Chapter 23 #2
“If you step foot in Amale, Ivy Fellows, I will personally make sure you meet your father. And trust me, Death will have no mercy for you.”
The coffee is bitter and lukewarm at best. Between sips of the rich, bold liquid, I admire my handiwork.
Thick bands of vines at least six inches in diameter decorate the stone walls.
Running both in parallel and perpendicularly are vines of variegated ivy.
Forest green leaves rimmed in white tangle amongst the solid, sprawling vegetation.
Magic must have a signature. I recognize mine even when I don’t feel its familiar tingle in my blood.
The tugging sensation that flares within me every time I use it didn’t come, but these plants are mine.
I can sense my life in them. The pulsing heartbeat of air, water, and chlorophyll.
I created them and they answer only to me.
I’ve felt Cal’s magic and now I’ve felt Marks’. Each different. Each unique.
I snap my fingers and watch as the plants begin to shrivel, slowly compounding in on themselves until they crumble.
By the time I’ve drained my second cup of coffee, the stone walls are bare again.
Piles of dust along the floor are the only evidence that something occurred here.
And even though the vines are no longer living, the decaying death that stripped them of their essence is as much mine as the life that coursed through them minutes ago.
Ever since my magic manifested I’ve kept it hidden, terrified that someone would exploit me against my will.
But that deep-seated fear has vanished. I am a weapon, and if I don’t wield it, someone else will.
I broke my personal blood oath of secrecy and snapped the rigorous reins of my own repression.
This magic, both beautiful and deadly, is as much a part of me as my blood and bones.
It’s time I started acting like it.
The courtyard isn’t far from the dining room, but I take my time getting there. Cal is undoubtedly getting an earful from Marks anyway. I recognized the cold air that extinguished the fire as his, and I’m certain his commander did too.
Soldiers in gray uniforms trimmed in gold file down the large staircase and out the doors, each carrying bags, swords, or furs. I watch them in quiet contemplation, but even as the last of the envoy heads towards the stables, Kieran doesn’t appear.
No matter. Whatever happened in the hallway last night was denouncement enough of this proposed union.
Tables made of red-veined marble sit every few feet along the hall that leads to the courtyard, each topped in a vase filled with winter roses.
Blooms clipped from the hedges that cover the gardens and stripped clean of their thorns.
I pluck one from its urn, trailing a single finger down the slick, green stem.
Sharp, brown points sprout from the scarred places where they once protruded.
I slide the pad of my thumb across one. The prick doesn’t sting or burn; in fact, my nerves barely register it at all.
Bright red blood pools to the surface of my skin.
Blood that looks the same as it did yesterday, but feels infinitely more powerful.
The sun is bright against the snowy drifts that cover the paved walkway.
The green of the hedges contrasts beautifully against the stark white.
Four thick hedges, each at least eight feet tall, create the outline of a square.
A golden fountain nestled in the center forms the crowning centerpiece of the courtyard.
Roses, petals shriveled and frozen, dot the thorny rows.
Wilted blooms perk up, life filling them again as I walk past.
I close my eyes, tilting my face towards the warmth radiating from above.
With an exhale, I breathe out the essence of existence.
Deep violet crocus blooms burst brazenly from the empty, frozen garden beds.
Drooping green and white snowdrops, yellow daffodils, pale narcissus, orange pansies, winter daphne, and bold pink camellias join in a color symphony that looks as if it was sent by the Goddess of Spring herself.
Power flows effortlessly from me. With barely more than a thought, I can summon more magic than I ever dreamed possible.
I wielded only a fraction of this in the woods, when I commanded the earth to swallow the dead and conceal every trace of the gruesome scene.
Using that much pushed me past the brink of exhaustion, but I don’t even break a sweat now.
My skin tingles as a warm, familiar power washes over me. I know he approaches before I hear his footsteps.
“Did you know?” I say without turning around.
“Ivy.” Pain laces his voice, the single word telling me the truth. But I need to hear him say it.
“Did you know?” I ask again slowly.
“No, I swear it.” Cal steps beside me, his shoulder brushing mine as he takes in my creations. “I found out when you did.”
