Chapter 32 #2
I walk until I can’t make out any hint of my companions through the trees and then keep going a little farther for good measure. The wind rattles the branches over my head, bringing a crisp, wild scent I try to commit to memory.
How well will I recall all the bodily experiences I’ve enjoyed once I no longer have a physical presence? Will my existence as a sort-of human fade as if it never happened?
I set my quiver against a tree and slide out one of the arrows. As I look at the afternoon sunlight glancing off the sharp metal tip, all my innards seem to clench up.
I turn the shaft between my fingers, in the grips of a silent debate.
I’d be leaving her behind. I promised to protect her.
But have I really managed to do that, or have I only put her in more danger, again and again?
There’s so much more I hoped for. So much that my chest aches with it alongside the pangs of regret for what I have done.
At the snap of a twig, I jerk around.
Ivy stops several paces away, her worried gaze fixed on me.
She got this close without me hearing her approaching. I don’t know whether to credit my distraction or her skills in stealth.
When I don’t speak, she walks closer. “What are you doing, Rheave?”
It’s difficult to concentrate on my intentions when she’s looking at me like that.
I grope for the right words. “It’s dangerous for me to be with you. I keep ruining things.”
Somehow her face turns even sadder. “None of that was your fault. The scourge sorcerers were messing with you. When we’ve dealt with them, that won’t happen anymore.”
“But we don’t know how long that’ll take or what else they might do before then. What else they might make me do.”
Ivy frowns. “So why did you come out here? Did you think you’d just walk away? You didn’t take any food—you didn’t even bring your bow…”
Her gaze slides from the quiver I set down to the arrow in my hand, and her stance goes rigid. “Rheave, you weren’t going to— I thought you wanted to keep your body.”
A sudden, unexpected heat wells up behind my eyes.
I find myself blinking hard against the moisture that starts to collect there.
“I do. It’s been incredible—but giving it up is the easiest solution.
If I don’t have this body, if it’s only chunks of broken clay, then they can’t force me to do anything I don’t want to do. ”
Ivy grasps my wrist by the hand holding the arrow. “I wouldn’t ask you to give up this new part of your life just because you’ve struggled a little. None of us would. We’ll figure something else out.”
“But it keeps happening, no matter what I try. I can’t even tell they’re sending their magic at me until it’s too late.”
She pauses, studying me. “Do you want to go back to being just a daimon? So you can be free of all the trouble?”
“No!” The answer bursts out of me before I can contain it. “I still haven’t—I haven’t done anything that really matters.”
Ivy knits her brow. “What do you mean?”
My frustration constricts my chest. “I never understood before… Humans exist for such a short time in the scheme of things. But you leave your mark on the world in so many ways that I never have in the entire time I wandered without caring… I want to make a difference. Change something for the better.”
“I think you already have,” Ivy says quietly. “But you can still do more.”
A lump has clogged my throat. I have to swallow it to speak. “I want to matter. But that’s selfish, isn’t it? I should do what would make things better for the most people right now.”
Ivy’s hand tightens on my arm. “I don’t think killing this body would be the best thing. Because you do matter already. You matter to me.”
I lift my gaze, searching her expression. She still looks sad and worried, and there’s something else shimmering in her eyes that I can’t decipher.
But it isn’t quite what I’m looking for.
“Not like they do,” I say, tilting my head in the direction she came from.
Ivy’s mouth twists. “Rheave—”
“I want to really matter to you.”
All at once, it feels immensely important that I make this much clear. That she understands what she means to me before I do… whatever I decide I have to do.
I let the arrow slip from my fingers as I step closer, bringing one hand to her cheek, the other to the fall of her hair by her neck. The softness of those waves against my fingers sends a tingle over my skin.
She is so loving and so strong, so willing to risk herself to save me no matter what danger I’ve put myself and her in. The most incredible part of this incredible world.
Ivy draws in a breath as if to speak, but I start first. “I want to be here for you the way they are. I want… I want to be able to make you smile and laugh like simply being near me brightens your life. I want to be able to touch you and know my presence makes you feel safe and happy. It’s like a kind of magic, how they are with you—how you are with them— I don’t know how to conjure that kind of joy, but if I did, I’d never leave. ”
My fingers have traced down her cheek to her jaw. A quiver passes through Ivy’s body.
She lets out a strained little sound, and then she’s bobbing up on her toes to brush her lips to mine.
Oh. This—this is what kissing is meant to be. The sensation of our mouths pressing together sparks a heat nothing like the careful overtures I offered to less intimate places before.
I cup her jaw and adjust my head, trying to find the angle where our lips meld together most perfectly. The hint of a gasp that spills on her breath to mingle with mine sends another jolt of heat straight to the appendage between my legs.
By all the gods, there’s so much more I want than I even fully recognized. Every inch of my body aches to align with hers, to soak up her warmth and the softness of her skin beneath her clothes.
My other hand falls to her waist, instinctively tugging her closer against me. But the gesture must startle Ivy.
She stumbles backward, a flush spreading up her neck to her cheeks. She presses her hand to her lips. “I—”
Then she seems to master herself, with all the fortitude I’m used to. Lifting her chin, she grabs the arrow I dropped and slings the quiver over her shoulder.
She fixes me with a firm gaze. “You matter a lot, Rheave. You—you remind me of how much joy a person can find in the world. Why it’s worth going through all this awfulness to protect this country.
It would hurt me a lot more to lose you than to help you deal with the assholes who made your body. Please, come back with me.”
So many emotions are colliding inside me that I’m afraid to move. She came to me—but then she pulled away. I’m not sure if I can do the right thing when I want so much.
The idea of walking straight back to face the men she wouldn’t hesitate to embrace only sets me even more off-kilter.
I wet my lips. “I’ll come. But I need… a few minutes. By myself. To be sure I’m totally in control now.”
I don’t say exactly what I need to control. To my relief, Ivy doesn’t ask.
She aims a determined finger at me. “I can give you that, but you have to promise me you’re not going to hurt yourself. Or leave. You can take some time to think, but then you’ll come back to the camp, and we’ll keep doing things that matter.”
I’d like to ask whether the things that matter could include more proper kissing, but I sense that isn’t a wise direction of conversation at the moment.
There’s too much giddiness and light in the tangled sensations rippling through my veins for me to even consider going through with my former intentions until I’ve seen where this could lead.
“I promise. I won’t leave. I wouldn’t do anything that would hurt you on purpose. ”
“Good. I’ll go see what everyone else is thinking. But whatever plan we come up with, I’m sure it’ll include you too.”
She strides off between the trees, leaving me staring after her in a daze.
Has she pulled me back from the brink of a tragedy—or straight toward one?