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“You make clear decisions. Like, you never even considered letting Lonnie walk out of the vault first. That makes my job easier, because you don’t create ripples of alternative futures the way most do.”

“Alright…why do I feel like that’s not a compliment.”

“It’s neither a compliment nor an insult.” He shrugged. “It just means that unlike Lonnie or Scion, I can actually tell you with almost perfect certainty what your future holds.”

“Enlighten me then,” I grumbled.

“Your reactions are getting slower, as evidenced by the fact that you couldn’t avoid these arrows. You’re not eating anything. You’re fatigued and struggling to use basic magic.”

“What makes you–” I started hotly.

“Why didn’t you dissolve the arrows in thin air?” he asked. “Six months ago, this would not have happened. In six more months you’ll be dead. Likely a lot sooner.”

I heard him, but rather than taking it in, suddenly I was pissed.

Ambrose seemed not only to be as quick tempered and moody as his brother, but he also gave off the impression that he didn’t care about anything except the greater good. For all Scion’s faults, he cared. He cared too much about everyone and everything until he nearly drove himself insane. I wasn’t surewhat Ambrose cared about, but I doubted very much that it was us.

“You’re a prick, you know that?” I barked at him. “Fuck man, work on your delivery. Do you always talk to people like they’re stupid while telling them they’re going to die?”

Ambrose raised an eyebrow. “Would you rather I ignore this as you’ve clearly been doing?”

“Maybe,” I snapped. “It’s none of your concern.”

He pushed off the wall and came to strand directly in front of my bed. “Actually, it is because if you die, then we all die.”

I gritted my teeth and sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. “So it’s the curse?”

He nodded. “When did this start?”

“Right before Lonnie left us in that inn a few weeks ago.”

He nodded, as if he’d already known that—or at least guessed. “What happened to trigger it?”

“I don’t know,” I said angrily. A slight burn scalded my throat and I coughed, before correcting: “I don’t know for certain.”

“What do you suspect, then?”

“I was…happy,” I said, pained. “I didn’t think it would happen. I haven’t completed the mate bond because I know that would be too much.”

He cocked his head to the side curiously. “Evidently that’s not the only danger.”

“I’ve done nearly everything right,” I burst out bitterly. “Scion sealed his fucking mate bond and didn’t even know it. How is this different?”

“Scion is constantly haunted by the years he spent in Aftermath. He loves Lonnie, but views the actual mating as more of a duty to her and the country than a gift he never expected to get to have. I don’t know if he’ll ever be truly happy, but if so, I doubt it would be caused by the bonding alone.”

“That makes no sense,” I snapped. “We were always told we couldn’t mate or it would kill all of us.”

“We were always told we couldn’t mate because it might make us happy,” Ambrose corrected. “It seems to me that the completion of the bond isn’t the barrier to your true happiness. You love Lonnie, and Scion is your only friend—practically a brother. You’re happy when all three of you are safe.”

I sighed, feeling defeated. “So I’m killing us.”

“Yes,” he replied. “I think so. I’d always imagined it would be more immediate, rather than a gradual thing, but I don’t think there’s any doubt as to why you’ve been so ill. You saw them when you were hurt. Once you die, they’ll both follow soon after.”

“And you.” I looked up at him sharply. “This will affect you too.”

“Yes,” Ambrose sighed, “but fortunately I’m not all that worried about it.”

I laughed hollowly. “Why? You don’t seem suicidal to me.”