Page 7 of Immortal Origins (Chronicles of the Immortal Trials #1)

B y the time Ambrose made it back to the kitchens to say goodnight and report to Ms. Asquith, the rest of the halls were silent and empty.

The sky outside was dark with stars splayed out for as far as the eye could see.

The moon had come over the horizon, shining brightly throughout court with a quiet radiance.

Most of the servants were back in the dormitories and finished for the day and Ambrose pushed her tired legs, exhausted and eager to join them.

Looking forward to finally getting to rest for the day, she thought of how soft her pillow would be when she got to place her head on it.

The chant ‘almost done’ ringing in her head like a bell.

Ms. Asquith was the only one that remained in the kitchens as she finished the last of the dishes, took stock for inventory, and made sure everything was ready for the next day’s cooking.

The kitchen gleamed like it had never been used and Ms. Asquith hummed to herself a light, satisfied tune.

Ambrose watched her with a smile on her face.

No one was more in their element than Ms. Asquith was at the end of the night when the kitchens were clean.

“Well you just look like death is waiting to welcome you any minute,” the stocky fae noted, her short apron covered in flour and sauces.

Ouch .

But she wasn’t wrong. Ambrose had happened to catch a glimpse of her reflection in one of the mirrors in the grand hallways on the way there and she had looked like death.

Her usual peachy face was pale with dark rings under her eyes, growing darker each day.

Her auburn hair a mess she threw into the only braid she could muster the energy for, which had now become a tangled nest. It was hard to care how she looked when she felt so much worse.

While she was grateful for her training with Adym, between her nights in the forest and her daily duties, she was getting sleep deprived.

“Certainly does a lot for my confidence, thanks.” Ambrose was too tired to have a witty dance with Ms. Asquith tonight.

“Like we need you running around here more bold than you already do.”

The cook had reprimanded her many times in her life, but not once had Ms. Asquith punished her. Ever.

“With the way I feel I don’t think I’m going to be doing any running for a while.” The still healing bruises on her rib cage drummed into a painful throb and she dreamed of sitting in a hot bath and a warm bed.

“I heard what happened in the dining hall,” Ms. Asquith said somberly.

“Why do you insist on trying to bend the rules any way you can? I just don’t understand it.

You make things so much harder on yourself than they need to be.

The royals are fair and easy on you only because of your magick, but what happens when that patience runs out?

They won’t let this continue forever, it sets a poor example. ”

Ambrose appreciated that she was concerned but she would never understand.

She squeezed her throbbing rib cage with one hand and stared at the other. She really hated making the people who loved her worry about her and she hated even more that she couldn’t seem to stop. Something inside her just wouldn’t conform the way everyone else seemed so ready to.

It wasn’t right. Everything felt wrong, the gods and royals had given them everything they had and she couldn’t bring herself to fall in line.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t know why I can’t be grateful. Why I can’t be what everyone else expects me to be. Needs me to be. What I know I’m supposed to be.” She shook her head as though clearing her thoughts. “Do you… Do you ever feel like this isn’t the way things are supposed to be?”

She’d had never said the words out loud before. Never let them escape the furthest corners of her mind but she couldn’t help it. She immediately regretted it.

“Don’t ever say anything like that again,” Ms. Asquith spat carefully.

The fury on her tiny face a completely new expression—and Ambrose had been on the other end of her wrath many times before.

But never was it like this. She was a small woman, only reaching Ambrose’s waist in height, but utterly terrifying.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“Never mind what you meant,” the old fae snapped.

“Never say it again.” Some of the anger left her but it was still emanating off the old cook as she returned to her duties without another word.

When she finished she was calm but sad when she turned to Ambrose and said, “You’re going to get yourself killed one day. ”

Then she was gone.

But the guilt Ambrose felt stayed.

Exhaustion took over as Ambrose slowly made her way back to the dorms. Her conversation with Ms. Asquith replaying over in her head.

Why was it so hard for her to fall in line?

