Chapter 8: Not So Bad

  After they left the Peddler’s Shack, Jessica took Ambrose out to dinner.

  “It’s the least I could do,” she said as they skipped out Meli’s Place for something a little classier. “I may not get a high allowance, but I can basically eat anywhere and it’s covered.” They stopped in front of a restaurant for the upper crust called Feasts and Fetes by Franklin.

  Jealousy stabbed at him briefly. Up until about five years ago, he could’ve said the same. The Adams had been swirling the drain for twenty years now. Ambrose knew that he had just barely missed out on all the perks and indulgences of his legacy, but he was born just in time to have to take on the debt of all the family’s sins.

  “I won’t say no to a good meal,” he said, forcing a smile. “But if it’s on you, I’m going big. After months of the slop they serve, I yearn for something richer.”

  Jessica just rolled her eyes and tugged on his arm.

  They went inside, and were seated by a young man wearing clothes nice enough that Ambrose wasn’t sure he’d be able to afford them, if he had to get anything new. The cost of Jessica’s cards stung more than he thought it would, but maybe if he helped her score well, Vanderborn would take pity on him, even if he didn’t place first. It was a long shot, but it comforted him.

  Jessica ordered them wine and oysters to start, and Ambrose found himself getting loose by the third glass. And if he was tipsy, his tiny friend was flat-out drunk by the time their roasted pheasant came out, served atop a platter of sauteed vegetables and fragrant herbs.

  “I can’t believe I’m going to try to switch up my cards and strategy like, four days before exams,” Jessica said about two notches too loud. Their neighbors looked at them with irritation, but said nothing. “Me! Can you believe it?”

  Ambrose shook his head, chuckling in amusement. “It’s better than being too rigid. You get too predictable, and literally everyone will be able to take you. If we can practice in private, we might want to. You know, keep it all a surprise for the round robin duels.”

  Her eyes lit up and she slapped the table enthusiastically. “That’s such a good idea. Honestly, I’m always so surprised by you, Amby-Lamb. You’re not the strongest, or the smartest, or -- “

  “Is this going to lead somewhere less insulting?” Ambrose said, taking a bite of the bird between them.

  “Sorry, sorry,” she said, smiling sheepishly. “I mean…We have some impressive, scary wizards in our class. But you’re consistently in the top half, and usually in the top three. And as far as I can tell, you haven’t specialized. There’s so many directions you can go, you know? And I’ve got no clue which one it’ll be. Maybe demons, eventually?”

  Normally, Ambrose would’ve made a disarming joke, maybe even redirected the conversation back to her. But the wine warmed him from the inside out, and the company was better than he’d had in weeks. It was nice, he reflected, spending time with someone who didn’t hate him.

  “I don’t quite know,” he said. “I do have a lot of options. But none of them seem better than the rest. I have everything I need to fight other wizards, but I have plenty of gaps and weaknesses against beasts and especially skilled and powerful warriors. I guess I’m keeping my mind and eyes open for opportunities. Adaptability is one of the most important things. I still have two slots in my deck, and I am not quite sure what to fill them with. Other than the Wildcard I’m going to win, of course.”

  Jessica twitched at the mention of it again. A smile spread before she pushed it down. “Unless I beat you with these new cards. Wouldn’t that be funny?”

  “Hilarious,” said Ambrose, finishing his glass of wine. “So hilarious it might actually prevent me from coming back next year.”

  She froze. “What do you mean?”

  Immediately, he knew he made a mistake. He laughed and waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it. Should we get more wine, or do I need to cut you off?”

  The rest of the meal, Jessica gushed over the differences that swapping out two cards would make, as well as possible strategies to try. Ambrose was more than content to keep the attention on her, drinking only one more glass before he was satisfied and cut himself off.

  True to her word, the meal was billed to the Vanderborn family’s account, and they left the restaurant soon after. She wasn’t smashed, but she leaned against Ambrose for support. They took their time getting back to the school.

  “I still don’t get why you’re being so nice to me,” she said after walking in silence for a couple minutes. “Fifty crowns isn’t something you just give away. Even to a friend.” She craned her head to look up at him.

  Ambrose shrugged as best as he could while helping her walk straight. “Oh, you know. Just buttering you up into giving me a favor worth fifty crowns.”

  “Oh.”

  He rolled his eyes and said, “No, not really. You’re the only one here I like. Not everyone hates me, but no one trusts me or likes me. And maybe that’s partially my fault, but they were never going to trust me. Others can burn people alive, or summon beasts big enough to destroy entire villages, but somehow working with death magic and demons makes me unclean. You’re one of maybe ten people in a school of nearly eighty people who doesn’t treat me like a leper. Maybe that matters to me.”

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  Jessica made a distressed sound, but said nothing for another minute or so as they made their way through the village and toward the school itself. As a Vanderborn, she lived on the campus, in an extensive, cozy suite that Ambrose would happily admit to wanting for himself.

  They were almost there when she pulled away and braced herself against the hallway wall. “You know, you’re really not so bad, when you’re not trying to make people hate you. You could turn things around, you know. I’d be willing to help you with the others, if you could play nice.”

  Ambrose stroked his chin as he pretended to think about it. “Mmm. Pass. But honestly, thank you. I’m not worried about making friends. I want to be the best, and I can do it following my own path.”

  She nodded slowly. “There has to be something I can do to thank you, though. Something more than just buying you a nice dinner.”

