She wanted answers so badly and thought Akadian might have them.
“I am curious how you were able to find it.” He turned his head and looked at her with a curious expression.
“I think it called me,” she told him, remembering what Magnus had said to her.
“Interesting… But that doesn’t fully explain why a First King would take interest. If it’s just a peach tree—what happened when you ate the fruit?”
“I died.”
His eyebrows raised.
“Or, at least I thought I did. I had the strangest dream and woke up in a cell. Next thing I knew I was being brought to trial.” She stifled a yawn as it crept up her throat.
Akadian stayed quiet, lost in a sea of his own thoughts. He truly didn’t know. But she could see the wheels turning inside his head working the pieces out like a puzzle he still didn’t have all the pieces to.
Akadian may not know, but Casimir had to, and he had his sights locked in on her whether she liked it—or understood it. She’d just have to find her answers elsewhere.
“Thank you, for trusting me with your secret.” Akadian smiled at her. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
Ambrose couldn’t say why, but she believed him. Something told her he hated the gods just as much as she did. He’d shared his secrets with her, protected her, fought for her. It’s more than anyone had done her entire life. Even Adym had never stood up for her the way Akadian had.
“Thank you for trusting me with yours. And for saving my life,” she told him genuinely. She’d be dead without him.
“I’d save you in a thousand lifetimes, or until my last day. Whichevercame first, I would always find my way to you,” he said, blue eyes shining in the early morning sun as he stared at her.
Her face flushed. She must have heard him wrong. No way the prince just saidthatto her.
Embarrassed, Ambrose sat up and refilled their wine goblets. She wasnotdrunk enough for this. When both of them were filled, she placed one in Akadian’s hand and sat next to him once more, her senses tingling with his admission. He wasn’t anything like she thought he was. Months ago she hated the sight of him, hated his very existence—even resented Casimir for assigning him to her side, giving her no room for escape. But now…? Now she wasn’t so sure. What she did know was that the being before her was nothing like the rest of the royals. Who knew the prince was… kind?
Ambrose ran her hands over the arachne silk sheets that were leagues softer than the bed she’d spent her life sleeping on. Suddenly the stitching became much more interesting than she’d previously noticed as she kept her eyes trained down.
He gently grabbed her hand and held it firmly in his, his thumb tracing little circles on the back of hers. The scent of campfire and roses wafted up to her. For as long as she lived, she’d never get tired of that scent. She didn’t think she would ever get tired of being this close to him.
“Tell me something nice.” She finally broke the silence.
“I planted a rose bush for you in the garden.”
“What, really?” Her eyes widened as she nervously gulped down the wine in her goblet.
“I noticed how much you like sitting in the garden, so I thought you might like to have your own bush in it,” he replied nervously. The prince of Eltoria wasembarrassed?
“What kind?”
“White miniature roses.”
Little Rose,she realized.
Akadian finished his goblet and then placed both of theirs onto the floor, pulling her down with him as he laid back on the bed. She landed right beside him as exhaustion finally seemed to be winning over the prince. Hiseyes drooped down, fluttering as he tried to keep them open. Her eyes followed the contours of his face and body. His chest rose and fell in an easy pattern that called him to sleep. One of the most powerful beings in the empire was lying next to her, holding her hand delicately and he actually lookedpeaceful. She’d never seen him train and yet his muscles defined him well beneath his dragon leathers. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face as she closed her eyes and let sleep come for her as well—never taking her hand out of his as they both drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 32
Fire rose up on either side of Ambrose. Burnt orange flames that threatened to consume her as she ran through the forest, no longer enchanted by the scenes around her. The garden had none of the Magick she felt before as it died all around her and flames rushed from every direction. Ahead, she could make out the figure of a man robed in crimson holding a small boy, no more than nine, his blond hair matted to his face with sweat and blood as he pleaded for help.
Antony!
His small face was scrunched with fear as tears slipped down his cheeks and he reached out for her. But no matter how hard she ran. How fast she willed her legs to carry her—she couldn’t reach him.
She cried out his name but no sound left her lips as she glared at the crimson-robed mage that held him in his grasp, a dagger to his throat.
