Chapter 8
Ivy
Tinom raps his sinewy hand against the wooden dining table. His face has gone ruddy beneath the thin fringe of his gray-and-white hair. “Whatever else we put in place, we need that blood-sworn letter.”
His voice rings through the sparsely decorated room with so much force I have to restrain a wince. My gaze darts to the narrow window overlooking the city street outside, where another evening is descending into night.
We shouldn’t have to worry. Tinom owns this tenement building in one of Florian’s wealthier middle-class neighborhoods as part of his family’s holdings, and the two apartments on the uppermost floor were vacant when the Order of the Wild swept into the capital. The magic advisor has been hiding out here along with a couple of devouts who escaped the purge at the Temple of the Crown, using his considerable skill with illusions to ensure his former colleague and Lothar’s new comrades don’t discover his refuge.
But we’ve taken shelter in apartments we thought were safe before, only to have to run for our lives. Since the moment the king declared me and my men enemies of the kingdom, we’ve had to constantly be on the move.
The only place we had any security was the hidden sanctuary for the riven, the Haven, where the only other sane riven sorcerer I’ve met taught me the basics of controlling my power. But that safety came with a different sort of price. We couldn’t interact with the outside world at all—and when we decided we needed to stand up to the scourge sorcerers again, Sulla tried to turn the Haven into our prison.
I never thought I’d miss the days of sleeping on Stavros’s sofa in his professorial quarters at the royal college, but that time looks strangely peaceful through the lens of my memory.
A flash that could be a flare of magic whips past the window—but no tingle of energy crosses my skin, and no one else reacts. I yank my eyes away from the hallucination, back to what’s real around the table.
About twenty of us have squeezed into the now-cramped room. Petra, her siblings, my men, and I are clustered around one end of the table. Tinom sits at the other end, flanked by the two devouts along with several soldiers and a couple of nobles he’s sure are loyal to the Melchiorek family.
We’ve spent most of the past day gathering this group of loyalists. It felt like we were making quite a bit of progress in the moment, but seeing the end result, I can’t help thinking back to the army of hundreds Lothar was able to send to cut down the king.
Of course, my men and I left that army in disarray, the most devoted of them cut down in battle themselves. But we only managed it by tricking the Darium soldiers stationed on the other side of the channel into doing most of the work.
We’re not going to get away with using that gambit twice.
Petra leans forward where she’s sitting, setting her elbows on the table. I can’t help being impressed by the increasingly queenly demeanor that’s come over her with more supporters to command.
“The letter is the best proof we have of my identity,” she says. “But Lothar’s people could lie about the results of a test—they could destroy it. We’d need a loyal cleric to confirm its validity who the people also trust.”
The baroness next to Tinom lifts her chin at a haughty angle that immediately sets my nerves on edge. I don’t think Julita would have liked Baroness Sibelle either. The woman has gone to the effort of sculpting her dark hair into stylish whorls and painting her eyelids as if it matters how fashionable she is while the world is falling apart around her.
Her eyes flicker with a gleam that’s a little sly. “We don’t need to worry about confirming it yet. Simply showing the letter with its seal will be enough to convince most of the commoners. Look at how easily they’ve bought into the refuse Lothar and his ilk are selling them.”
The devout at her left nods eagerly. “Many are eager for solid ground after the news of King Konram’s and Queen Ishild’s—that is, your parents’—deaths. They’ll want to believe that the Melchiorek line can be continued.”
He blushes at his brief stumble. I can’t help wondering to what extent any of our allies believe Petra’s story without definitive proof.
Tinom might be insisting so urgently as much to convince Petra’s latest supporters as wider society. Maybe he even needs to convince himself.
“She has the testimony of her siblings as well,” Stavros points out, in a slightly ominous tone that makes me think he’s picked up on the same hints of doubt.
Petra shakes her head. “I won’t bring Klaudia and Jacos for the initial announcement. It’ll be too dangerous.”
I frown and motion toward Tinom. “You’re a master of illusions. Couldn’t we use a similar trick to what Lothar did at the temple last night—project the image of Petra into a public place so she can speak to the people without being physically under threat?”
