raven pierced the air. We all instinctively turned to face the doorway as, in a flurry of black feathers and sharp talons, Scion's pet raven burst into the room. It swooped low over our heads, landing on his master's shoulder with another urgent screech.

My stomach sank.

I didn't have to understand the bird to know something was wrong. It had been watching Lonnie, and if the bird was here…where was she?

I ran down the stairs toward the dungeon. Bael had taken the lead and sprinted several paces ahead of me, while Scion took up the rear, seeming to be trying to get more information out of his bird. Whether he could actually talk to the thing, I had no idea, but for once I hoped so.

"We shouldn't have let her go alone," I grumbled to no one in particular. "Rhiannon is more dangerous than she looks, and she's already tried to kill Lonnie once."

"Why do you care?" Scion barked. "She's not your concern."

I opened my mouth to retort, and closed it again.

In a way, he was right. For now, Lonnie really wasn't my concern. And unless I was honest with her, she never would be.

Still, I couldn't keep myself from rushing downstairs with the others to make sure she was safe. I consoled myself with the knowledge that Idris was running along with us, and he certainly had no claim to Lonnie, nor a reason to care aside from general curiosity.

We burst through a round wooden door at the bottom of the stairs and into the hallway which housed the entrance to the dungeons. I turned my head, frantically searching for some sort of danger, only to come crashing to a halt.

Lonnie herself sprinted toward us, running away from the dungeons as if there was some terrible monster chasing her.

Mingled relief and confusion hit me at once, followed by anger. She was alive, yes, but she was crying.

She reached Bael first, and threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his shoulder. He patted her head, while looking over her shoulder at me, confusion across his face.

‘What happened? ' he mouthed.

I shook my head. I'd never been more frustrated by my inability to see Lonnie's future. My blood pounded in my ears and my adrenaline surged. I wanted to destroy whatever had upset her, or better yet, to have stopped her from encountering whatever it was in the first place.

"Did your mother do something?" Bael demanded, seeming as frustrated as I felt at not knowing how to help her.

She shook her head and sucked in a great rattling breath. "No. Not really–"

"Then what–"

"I did," she sobbed. "I could have killed her!

"Did you kill her?" I asked sharply.

"No," she wailed. "But I wanted to. She's my mother, I can't believe–" she broke off with a shuddering gasp. "She…she upset me, and I nearly destroyed everything."

"What the fuck did she say to you?" Scion demanded angrily.

Lonnie shook her head, her words turning practically incoherent. She buried her face in Bael's shoulder, and I couldn't make out what she was saying, picking up only disconnected phrases, "Aisling" "Rosey" and "Heir" coming out the clearest.

We all glanced at each other over Lonnie's head. Scion looked quite like he wouldn't have minded if Lonnie killed her mother, but Bael looked troubled.

I felt somewhere in the middle.

Unlike Bael and Scion, I'd never had to learn to control destructive combative magic. I had no idea what it was like to get angry and have the ability to level a village in one wave of the hand. I did, however, know far more about killing than any of the others combined. Every decision I'd ever made resulted in someone's death. Sometimes in thousands of deaths, and it never really got easier.

"Take her upstairs," I told Bael. "I'll go check on Rhiannon."

Bael nodded, and scooped Lonnie into his arms. He carried her down the hallway with little effort, looking far more awake than I'd seen him in recent memory.

"If you're going down there, I want to go," Scion demanded.

I glanced at him, and merely nodded. The grand irony of the situation hit me–Lonnie had wanted us to do something together without arguing. Apparently, that was impossible for the time being, yet we agreed on one thing. The most important person in the world was her.