  This was it. Here was his chance to get closer to his objective. All he had to do was take advantage of a friend and abuse her trust. It was the perfect setup, and he hadn’t even planned it.

  But was it worth it, to betray the only real friend he had?

  “There’s actually something you might be able to do…” Ambrose said, looking past her to the dim hallways, barely lit up by glowing magical lights at night. “But I’m not sure you could really do it. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with your grandfather.”

  It was the perfect thing to say. “Why? What do you have in mind?” asked Jessica in a perfect mix of wary and intrigued.

  “You can get into his office, right? Being family.”

  “I can, but…Why? What is it you want?”

  As always, Ambrose stuck as close as he could to the truth. “I’ve always wanted to see the floating garden. I’ve seen it through the doors of his office, but it would be nice to take a good look around and see its splendor for myself, you know?”

  Her dark eyes screwed up in confusion. “Since when have you ever cared about gardens?”

  His jaw set, and he looked away. There was no one else there in the hallway, no one to overhear or bother them, but paranoia set in. In his chest, his heart skipped every third beat. He wouldn’t get another chance at this.

  “My family is… losing everything,” he said. “And I do mean everything. My father mentioned selling my cards to keep us afloat a little longer. And at my home, we’ve taken to cutting out unnecessary expenses. My mother used to keep our garden vibrant and beautiful, but now…It’s cheaper to maintain a garden of sand and stone. It’s not bad, but it isn’t the same.”

  Jessica’s jaw dropped, and Ambrose winced at the pity on her face. Revealing that, even if the last part was half a lie, hurt.

  “Oh Ambrose…No wonder you’re an ass to everyone. Oh no. That’s what you meant by not coming here next year…”

  “Yeah…”

  She shook her head. After a brief, internal battle, she straightened up. “If I do this, you can’t tell anyone, okay? Grandfather can’t ever know.”

  Ambrose held up his right hand. “I vow, on my black and bitter heart, that I have no intention of telling anyone anything. It’s no one’s business but ours.”

  “Then…Let’s go see the garden.”

  Hiding his eagerness was the hardest part, but the tiny voice in the back of his head calling him scum helped dampen things. It wasn’t often that Ambrose felt any remorse for his actions, but this was one of them. The closer they got, the more that voice chewed him out for every sin he’d ever committed. The voice, funny enough, sounded a lot like Raeva when she got into one of her angry rants.

  The thick, enchanted wooden door opened immediately at Jessica’s touch. “Don’t touch anything, okay?” she pleaded.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he lied. It had briefly occurred to him that if he could distract her, then maybe a quick look around the room would at least tell him where the Wildcards were, for his real attempt.

  The office was a lot more menacing at night, with only a few soft lights keeping it from oppressive darkness. However, through the double glass doors, the garden was well lit and Jessica practically skipped to open them.

  “Do you automatically bypass every ward your grandfather has on this place?” Ambrose asked.

  “Not all of them, but the ones on the doors, sure. I’m expected to run certain errands every so often for him and the staff, when he’s away. If he checks the wards, I’m sure that’s what it will look like.” She looked nervous for a second, but the wine drove her forward.

  Even if his reasoning was bullshit, Ambrose had to admit that the floating garden really was an impressive sight. It was almost like a park, with plants of all kinds ringing the land mass in neat, orderly patches of roses and daffodils, snapdragons and azaleas. A path of clovers split up perfectly even, well kept grass on the way to a great rectangle made of stone, where Vanderborn parked his flying ship. Trees lined the path, and a soft orange glow came from more magelights hanging in the branches.

  “Gods,” Ambrose breathed, not having to fake his awe. He took a few steps forward, mindful of the clovers that seemed to bounce back as soon as his feet left them. “I bet he comes out here whenever he’s tired of dealing with the rest of the staff. But isn’t it dangerous?”

  Jessica came up beside him, resting a hand on his arm as she still swayed a little. “How do you mean?”

  He looked around, noting the size of the island, and the lack of walls or fences or anything along the edges. Even at the spot where the island met the tower, Ambrose saw a clear path down the stone walls, away from windows and prying eyes.

  “Well, I know that there’s an anti-flying ward that keeps out dragons, sphinxes, and other airborne threats. But it seems so open and easy to just…what if a battalion of powerful wizards tried to attack the school again? Couldn’t they potentially throw enough destructive magic at the garden to make it fall and collapse part of the school?”

  “No, I don’t think so. It’s heavily warded against damage, and if it were to fall, it would do so slowly, and veer away from the school.” Jessica seemed excited again. As complicated as her relationship with her family was, there was an honest pride and adoration in what they accomplished that shone bright. “And if anyone tried to get up here, they’d also have to deal with the more dangerous plants themselves, or the weather ward that would probably send them crashing to their deaths. Grandfather has a lot of powerful, interconnecting Rituals he’s performed.”

  Rather than be discouraged, Ambrose made a note of everything she said, more and more convinced that it was the right path to take. He wasn’t afraid of dangerous plants, and there were ways to circumvent gusts of wind. It all depended on just how good his [Spider’s Ascent] card was. Everything else, including the door…

  Well, he knew a few people, and they knew a few people. He was down to only a handful of crowns left, but he had plenty of cards he could offload or trade to get what he needed. And more importantly, Vanderborn had promised him an artifact from the workshop, if he put some time in.

  “Thank you,” said Ambrose, turning a broad smile to Jessica. “This is better than I could’ve dreamed.”

  “Hey,” she said, “Anything for a friend.”