Chapter 22 #2
Kieran moves closer to me. To anyone standing on the expansive porch off the ballroom, we might very well look like lovers ourselves. I step back, creating distance between us to ensure this conversation isn’t misconstrued by any watchful eyes.
“Selene would be proud of you.”
All sense of decorum leaves my body at the sound of my mother’s name on his lips.
“Keep her name out of your vile mouth.”
Footsteps sound rapidly behind us and Kieran moves with lightning speed to cage my head between his strong forearms, pressing my back into the wall of hedges. My hands reach for the dagger, the tip coming to rest against the soft underflesh of his chin.
His voice is low, his lips mere inches from my face as he speaks. “I can give you a way out of all this, Ivy.”
“What makes you think I want a way out?” I bite through clenched teeth.
The heir chuckles deeply as a single drop of his blood snakes down the alloy blade. “We all want a way out.”
Giggles carry from the other side of the shrubbery, sounds of smacking lips and moans of pleasure following. Kieran searches the dark, pulling me away from the hedges and deeper into the shadows.
“When Marks makes his offer later, you should at least consider it.”
I don’t have time to ask what he’s talking about before he turns and heads deeper into the hedges.
A frozen wind sweeps through the courtyard causing my entire body to shudder and carrying away any ounce of curiosity to follow him with it.
Spring is beginning to bloom around us, yet the air lends itself more to snowy conditions, and anyone spending time out here is likely to fall ill.
I rush back to the warm ballroom to escape the abrupt change in the weather, my senses going into overdrive at the onslaught of sight and sound.
Sparkling wine spills neglectfully from too full glasses as nobles spin haphazardly around the crowded dance floor. Orchestral instruments play a cacophonous melody that ends with the loud clanging of cymbals. The room appears more like an offering to Bastin than a noble ball.
A crushing sense of dread sours my stomach, like the air is too thin and all of the exits are blocked. My ears ring and my vision tunnels as overwhelming panic starts to attack my every sense. Time moves backward. Reality shifts.
Something is very wrong here.
“What luck to catch you alone, Lady Ivy.” The owner of the icy voice needs no introduction. Lord General Marks steps into my line of sight, his gloved hand extended in my direction. “Dance with me.”
My heart hammers against my ribcage, my blood revolting at his presence.
I would sooner die than dance with him, but my body operates of its own accord.
I watch through confused eyes as my hand lands in his waiting palm.
The dark leather gloves covering his hands are smooth and warm.
Too warm, like fire runs in his veins rather than blood.
Invisible vines wrap themselves around my brain and squeeze tightly, forcing me to bend to Marks’ will.
I am a puppet, and Marks is the puppet master.
Unnatural shadows foxtrot across the walls as we begin to move. I follow the dark that dances around the edges of my vision, focusing on anything other than the wrongness of living within a body that no longer belongs to me.
Is this how he makes kings answer to him?
A swarm of bodies dressed in ruby red part to reveal Cal’s black-clad form.
His head snaps in my direction, his gray irises overtaken by black pupils.
Familiar power floods my body, mixing with my own until I can breathe steadily again.
My feet move in time to the music, but their movement is all mine again.
Whatever spell Marks held over me is now broken.
“Interesting choice this evening, declaring yourself as royalty before the Ascension Vote.” There’s an oily quality to his words and they leave a slick trail as they wash over me. “You never have been one for subtlety, have you, Poison Ivy?”
The barb of his little nickname spears me, injecting me with a boldness that I wield better than any blade.
“I am coming for you, Lord General,” I whisper. Marks spins me outward in a sweeping twirl, my face coming close to his when he whips me back into his hold. “And when my poison slows your heart, I want you to look me in the eyes as you admit your defeat.”
A foreboding, humorless laugh bellows from his mouth. Dancers around us pause their steps in an effort to hear our conversation. Marks waves them away with a flick of his hand, never stopping our long-short-short step sequence.
“This game goes beyond you, Ivy. Be a good girl and play your part.”
“And what part is that?” A barely contained fury barrels through me at his words.
“Willing partner. Subdued paramour. Dutiful wife.” He spins me again. “It matters not to me, just as long as you submit and keep your poisonous mouth shut, lest I shut it permanently.”
“It’s you that will submit, Lord General.” I snarl at him, baring my teeth like a wild animal, unable to contain my ire any longer.
The music stops abruptly and the dancers step away to clap, but I’m unable to move.
The air in the room is impossibly thin but no one else seems to be struggling to breathe.
My lungs spasm in short pants as I gasp for oxygen and find none.
My nails claw at my throat desperate for breath as black spots threaten to overtake my vision.
My body sways and I can feel myself slumping towards the marble floor.
Strong arms encircle my waist, catching me before I fall. My body rests against a broad chest, the only thing holding me upright and conscious.
