Flames left behind

5{The Inquirer} Ronin's POV

The moon dangled in the night sky like a gleaming silver coin, bathing the old archives in an otherworldly light as it stood out in the darkness. Within its sturdy stone walls, a chamber lay in wait, its only illumination the flickering torches that sent shadows crawling over the chilly floor. At the chamber's center, a table hosted two people, their eyes fixed in a fierce and silent confrontation.

Ambrosia and the Inquirer.

On one side sat Ambrosia, the young vampire not even a century old, her auburn hair cascading in waves around her delicate features. Though her appearance was serene, her eyes flashed with defiance as she met the scrutinizing stare of the other occupant of the room. I found that to be a very attractive feature on her. I'll add it to the list.

Opposite her sat the Inquirer, a stern and imposing figure clad in regal attire befitting his title. His piercing blue eyes bore into her with an unwavering intensity, his lips curled in a contemptuous sneer.

"Youngling," he began, his voice dripping with disdain, "do you understand the gravity of this evaluation? You are here to prove yourself worthy of your bloodline, yet you comport yourself as if this were a mere inconvenience."

Ambrosia's jaw clenched, but she refused to cower under his scrutiny and smiled. What a pretty smile. "And you, sir, comport yourself as if the very title you bear grants you superiority over all. But titles mean nothing without merit."

A flicker of annoyance crossed his features, but he quickly masked it with a haughty smirk. "Ah, defiance. How quaint. But do not mistake insolence for strength, child. Your bloodline is renowned for its power, yet I see only arrogance in your demeanor."

I watched closely as her nails dug into the armrest of her chair as she fought to maintain her composure. "And I see only arrogance in yours, sir. Your reputation precedes you, but it seems even legends can be tainted by hubris."

He leaned forward, his icy gaze narrowing. "You tread on dangerous ground, child. Remember your place."

An amusing laugh escaped Ambrosias lips, and even she seemed surprised by it. "My place? Amongst the ranks of those who value strength over empty titles, perhaps. But certainly not beneath an arrogant man with a stick up his ass."

The tension crackled between them like lightning in the air, each word a verbal blade poised for the strike. But before the Inquirer could retort, a voice echoed through the chamber, cutting through the hostility like a knife through butter.

"Enough!"

Both of them turned to see Ivrolos standing in the doorway, his presence commanding respect despite his young age. Beside him stood the Seelie Queen, who's eyes, for the life of her, would not stop trailing across my body.

"Ambrosia," Ivrolos said, his voice a low rumble that brooked no argument, "your behavior is unacceptable. This evaluation is not a stage for petty insults and childish squabbles. It is a test of your character and your bloodline."

The Seelie Queen looked amused, and the Inquirer inclined his head in deference, though the disdain still lingered in his gaze.

Ambrosia offered a curt nod of acknowledgment, though her eyes remained defiant. "Whatever you say Ivrolos."

Her eyes crossed paths with mine, though she did not seem to notice who I was, and skimmed past me. All of those months for nothing.

Ivrolos softened his gaze slightly as he regarded everyone in the room. "Very well. Let us proceed with the evaluation. Ambrosia, are you ready?"

With a silent nod, she rose from her seat and approached the inquirer, her steps measured and confident. I watched her with a mixture of skepticism and begrudging admiration, my heart tempered by the realization that perhaps there was more to her than met the eye.

As Ambrosia began her trial, I couldn't help but wonder if I had underestimated her. Perhaps she is not the poor delicate girl she was when I left.

The Inquirers voice echoed through the chamber as he posed questions to Ambrosia, probing her knowledge of vampire lore and her understanding of faens. Despite the initial tension between them, she answered with poise and intelligence, her responses earning nods of approval from Ivrolos and begrudging respect from the Inquirer.

When her trial finally came to an end, she returned to her seat with a sense of accomplishment, though she remained wary of the people that stood with us.

No one moved, and the Inquirer looked at us. This is where Ambrosias fate is to be determined. 

"I want her locked up."

Not surprisingly, the Seelie Quee was nowhere to be found, but he would most likely make an appearance at a later point in time. And as we stood in the chamber, bathed in the glow of the torchlight, a newfound understanding passed through me—an acknowledgment of the challenges I am going to have to face to win her back, her heart and mind.