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I suddenly had a castle to live in, tasks to keep me busy, and two mates who clearly loved me. Things had been boring in a way that I desperately craved. And I couldn’t bring myself to ruin it. I couldn’t leave again, and I could ask too many questions of Bael in case he left instead.

Now, I supposed, it didn’t matter. It had happened anyway. Bael was gone, I was running for my life again, and nothing was safe or comfortable or boring.

I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt the tears dripping down my chin and onto my neck, and by then it was too late. I couldn’t force myself to stop.

“Lonnie?”

I heard my name called down the hall, and shut my eyes. I recognized Ambrose’s voice immediately, and wished I hadn’t.

“I’m fine,” I called back, my voice trembling and obviously distressed. “I’ll come out in a minute.”

Of course, he didn’t listen.

I’d left the door open, and within seconds Ambrose appeared on the threshold looking a bit frantic.

Like all of us, he was still wearing his outfit from the coronation, although he’d abandoned his blue silk jacket at some point andnow wore only the matching silk trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose his tattoos. His long silver hair was no longer loose and shiny, but pulled back in a haphazard braid.

For a moment, he didn’t seem to see me sitting on the floor. He turned his head to the right, finally and spotted me on the floor. I watched his face change too quickly to understand every emotion there. Watched his eyes dart over me wrapped only in a towel and widen just a fraction before he frowned with concern. Darting over, he bent down and knelt in front of me. “What’s wrong, love?”

My chest shook, making it impossible to get the words out and instead I nudged Bael’s letter toward him with my foot. He glanced at it, his eyes moving quickly, reading it far faster than I had.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment.

I sniffed, getting my breathing under control, and finally looked up at him. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because I told him to go.” He furrowed his brow, looking almost angry with himself.

“You did?”

He nodded. “I wasn’t kind about it, either. Bael probably despises me now, but it had to be like that. He needed to leave, or I’m sure he wouldn’t have lived another week.”

I blinked at him, imagining that conversation. Picturing him being the sort of asshole that everyone expected him to be, all in service of the greater good.

It was probably always like that for him. Always having to play a role. Never able to get close to people because he knew exactly how it would end. He must have lived a very lonely life.

Without thinking or planning to do it. Without considering his reaction, and certainly without remembering I wore nothing but a towel, I surged forward and wrapped my arms around his neck. Ambrose went completely stiff, as if I were hugging solid stone, but I didn’t care.

“Thank you,” I muttered into his shoulder. “Thank you for doing that for me.”

He just sat there for a long second, neither pushing me away nor raising his arms to hug me back.

With my face pressed into his chest I could hear his heart beating, and noticed when it sped up though he didn’t say or do anything to make that reaction make sense. I pulled back slightly and stared at him.

He was looking at me with a kind of intense fire in his coal-black eyes. A hunger that nearly took my breath away, as well as an uncertainty that held me at arms reach. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch me like this. Or maybe, more accurately, like he wasn’t sure what might happen to us if he did.

Remembering my promise to myself down in the vaults, I pushed up onto my knees. Like this, both kneeling, we were closer in height than we would have been on foot. I didn’t have to stretch to reach him, or tilt my head all the way back to meet his eyes.

I inched closer until our faces were so close we were breathing the same air.

Ambrose had to know what was going through my head. He could have leaned forward and closed the small distance between our lips, but he didn’t. Instead, he studied my face the same way I was studying his, and seemed to hold his breath, waiting.

I closed the last of that distance and kissed him, softly at first. Tentatively.

Ambrose didn’t move, just sitting there frozen. There was only the memory of our last kiss, and the frantic sound of his heart that made me think he might want this. Want me.

When he continued to just sit there, I began to pull back, but then his hand shot out to stop me. He cradled the back of my head, tugging me closer and balling his fist into my hair.

A shiver of pleasure ran through my body when he parted my lips with his tongue. I opened for him, gasping into his mouth. His hand stayed in my hair while the other gripped my waist, tugging me closer until I could feel every muscle of his sculpted chest pressed against me.