"Anytime," He watches me eat. I have quickly learned, he will watch me eat if there's nothing in my food, and he won't if there is. It's how I keep myself from being drugged. I have a feeling he's either doing it on purpose, or he's catching on. "Are you sure you don't want to hear my price?"
The porridge tastes like cream of wheat but more texture and slightly more butter. "You're going to tell me anyway."
"Come on now, pretty Ione, are you so bored of me?"
"Yes."
"Rude," He sighs. "I'll tell you and let you decide." He waits for me to look at him. "A kiss."
"Sure," I stand up and place one on his forehead. "You never said what kind, now let me out." I'm going stir crazy in here. There's also a delusional side of me that thinks I can start hatching a plan to getaway.
"You didn't let me finish." Sometimes, I can tell when he's getting upset. His voice lowers, his eyes go from bright and happy to dark and brooding. he starts 'playing' with his magic more, as if summoning small birds made of ice, or leaves made of fire will help him calm down. "A real one."
He's been playing this game. I don't care for it.Especially because I know who makes me feel good and I'm willing to bet this bitch has one dick.
"No." I say, already done with this game. He keeps playing it, circling me like some bored cat waiting for the mouse to break. Rabbit.
But the thing about rabbits? We bite.
"Listen," He props his head on his closed fist. "One kiss, and I will take you on a tour and let you outside. We can walk the beach, I promise," He holdup his finger silencing me. "Plus, I will not keep you caged to this room. You can leave when you want. How about it?"
How long am I going to be here?I can't spend an eternity here, I say in my mental Fiona Goodes voice. “One kiss and nothing more?”
“Scout’s honor,” he smirks, holding up his first three fingers.
I lean in, lips barely brushing his. It's brief. I mean for it to be meaningless. Then he makes a happy moan sound, and drags me in. His lips press hard to mine, moving over them and the bastard flicks his tongue against my mouth. "Ambrose!" I pull away and he chuckles.
"You were trying to be cheap, I said nothing more and we kissed. Done? Let's take a tour."
The castle isn’t what I expected.
He shows me the kitchen first. It’s small, almost cozy—like someone’s enchanted cottage dream brought to life. Copper pans hang from the walls, dried herbs dangle from beams, and a window above the sink opens to the sea. It smells like rosemary, fresh baked bread and vanilla.
Then his alchemy room, stacked with books and shimmering stones. The potions room comes next—everything is color-coded, obsessively labeled. He's yapping on and on about some process he's doing now for transfiguration, and I'm looking at the bottles.
My eyes catch one in particular.Locator.I say nothing, but Inoteit.
The menagerie is next. He’s got Tasmanian tigers.A whole damn family.They lounge in a warm stone pen, completely unbothered.
“Brought them back from extinction,” he says casually. “You know. As one does.”
And then the garden. Lush, vibrant, and too alive for someone like him. It smells like peppermint and sweet orange. Somehow, that makes me angrier.
We return inside, and he insists on making lunch.
He cooks while talking, and I sit across from him, watching.
“My sisters,” he starts, “used to practice magic in the fields behind our house. They were born to it. Herbal witches, all of them. Kind, clever. Everything I know about potions, I learned watching them.”
“You weren’t supposed to have magic,” I say softly. “Not the kind you use now.”
He doesn’t look up as he stirs the soup. “Chronomir would say that,” he answers. “In fact, he did. Right after Itrappedhim.” He sets the soup and sandwich in front of me like we’re friends, like none of this is a prison. “Don’t look so surprised.”
After we eat, he opens the door. “Come walk with me.”
The beach is beautiful. Tropical, maybe. The sand is pale and soft, the waves impossibly clear. But I can’t place where we are. I try—scanning the horizon, the vegetation. Mediterranean? Caribbean? Pacific?Nowhere.Everywhere.
I gather seashells in silence for some time, Ambrose reaches for my hand, taking them from me. Holding onto them as I scan the beach for more. “Where are we?” I ask.