My magic screams at me to believe him, and it’s that feeling that forces me to push him further. I need to know if I can trust this new, seemingly depthless magic not to lead me astray.
“The soldier that stopped you when we rode into Gathe. What did he tell you?”
Cal’s head moves on a silent swivel, surveying the courtyard and the windows that overlook it. He grabs my arm and pulls me to where two hedges meet, the corner providing the perfect shield against prying eyes.
“He told me that Marks is mobilizing troops. Not a lot, but enough to make a statement. Enough to remind the people who is really in control.”
Cal offers the information easily, leaving me room to ask the question that will solidify his trustworthiness. It’s information that he can’t possibly know I have, courtesy of soldiers with too loose lips.
“To where?” I ask.
“Topaz,” he replies without hesitation.
In a world of politics and strategy, truth is rarely offered so freely and openly, even amongst allies. He pulls me into his chest, one hand cradling the back of my head as if he can absorb me into him if he holds on tight enough.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Ivy. If you—”
“Is this when you beg me to go back to Emerald?” I ask against the black wool that covers his expanse of muscles. “Tell me all about your orders and what’s in my best interest?”
“What?” Cal drops his hold on my head, pulling back to look me fully in the face. Silver lines the edges of his gray eyes, full of shock and hurt. “You think I would do that? Fuck his orders! The only person who commands me is you.”
“Until I ask you to do something you disagree with,” I scoff.
“What have I done to give you the impression that I would do anything other than whatever you asked of me?” Cal’s voice is gruff and agitated.
“Turning back never crossed my mind. But do you know what did, princess? Setting up a meeting with an informant so you can know exactly who’s warming your chair back home.
You need to go to Amale, but you also need to know that your people are safe.
Look me in the eyes and tell me that I’m wrong. ”
I swallow the thick knot that attempts to fully block my airway.
His pain shoots out like an arrow piercing through the membranous layer of numbness that covers me.
And as his forehead bends to rest against mine, the last of that protective shield slips away.
I feel it all; our shared anguish, grief, and sorrow is depthless.
Our hold on each other may be the only thing keeping us both afloat.
“Can we trust him?” I ask on a breathy exhale, trying to hold in the tears that prick at my skull.
“We?” He pauses, waiting to see if I walk my word choice back again, waiting to see if it was unintentional. When I don’t, a soft smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.
“Yeah, princess. We can trust him. But I need you to stay here, out of sight. We can’t risk word getting to Marks that I’m doing anything other than gathering intel for what I might encounter in Emerald. We’ll give him a day’s head start and leave in the morning.”
Even if Marks didn’t have magic, he has the full force of the Corinthian military at his command. I don’t like staying behind, and I don’t like staying here longer than necessary, but Cal is right. We need the element of surprise on our side.
“Kieran rode off with Marks and rumor has it that Charles Rollins is sleeping off a hangover from hell, so you don’t have to worry about them bothering you while I’m gone.”
“It’s Rollins who should be worried about me,” I scoff. “Both of them.”
Cal’s thumb brushes across the tiny cut across my throat where Kieran held the dagger. The magic that usually flutters when his skin touches mine bursts into an explosion of light and sensation. His fingers tremble against my skin, a signal that our experience is shared.
I don’t know who moves first, but when our lips crash together, the kiss is consuming.
Neither of us able to fight the gravitational pull of the other.
Cal’s magic mixes with mine in a cocktail that could intoxicate even the most powerful of the gods.
Every inch of me vibrates with the sensation, every nerve ending alighting with power.
From the tips of my fingers to the tips of my toes, I am electric and thirst for more.
He is an oasis in a desert and I drink him in.
Cal breaks the kiss, breathless and tense. Conflict is written across his features, clearly torn about his next move. Something hovers on the tip of his tongue and I decide to put him out of his misery.
“Go,” I command. “Get information that we can use and come back to me.”
He plants one last kiss to my forehead before stepping away.
“On one condition,” he jokes as he retreats. “Try not to turn the entire manor into a greenhouse while I’m gone.”