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Catherine frowned. "You're far too full of yourself. What you're saying is practically blasphemy."
Who could hope to bargain with gods? To do so was to place oneself on equal footing with them, and was nothing less than outright sacrilege.
Ambrose shook his head. "No. This isn't arrogance. After everything I've been through, I understand my place more clearly than ever. The elven gods must see that too. That's why they gave you that crucial blessing to help me pass this trial of fate. If that's the case, why not be a little more generous?"
Centuries ago, Ambrose had been nothing more than an insignificant bystander in this world. But ever since the fall of Alkhemia, he had been steadily stepping toward center stage.
Lyon had lifted its bounty on the undead. He had saved the Court of the Silver Moon from annihilation. He had practically sold off Alkhemia itself. He had taken control of the Dreamveil...
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