My skin prickles as several gazes settle on me alongside his. Tinom’s is coolly assessing. He knows what I am—he almost ran off last night before Petra dashed over and flashed her family’s seal.
I suspect he’s still not all that happy to be making plans with a riven sorcerer.
The others, I don’t think he’s told, maybe because he isn’t sure what they’d think of him allowing my presence. But I haven’t put on my false noble airs like I did at the college. They probably have no idea what to make of me at all.
Tinom pauses before dipping his head in a slow nod. “Yes, of course, projecting illusions would be the obvious solution. Since we wouldn’t want to allow any direct interaction at that tentative early stage regardless.”
Petra knits her brow as if she isn’t pleased with this line of conversation. From getting to know her better over the past several days, I suspect she’d prefer to meet her subjects properly for such an important announcement.
But she can’t deny how necessary the precaution would be. “All right. Regardless, we shouldn’t set anything into motion until we have objective proof that I’m the heir to the throne. What’s the current situation in the Capital Palace?”
She looks at the standing soldiers. They’ve shed their blue uniforms so they can blend in when we venture outside, but I can see the military training in their postures.
Next to me, Rheave’s gaze darts over the assembled figures. He already confirmed that none of them were captured daimon who’d infiltrated the royal military, but I get the impression that he doesn’t totally trust them as humans all the same.
I can’t say I’d be keen to put my life in their hands either, considering how many of their colleagues have attempted to hunt me down in the past few months.
The man among them who has the highest rank—a major—glances at Stavros as if the former general will be able to answer for him before clearing his throat. “I’m afraid the palace is entirely overrun. The Order of the Wild encouraged total disrespect of the Melchiorek legacy. The initial looting has waned, but many of Lothar’s followers have settled within the walls. We couldn’t simply walk in and take what we want.”
Alek speaks up a little hesitantly. “Are you sure the letter would even still be there? It wouldn’t have been found during the looting?”
“My father had a secure hidden cache in his bedroom,” Petra says. “It could only be found by someone who knows where it’s meant to be, which at the moment is only our family.”
She turns to me. “Ivy, I hate to ask more of you, but it appears stealth would be a much more viable option for us than strength. That’s your area of expertise. I’m sure Tinom could give you additional protection with a temporary concealment enchantment.”
The magic advisor draws his posture up straighter, his shoulders going rigid. “It would be simple enough. But are you sure— To send her alone?—”
To leave the riven to her own devices, he must be thinking. As if I haven’t had plenty of opportunities to sow ruin before now if I’d wanted to.
Petra cuts a glance toward Tinom that stops whatever concern he was going to express before the rest of the words leave his lips. “There’s no one I’d trust more than Ivy with the task.” Her attention returns to me. “If you’ll take it.”
As I stare back at her face so like her mother’s, the traces of her father’s bearing showing in her calm composure, my throat constricts.
King Konram asked a lot of me before he knew what I was. But he never truly asked. It was either direct orders or commands phrased like a question that didn’t allow for an argument.
Petra is her father’s child, but also her own person. A person I find myself not particularly wanting to let down.
I wet my lips, picturing myself slipping through the halls of the grand palace I’ve only entered once before—and then in the midst of a daimon battle. Even with the help of a concealment illusion, it’ll be dangerous.
I’ve done dozens of things equally dangerous or more in the past few months, though. What’s another for the history books?
My mind is still acting up, yes, but I’ve been able to recognize the hallucinations before I react. And the longer I can go without turning to my own magic again, the more the effects should fade.
I hope.
It’s not as if we have time to waste. The longer Lothar keeps his hold over the country, the more people he’ll draw into his brand of madness.
“Of course,” I say. “Whatever I can do to see you on the throne and Lothar in his grave.”
I’d worry that my death wish for the former magic advisor might be a little too blunt, but a couple of the soldiers snort in amusement and Sibille’s lips form a sharp grin. Clearly it’s a sentiment we all share.
“Thank you,” Petra says like she means it, and pushes to her feet. “It’s been several long, hard days for all of us. I think we should get some rest and finish our planning with clear heads. We can aim to send Ivy on her mission tomorrow evening.”
She dips her head in a dismissal.
