The Beginning
Azkadellia wasn't sure exactly when it started. She knew it was around the same time that DG started being distant because of that stupid marriage proposal. For sure it was sometime around then that she just…started talking to him. He was easy to talk to. Best of all, if she did bring up something that happened in the past, he would let her tell him what was on her mind, and then he would take both of her hands between his and say very calmly and sincerely, "That wasn't you. It was the witch."
His sincerity and willingness to listen to her was what put him ahead of her mother and father and, yes, even DG. Unfortunately, DG held too much personal guilt to listen to Dellia reminisce about her past crimes against Ozmanity. DG would cry and hug her and say, "Oh, it's all my fault," which Dellia never found to be very helpful or cathartic.
In the end, Dellia was sure that if she hadn't started turning to him, he never would have told her about the damned letter. The letter, however, marked the first time he sought her out instead of her going to him.
"Princess?" he had said, knocking lightly on her opened study door and poking his head in a bit timidly.
"Ambrose, come in," she replied, surprised and absurdly pleased. "What is it? Is everything all right? You seem troubled." She didn't know why, but she wanted to smile hugely at him.
Ambrose gulped, his dimples thinning out as he frowned. "I seem to be…well, I'm afraid that I'm about to break the law."
Dellia smiled wickedly. "Break the law? You, Ambrose dear?"
His cheeks reddened. "I cannot…conscionably allow this to happen without telling anyone. And I know you will know best what to do."
The compliment did not prepare her for how angry she would become.
"Where is the original letter?" she demanded when he showed her the response. "I insist on seeing what this idiot prince is expecting of my sister!"
The idiot prince. She remembered him well. His brother, Jorel, had been pompous and slightly arrogant, but nothing compared to the younger prince. Still in his twenties, Prince Janus had been simpering, phlegmatic, and downright abusive, though the latter was only to his staff. Azkadellia had been privy to all of The Witch's deepest desires and ambitions, and she had become pitch perfect at finding similar negatives in others. Prince Janus had been a very, very small, narrow man who had big dreams of ruling a country some day. Apparently he had set his sights on the OZ. He wasn't about to get it. Not if she had anything to say about it.
Ambrose brought her the letter, which she roughly ripped from his hand, an action that would make her flush and hide her face when she remembered later. The original date had corresponded with the time that DG had began pulling away from her, but she suddenly realized that there was another absence from the castle lately. Their usual family circle had dropped by one in the past weeks, and she suddenly knew that something much bigger was happening than she realized.
"Ambrose, when was Wyatt Cain last here? To see DG, that is?"
"Perhaps three weeks? Why?"
She laid the letters on her desk. "I have an idea. Hear me out: DG gets this ridiculous letter of engagement from that ninny Janus, and immediately afterwards stops wishing to see one of her closest friends?"
"Raw hasn't been here very often recently either. They have both been quite busy of late, however, with the hiring of Tin Men and overhauling the Judicial system with you and the queen. Really, you've probably had more chances to see both of them than DG has."
"So, Raw is a Seer, and Wyatt is…what to DG? Her friend, certainly, but do you ever suspect more?" She raised an eyebrow.
He looked down. "Do you mean perhaps they have formed a romantic attachment?"
Azkadellia could not help but notice his blush, and she wondered at what it meant, but she found she could not dwell on that just now. Not when DG's happiness was at stake. "One can only hope. Did she give you any reason for accepting this proposal?"
"Well, she said it would be for the good of the OZ. She said a marriage to another ruling family from a neighboring kingdom would bring stability to the country. I did suggest that she could wait a few more years before marriage became a necessity, but she seemed resolute." He took a breath. "I am sorry, Azkadellia, but I am curious why you think DG may have formed an attachment to Wyatt simply because she has not seen him for three weeks, but you do not suspect Raw. It is true that interspecies marriage is frowned upon, but—"
Her look shut him up. "I suspect Wyatt over Raw because I can see a simple reason for her avoiding Raw: he can read emotions and she does not wish to lay herself so bare. But Wyatt? There is no reason that she should not wish to see him unless she has formed an attachment." She decided it was best to leave out her uncanny ability to feel certain things from her sister, and she had been aware of something in that direction for quite some time. It was proof of DG's power that she had managed to hide the rest of it for so long. The strain must have been incredible. Dellia worried that her sister might be falling apart at the seams.