I am not supposed to die like this. This isn’t what the gods have foretold would be my fate. I am not in Amale yet.
Air suddenly rushes back into my lungs and I gulp it down by the mouthful, desperate for even a hint of oxygen.
“You don’t look well, Lady Ivy. Perhaps you’ve drunk too much wine? I hear you are fond of that.” Marks’ pointed words scrape against my skin. “It’s a good thing Lord Kieran caught you before you cracked that pretty little head of yours.”
My stomach clenches at the realization of who currently holds me but I don’t have enough strength yet to break away.
“You know, I was just explaining to Governor Rollins how advantageous of a match you two would make,” Marks continues. “Especially now that your father is dead.”
Time stills again, the entire world ceasing to spin as my mind tries to make sense of what’s happening. There’s a cracking in my chest and hot liquid spills from my eyes in wordless rivers.
My father is dead.
“Escort the heir … I mean, the governor … to her room, Kieran. Or yours, if you’d prefer.”
“Yes, Lord General.”
The wet blur of faces, the garbled sounds of music, the forceful grip on my arm, the gasping breaths in my chest—they’re all part of an obscure moment in a new world. A world without my father.
Kieran hauls me forcefully into the hallway, dropping my arm as soon as we’re clear of the heavy oak doors that separate us from society. They shut noiselessly and I’m only vaguely aware that he’s speaking to me.
No, not speaking to me … shouting at me.
But I can’t hear him. I can’t hear anything over the sound of my universe shattering.
“Are you listening to me, Ivy?” Kieran yells.
“No.” My voice is barely a whisper, barely a breath.
Kieran pushes me backward, forcefully smacking my head against the hall wall. Whatever the purpose, the collision forces me out of my stupor.
“What the fuck do you want from me?!” I scream, my voice raw as magic sizzles at my fingertips. I can’t control it in this state, and there’s no telling which side will decide to come out when my hold breaks.
“Tomorrow, you’re going to accept Marks’ offer to marry me.”
“I would rather DIE!” I shout at him again and the floor beneath us trembles.
“And that’s exactly what you’ll do if you don’t get yourself under control right now.”
Kieran must have slipped the dagger from my thigh at some point during my stupor, its edge now pressing against my throat.
Warmth dribbles down the column of my neck as the cold steel bites into my skin.
It’s barely a nick, but the dark side of my magic rises in response to the iron tang of blood that laces the air.
I lean into the alloy blade, my blood trailing down the markings—Arcasia’s markings that now glow blue.
“Kill me or get out of my fucking way, Kieran.”
The otherworldly voice that leaves my throat isn’t wholly mine. Thick vines of ivy trail up the wall behind him. Everything I imagined using my power for in the garden hovers just within reach.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Rollins?” Cal’s voice cuts through the haze like a knife as it rumbles down the large, empty hallway.
Fury, the likes of which can only be rivaled by the Dark God of Death, drips from his form.
His entire body vibrates with power. Thin black shadows swirl around my feet in response, skating over my porcelain skin in a delicate graze.
With only a thought, the ends sharpen into dagger-like points, poised to strike.
“Back the fuck away from her, Kieran, or I will kill you where you stand.”
Black overtakes Cal’s irises as he stalks towards us, power crackling in the air around him like lightning. Is this what he looks like on the battlefield before he takes on his enemy? Is this the last thing the legion of Synalian soldiers saw before they met Death?
“Do both of you have a death wish?” Kieran mutters, his russet eyes burning as red as his suit as he backs away from me. “Marks has eyes everywhere.”
Kieran lunges at Cal but only gets a single step before my blade falls from his hands. Blood drips from the corners of Kieran’s mouth as he gasps for air, clawing at his throat in a manner that feels all too familiar. Cal’s arms shake violently as Kieran drops in a heap to the floor.
The air is electric and my own power screams back in response, more than eager to join the symphony.
Magic calls out to me, the siren song almost too strong to resist. Something old and strange shouts at me to release my hold and join whatever ripples through the cold granite hallway.
To shake the foundation with only a thought, to kill with the inky apparitions that flit around me.
Shouts and pounding feet echo on the stone floor. Cal’s eyes snap to me before barking a single command, every word dripping with violent, unruly power.
“Run.”
Shadows flood the room, casting me into total darkness.
A scream rings out through the pitch black, a scream that I recognize as my own.
I turn and run, my feet covering more ground than should be possible in the short amount of time.
I take the stairs two at a time, not slowing until I find my room.
Locking the door behind me, I dive into my bed and pull the silk sheets over my head.
Whoever I was this morning is no more. Whatever hold I had on my power, on my life, is gone. Violent sobs wrack my body, tears flowing freely until my body passes out from exhaustion.
And it’s there, in the Ruby Governor’s manor, that I die.