As I push myself to my feet, my legs sway under me. I didn’t sleep all that well last night even with proper walls around me.
Images of Lothar standing in the temple and me hurling a murderous lance of magic toward him kept flashing through my mind. That and the way Petra’s siblings recoiled when they first saw me in the underground storeroom.
Casimir slips his hand around my arm. “Come on, Kindness. Let’s set aside all these responsibilities for a little while.”
He guides me down the hall to the room the five of us have taken as our own. It’s unfurnished, but we were able to gather enough blankets to form a large sleeping mat that covers about half of the floor.
My other men follow us. As I turn to face them, a swell of emotion rises up in my chest.
I was torn away from them, and I haven’t really gotten to appreciate being back with them since we reunited. There’ve been so many other problems dogging us, other people around that I had to put on a strong front for.
These four men accept my weaknesses as well as my power. There’s nothing I’m craving more right now than a reminder of their affection.
I kick off my boots by the door and sink down in the middle of the blanketed area. Then I hold out my hand, beckoning them all over.
I think they can tell from my attitude that I’m looking for comfort rather than passion at this moment. They settle themselves in a ring around me, Casimir by my back, Rheave and Stavros at either side of me, and Alek in front.
Rheave loops his arm around mine while Stavros takes my hand, stroking his thumb over my knuckles. Casimir rubs my back in a gentle motion, careful of my scars.
Alek caresses his fingers over my cheek, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind my ear. “How are you doing, Ivy? I thought we’d been through a lot already, but this…” He shakes his head. “At least it seems we’ve finally gotten to the core of the conspiracy.”
“Yes,” I say. We just don’t know what to do about it. But I want to spend a little time not thinking about Lothar for once. “I’m just glad I’m with all of you again. Whatever happens going forward, having you is the bright spot that helps me through the dark parts.”
Stavros lets out a low rumble. “Don’t ever doubt that you do the same for us.”
Rheave’s voice dips low. “When you were gone, when we didn’t know what had happened to you…” His voice trails off raggedly, and then he seems to master the emotion that gripped him. “But our little vine is back with us, and that’s what matters.”
The daimon-man leans in to kiss the side of my neck. He’s only just started exploring the bodily pleasures two—or more—people can conjure together, but he’s both an eager student and a quick study.
The press of his lips sends a jolt of heat straight to my sex. All at once, my nerves are humming with desire for the other sorts of intimacy we haven’t had the privacy or energy for while on the road to Florian.
As usual, Casimir picks up the shift in my mood immediately. He teases his hands down to my waist to undo my belt and then up to work at the lacing on my dress. “I think our woman deserves the full welcome she’s had to go so many days without.”
Stavros’s heated chuckle is all agreement. Alek simply offers one of his quiet but bright smiles and trails his fingers up my thigh.
Rheave eases back to watch as Casimir peels the dress off me. The daimon-man’s eyes widen taking in my partial nakedness, my chemise and the pants that serve as an underdress still in place.
We didn’t have much opportunity to undress the first time we came together that intimately.
He hums thoughtfully. “Less clothes makes it easier. No clothes would be even better.”
A laugh I didn’t expect bubbles out of me. “It does, but normally we work up to that. I wouldn’t mind seeing you without that shirt, though.”
He obliges without hesitation, pulling off the woolen tunic and tossing it aside.
The makers of his body might have used twisted magic to bring it to life, but they gave him quite a nice form to work with. Taut muscles define the planes of his broad shoulders and his quite literally sculpted chest.
I expect him to reach for me again, but instead he glances around at the other men. “You all know Ivy and what she likes better than I do. I want to see… what you each would do for her, to make her feel as good as possible.”
Stavros lets out a soft snort. “Looking to replace us all once you’ve added to your repertoire?”
Rheave appears to take his question at face value. “Oh, no,” he says hastily. “I couldn’t be you, just as you couldn’t be each other. Or me. But I don’t know—I never paid much attention— I think if I had more of an idea of the options, I could make her feel just as good my own way.”
I touch his jaw, bringing his gaze back to me. “You’re very good already, Rheave. I haven’t been disappointed with anything you’ve offered me.”