"I can think of a myriad of reasons why DG would not wish to see Wyatt, but I still do not see how you reach your conclusion."
"I'm a woman, Ambrose."
"I've noticed," he said quietly.
She shot him another look and he tried to smile, his dimples flashing adorably. She was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to kiss those little puckers of skin. Suddenly, it all became clear. She knew that DG was in love with Wyatt because she felt…something?...for Ambrose, and she knew she couldn't tell him.
All of the evil things she had done for The Witch flooded upon her at that moment, and she realized that she wasn't fit to lick Ambrose's boots.
Oh, and then Great and Terrible, there were the things she had done to him. First there was the torture to extract the Sun Seeder diagram, and then the ultimate removal of his brain and exile of his person because he was such a good man that he would never willingly, even under the threat of eternal torment, give up the information.
And just like that, she knew exactly what DG was going through, because DG blamed herself for everything that happened in the same way that Dellia did. There was guilt there, deep guilt for both of them, and Dellia wasn't sure if she could ever forgive herself and she felt sure that she could never approach Ambrose with such a huge stain on her soul. What must DG feel? She blamed herself for starting it all.
But she wasn't going to let her little sister throw herself away. DG had to get married, it was true. She would be queen and the OZ needed an heir. But why should she marry the idiot prince Janus when Wyatt was there, always there. He smiled at her in that way…that way that Ambrose always smiled at Dellia.
Oh Good and Powerful, he did. Ambrose smiled at her…the way Wyatt smiled at DG…
Dellia looked up at Ambrose sharply, feeling so many emotions, and surprisingly, anger was one of them.
How dare he love her after all she'd done to him? He had no right. No right at all. He should hate her.
"Princess, are you all right? You look a little pale."
He walked towards her, and she felt the panic rise up. DG called it a panic attack, and that was exactly what it felt like. She had been plagued by them off and on since DG had saved her, and somehow Ambrose had always managed to talk her through them.
Hot tears pricked at her eyes as she fell back into her chair, gasping for breath. Ambrose knelt before her and took her hands between his.
"Look at me," he said quietly.
She focused on his beautifully arched brows and deep brown eyes as she tried to breathe normally.
Calm. She could handle this. It was nothing.
Calm. DG. She had to focus on her sister.
Calm. She needed her mother and father.
"Mother," she gasped.
"I'll send someone for her, but I won't leave you," he said as he stood and went to the door.
When he came back, the vice was almost gone from her chest.
Calm. Everything was going to be all right.
Calm. It was all in her head.
"Here's some water," he said, handing her a glass. "I know you can hold the glass."
Her hands shook, but he was right; she could hold it. He still helped guide it to her lips, his hand warm and strong over hers.
The queen and Ahamo then burst into the chamber with a slight amount of bustle. Lavender ordered Dellia be taken to the lounger to lie down, and Ahamo helped her up.
"I gotcha, baby," he whispered, and she was absurdly reassured at once.
"What happened?" Lavender asked Ambrose.
He looked uncomfortable. "Well, we were just talking about this proposal that DG accepted and the princess suddenly—"
"Proposal!" both parents exclaimed almost at once.
"Perhaps I should start more at the beginning."
Ambrose had told his story, and they had confronted DG who resisted them and seemed less than thrilled by their interference. Little by little, Azkadellia had gotten her equilibrium back. Eventually, she sent for Wyatt and he helped DG see the light.
And so, Azkadellia could just walk away and continue her life. DG was now more open, and though Wyatt made sure he came by to romance her almost every day, he still had plenty of work to do elsewhere leaving DG to Azkadellia for her usual companionship again.
