Moireth’s voice rings in my memory:The mages were greedy. They all wanted power.
So this checks out.
Ambrose's fingers pause their motion. “The others,” he murmurs, “my companions… they all reached, stretched too far, too fast. They were strong, but not like me.”
He says it without pride, like a fact—one he’s measured and tested and has come to believe without question.
“They fell,” he says. “All of them. Died trying to elevate themselves. I’ve been more careful.”
I swallow. My skin prickles under his touch. “What power is it, exactly, that you want?”
There's a pause.
Then, so quiet I barely hear him: “The power to ascend beyond this form.”
His lips brush the back of my neck. “Sleep,” he whispers.
And just like that, it pulls at me—thick, irresistible. I want to fight it, ask more, demand answers. But I can't. The weight of his voice, his presence, presses down on me like a spell.
And then I was out.
Chapter thirty-five
Taking Hold
Ione
Hehastostopdoing that spell shit. I didn't dream. Just blackness and then I woke up in bed, alone. The door is open, the smell of food wafts from downstairs and I remember that Ambrose said I could wander.
"There's no need to go back into the other room, all of your belongings are in this one." His voice bounces around the room though he's not in it.
"Whoa," I look around. "Can you see me?"
"You're cute," Ambrose chuckles without answering me. "Get cleaned up and dressed and come eat."
"Sure thing, boss." I roll my eyes, because I was going to do that anyway.
Making my way downstairs, I make sure to count exactly how many there are. What turns take me to the kitchen, and which would take me back to the potion room. How am I supposed to get in contact with Athanasius and the old woman again? She said it might work, but she needed to see it. In a pale yellow sundress, I walk into the kitchen and Ambrose is setting French toast on our plates wearing a shirt of the same color.
"Twins!" He claps his hands.
"There was a choice of two," I shake my head. "You had a 50% chance of getting it right."
"Doesn't matter," He sits down, smiling gleefully. "Still twins."
The food looks amazing, then something turns sour in my mouth as I remember the breakfast Athy made for me. His runny eggs, lopsided pancakes. I don't mean to start crying. I can't help it. I miss my sister, I haven't seen my niece in so long, I miss Athanasius. His touch, his smell, the way hegrowled and called me rabbit. The feeling of his arms comes rushing back to my mind, and I cover my face as tears begin to stream down.
"Ione." Ambrose clucks his tongue, and reaches across the table, patting my shoulder. "Don't cry, cutie, what's wrong?"
Sniffling, I look up at him. "What's wrong? You stabbed me—"
"Not this again," He sighs. "I apologized."
"You! Stabbed! Me!" Wiping my eyes, trying to stop the tears from coming doesn't help. "I miss my family. My life. Athanasius!"
Ambrose doesn't care. I know he doesn't, but he puts up a front and moves to sit next to me on the bench in his small kitchen, rubbing my shoulders. "Ione, adjustments will take time. I know it's hard right now, trust me."
"I have no reason to trust you." Snatching a napkin from the table, I wipe my face. "I'm your captive remember?"