He aims one of his sunny smiles at me. “Then I can look forward to bringing you even more joy.”
Casimir grins. “A sentiment I couldn’t approve of more.” He nips the crook of my shoulder. “Who would like to provide the first demonstration?”
I suspect the courtesan is holding back so as not to intimidate the others. The carnal arts are the main focus of his training, after all. Just that tiny scrape of his teeth has set my skin alight.
Not one to refuse a challenge, Stavros twists toward me. He tucks his prosthetic under the hem of my chemise, the hooked loop of metal grazing my waist beneath, and his mouth curves into the cocky smirk that used to infuriate me. “I know what special benefits I can bring to the bedroom.”
As he uses his prosthetic to drag the thin fabric over my head, I shiver giddily. And then with a headier pleasure as he flicks the metal surface over one bared nipple and the other. A whimper creeps from my throat.
A faint flush has colored Rheave’s pale face as he watches, but he doesn’t stir from his vantage point.
Stavros catches the waist of my trousers next, and Alek helps him slide them from my legs. As the former general traces his prosthetic down the front of my drawers next, he wraps his other arm around me and claims his first kiss.
As always, the feel of his massive frame enveloping me is overwhelming even without the additional pleasure of his artificial appendage. With the melding of our mouths, warmth floods me.
Not breaking the kiss, Stavros lifts me right onto his lap. The incredible strength contained in that impressive body of his is a turn-on all on its own.
I’ve been carrying all my weight for a long time. It’s a release to be able to trust someone else to support me.
I sling one arm around his neck to pull myself deeper into the kiss. Stavros tightens his embrace so he can toy with my nipple between his fingers while returning his prosthetic to the dampening place between my thighs.
Rheave was right when he said that he couldn’t become any of my other men and none of them could become each other. There’s nothing quite like the sense of being so fully encompassed and possessed that the military man offers.
As Stavros pinches my nipple to provoke a flash of bliss, he works his prosthetic right under the fabric of my drawers. When the metal loop strokes over my clit, my fingers dig into his tunic. I moan into his mouth.
He’s gained confidence in using that part of himself since our first explorations. He works my sweet spot over until I’m shaking with need and then hooks the prosthetic right up inside me.
His breath scorches my cheek. “Yes, that’s what you need.”
I can only whimper in agreement.
Our kisses turn wilder as Stavros pumps the metal loop into my channel. He keeps the base rubbing my clit with the perfect amount of pressure. There’s nothing I can do but hold on through the waves of delight he’s summoning.
He tangles his fingers in my hair and devours my mouth even more forcefully. His thrusts speed up, propelling me over the edge.
My climax sweeps through me with another moan I muffle against his lips. Stavros holds me through my shudders and marks my cheek with a more tender kiss as I come back to earth. “It’s always an honor to feel you let go—and let me take you there.”
A breathless giggle spills out of me. “You can have that honor whenever you like.”
“Very good,” Rheave murmurs. When I look at him, his hands are clenched by his folded legs, but he stays where he is.
To my surprise, Alek makes an impatient sound before I even need to encourage him. “You can’t keep her all to yourself, Stav.”
With another sweet smile, he draws me away from the taller man. My heart aches with happiness seeing the assurance that’s so new on his mottled face.
As I set my palm against the scholar’s scarred cheek, he lowers his head to claim a kiss of his own. He leans into it, adjusting the angle of his lips, varying the pressure, flicking his tongue between my lips so I clutch at him even more eagerly.
He eases back with a glint of triumph in his bright brown eyes and looks at Rheave. “I didn’t have much experience to call on at first either. But the most important thing isn’t what you’d do with any woman, it’s learning what will give this woman the most pleasure.”
I beam at him. “And I’ve been delighted to become your latest research project.”
Alek laughs and guides me down to the floor so my head is resting on Stavros’s muscular leg like a firm pillow, the ridges on my back cushioned by the blankets.
As the scholar tracks a path of the places along my neck and shoulders where he’s determined his lips and teeth have the most effect, the former general hums approvingly and combs his fingers through my hair. The graze of their tips over my scalp heightens every sensation Alek provokes.