But, for whatever reason, Azkadellia found herself back in Ambrose's office at the same time she usually found herself there, in the same chair that she usually took, and looking out the same window that she usually looked out of. Only today, it was in order to keep from staring at him.
He really was very nice looking. Maybe he wasn't as blatantly masculine as Wyatt, though she knew he could handle himself in a fight if he absolutely had to. There was something in his quiet intellect and his soft brown eyes, though that she found more intriguing than Wyatt's grit. And Wyatt might look fine in his Tin Man clothes, but she found Ambrose to look so very nice in his military cut jackets and highly polished lace-ups.
"Princess, if I may offer an observation, you don't seem quite yourself today," he said quietly.
She still couldn't look at him. "I'm sorry, Ambrose, but I'm a bit preoccupied today. Maybe I should leave you in peace."
"Your presence does not bother me in the least. In fact, I have gotten on much better with my calculations since you entered."
She spared herself a look at him then. The late afternoon sun shining through the window warmed his skin and glinted off of the few silver strands that littered his dark curls here and there. He wore his dark blue jacket with the severe cut, high neck and the minimalist line of silver buttons down the front. Only his medaled sash hinted at his importance to the kingdom. If her mother required his services, he had a mantle close by that he would clip around his shoulders and a sword belt hung near the door, complete with a ceremonial, albeit fully functional, sword attached. There was something so comforting about knowing that he could work out complex quantum linear systems and also behead a man. Probably simultaneously.
"Ambrose, I'm very sorry for how angry I was at you yesterday. You did not deserve it. You were actually amazing. I don't know how we could have averted that crisis without you."
He looked up from his diagram—it looked like it might be a new algorithm for the view-screens, which DG always said looked grainy—and smiled slightly. Ooh, those dimples! "Thank you, Azkadellia. I am still amazed at how well you handled everything, particularly in regards to Mr. Cain. I did not perceive any anger from you."
"You still don't believe that I knew about his feelings for DG, do you?"
He lifted his hands as if in surrender. "I believe that you knew; what I marvel at is your intuition. I would never have come to such a conclusion based solely on the evidence you had. But then, intuition is not evidence. Nor is it always logical."
"Sometimes, intuition can be as important as evidence," she answered, turning back to the window. There was snow on the mountains. Fall was coming, and Dellia thought about hot apple cider by the fire at Finaqua as she listened to the scratch of Ambrose's pencil.
"The equinox is nearly upon us," he observed aloud. "I believe Wyatt hopes to have a fully functioning Tin Man crew together by then so that we can have our usual celebrations."
"Mother and I have been redrafting and modifying Judicial law every morning with the Home Secretary. He has been nearly kind to me these last few weeks. We are almost done."
The scratching stopped. "Why would he not be kind to you?"
"None of the secretaries are. The Secretary of defense is downright hostile, and DG has a mind to replace her soon if she does not buck up, but I doubt she will. She has her reasons. She had to live in the Hinterlands thanks to me."
Ambrose stood from his chair and walked around his desk until he was standing directly in front of her, forcing her to look up at him.
"The Witch, Azkadellia. Thanks to The Witch. Not thanks to you."
Dellia tried to smile, but she simply could not. If Ambrose, who had been tortured and then robbed of his brain was able to forgive her, then why was Fridaliesel, who had merely been exiled with all of her family in a very comfortable, albeit small, shack in the Hinterlands not able to forgive her? What did she have to do? Bleed? Die?
She had a feeling it was the latter.
And then, Ambrose took her hand and pulled her up until she was flush against him. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her tight. In shock, Dellia stood motionless for a moment, but then she lifted her arms and pressed her hands to his back and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder.
Oh, it was so nice. His body was warm and solid and then he began to slowly stroke his hand over her hair. Dellia closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of him. She wanted to stay like this forever, to never move away from the warm, safe circle of his arms.
Impulsively, before she did anything stupid, Dellia leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Ambrose," she whispered, and then ran out the door like a scared little rabbit to the safety of her room.