Every time, she was punished or reprimanded but some of the rules made no sense.

Sure, she blatantly broke some but others were so pointless other than to enforce some social hierarchy that was barbaric and inhumane.

For any crime committed—no matter how severe—to be met with punishment of death or life servitude for not only the offender but their entire familial line, was madness.

Mothers and fathers separated from their children.

Ripped apart at birth. Lovers torn apart never to see each other again.

Siblings to never know each other, brothers and sisters who will never meet.

Ambrose and Adym were lucky to be twins and considered one by the empire or she never would’ve known he even existed.

For all she knew, she had other siblings out there that she would never see.

She didn’t even know if her parents were still alive or serving a foreign monarchy day after day.

The crime her ancestor committed irrelevant to the descendants left paying the price.

What kind of gods would create a system like that? The world they created wasn’t just wrong, it was cruel .

Ambrose could never give herself freely to that cruelty the way some seemed to so effortlessly. How anyone could respect the gods or the royals, let alone love them, and love serving them, was something she would never understand. They were evil. And all she felt was hate.

The hallway stretched before her as her heels tapped on the marble floors and the flicker of her candle flame broke the darkness in front of her, stretching the paintings on the wall in distorted ways as she passed them.

Everything was quiet and it was the first moment of peace she’d had all day.

She took a deep breath, determined to enjoy it—

“What do we have here?” An Imperial Guard appeared from the darkness ahead, his armor coming into better view as she reached him with her candlelight.

“Good evening, sir.” Ambrose bowed her head with as much respect as she could muster but her patience was wearing thin.

She just wanted to get to bed. “I’m heading back to the dorms. I finished with my duties and have been relieved for the night.

Now I’m just longing for bed, I’m sure you understand. ”

Gods, she was tired.

“You should be careful being out this late, servant. You never know what dangerous things could be lingering in the dark.” The guard waved a hand at the open windows and the night that extended in every direction beyond them.

Ambrose knew well enough by now to know that the monsters weren’t outside.

She didn’t recognize him. Probably stationed somewhere further in the palace than where she was usually posted or assigned to.

The guard had removed his cape and had it draped over his arm, the signal for his end of duties and that he too had been relieved.

He looked almost as tired and worn as she felt.

It would appear as though neither of them had the best of days.

“Good thing I’m not afraid of the dark,” Ambrose replied, carefully aware of how he watched her. It was as though the walls around her closed in and suddenly became half their size .

“Brave girl,” he smirked. “Why don’t I escort you back. The walk is still quite a ways and I would love the company. "

The guards’ dormitories were nowhere near them.

He was lying.

His smile grew as he stared at her, a sinister twinkle forming in his eye that she couldn’t place, all the while his eyes maintained a cold hunger to them that made her skin crawl.

She scanned the man in front of her. Human.

Definitely Human. But there was no way to know if he was a mage until he started channeling, let alone what kind of Elemental he could be.

He stood a good head taller than her and had a slender but muscular build that she weighed her odds against. Eyes darting around them for anyone else to escort—or save—her from this interaction, she became painfully aware of how empty the hallways were.

They were completely alone.

Guards didn’t usually pick on servants. Some might get annoyed sometimes, but usually they ignored them and kept their attention on their duty.

Rarely did one in the palace ever attack or hurt a servant.

It wasn’t the Imperial Guards’ style. They were there to maintain order, but the Draconian Guard had no queasiness when it came to dealing out pain or punishment.

So what did he want with her?

“Thank you.” She bowed. “But I’m sure you’re exhausted. I couldn’t possibly bother you in such a way—”

“Not a bother at all,” he cut her off, eyes and bared teeth glowing against the candlelight.

Apparently, she had an escort.

Wonderful.

“Thank you, sir. You’re far too kind.” She gave a small curtsy.

“A lady shouldn’t be left alone at this hour. It wouldn’t be safe.” The guard beckoned her forward with a jerk of his chin and an outstretched hand which she politely ignored with what she hoped looked like a shy smile.