The scholar laps the tip of one breast into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it. When I gasp and grip the thick waves of his hair, he exhales over the sensitized peak in a hot rush. Then he moves to the other side to repeat the effect.
He doesn’t linger on my chest long, though, before working his way down the side of my belly. There, he tugs my drawers down.
“The sweetest spot to study,” he murmurs, and lowers his head to my sex.
The swipe of his tongue over my clit has me bucking to meet his mouth. I catch a vaguely strangled sound from Rheave’s direction, but my mind has hazed too much with desire for me to linger on that fact.
I rock with Alek’s skillful attentions, another wave of ecstasy building in my core. He plunges his fingers inside me and curls them along my channel until he finds the headiest spot within.
As he suckles my clit and pumps his fingers against that blissful place, the sensations sweep through me even faster. Pleasure coils and unfurls and swells, sending a chorus of needy noises out of me.
“Fuck, Alek,” I mumble, and clutch his hair harder as the wave finally crashes over me.
My head sags back into Stavros’s lap. Alek dapples tender kisses along my inner thigh before sitting up with a satisfied expression that makes me want to kiss him all over again.
Before I can, Casimir is nudging me upright. He turns me around and pulls me against him so my back is flush with his toned torso.
He nibbles at my earlobe before murmuring in a silky tone, “And I know that our woman likes to be pampered and lose control.”
His hands glide over my body with the gentlest of touches, coaxing every flutter of bliss he can from my nerves. I lean into him with a sigh, giving myself over to his sweet adoration.
The courtesan is right that he’s discovered other approaches I find equally thrilling. When his hands reach my thighs, he yanks my hips back against him with a jerk. The force of the motion and the press of his rigid erection against my ass make my heart skip giddily.
His voice comes out in a purred growl that’s even more electrifying. “You’ll open yourself for me now.”
My legs slide farther apart automatically. I’d forgotten just how freeing it feels to let Casimir take charge of me. To know that if I let him, he’ll tend to me as only he knows how.
He aligns himself behind me and plunges into my already drenched sex. The rush of being suddenly filled after so much stimulation shocks a cry from my lips. I clench my teeth against it, not wanting to alert the entire apartment to what we’re up to.
Casimir works his way even deeper with a few steady thrusts from behind. He lifts one hand to fondle my breast while looking over my shoulder toward Rheave.
The daimon-man is completely flushed now, his hands dug into the folds of the blanket he’s sitting on. His eerie blue-green eyes flare with an even starker light than usual.
I can hear the courtesan’s smile in his voice. “One thing I know better than anything else is that two or more of us can offer Ivy even more pleasure than just one, if we work together. Would you like to put any of tonight’s observations to use right away, my friend?”
Rheave sucks in a shaky breath that turns into a rumble in his chest. His body surges forward, right toward me.
The daimon-man catches my face between his hands and kisses me so hard I could drown in him. I sway between my two lovers, wanting to give myself over to both.
Rheave drops lower, flicking his tongue over the tender flesh just below my belly button and then diving even farther.
Without any sign of concern about Casimir’s proximity, he presses his mouth to the spot just above where the courtesan and I are joined.
Casimir thrusts into me again, and I push against Rheave’s mouth. His tongue darts out across my clit, and I grasp his dark curls with a partly stifled moan.
“So good,” I rasp. “It feels so fucking good.”
Rheave’s pleased hum reverberates through my sex. I clutch on to him with one hand and Casimir’s arm with the other.
Why didn’t Alek’s erotic poetry book ever suggest this particular combination? Or maybe it did and we simply hadn’t gotten to it yet.
Either way, I’m caught between the two men in the most delicious possible way. With every pump of Casimir’s cock and caress of Rheave’s mouth, I careen higher.
My final orgasm starts with a shudder that resonates right out of the center of me. I crack apart in a blaze of pleasure that knocks the breath from my lungs.
Casimir groans and nips my shoulder when he follows me over. As we sag together, Rheave sits up, licking his lips.
“I look forward to learning all I can,” he says in an awed tone.
A breathless giggle escapes me. “I think I’m looking forward to it even more.”
At least I have a few good things waiting after all the trials I haven’t yet faced. Assuming I survive that long.