Chapter 6
Six
Rheave
The horses’ hooves clop across the forest floor at an even rhythm that I’d delight in if I didn’t have so much distracting me from the simple pleasure.
Even when I’m not looking at her, every inch of my skin quivers with the awareness of Ivy’s presence. I do look at her quite a bit, because some part of me needs the extra confirmation that she’s really here.
My hands tighten around the reins, but I resist the impulse to urge my horse closer to hers. I’m already riding within a few feet of her as we pick our way through the forest. There are spaces two horses can’t squeeze through side by side.
If we hadn’t managed to borrow a couple more mounts from a farm we passed for the royal heirs to ride on, I might have shared Toast with her like we did from time to time on our journey before.
I could have kept one arm wrapped around her waist as we rode, had her slim body pressed up against mine and my chin tucked over her shoulder as if there was no way I could ever lose her again.
Of course, that would have worn Toast out much more quickly.
I can’t suppress a pang of regret all the same.
We pass through a clearing, and I nudge my gelding to keep pace. Ivy’s pale reddish-blond hair catches a glimmer of moonlight that looks almost like a flare of magic—and a different sort of pang lances right through the middle of me.
For an instant, my body seems to squeeze tight around me, cold and hard as the cooled clay before the scourge sorcerers brought my prison to life. My lungs ache with my next breath.
If something else happens to her—if I did lose her again—
I don’t know how I will continue to live.
I’ve been injured in this body. I’ve felt shame over actions that harmed my companions to the point that I considered destroying the form of conjured flesh that makes me almost human.
But I’ve never felt any pain like the agony of the past day, not knowing where Ivy was or what our enemies might be doing to her, not knowing if she was even alive herself after the story we heard from the royal children of how she defied her captors…
Is that the other side of the joy being with her brings me? Like the backlash that balances her magic, my delight in her must come with equal anguish?
Last night, there wasn’t anything I could do to cast off the frantic, searing emotions. They radiated all through my body, from the thoughts whirling in my head to the constricting of my throat to the listing of my stomach.
For the first time since I gained control over the body the scourge sorcerers made, it felt like a prison again. Just remembering the sensations gives me a chill.
I’d never been apart from Ivy for more than a few hours before, and then always by our own designs. I never realized the unsettled feelings that would rise up in her absence could become so much more intense.
Why do humans care so strongly about each other if the sensations can turn so debilitating?
I thought following Ivy wherever she went would ensure my freedom. I thought she was the path to escaping the torment the scourge sorcerers put me through.
But somehow the adoration that’s grown in me can lock me up and send me into harsher torments than I felt under our enemies’ sway.
That’s not her fault, though. It’s something in me.
And the only thing worse than knowing how my heart’s ties to her imprison me is the thought of having to go through that agony again.
So I keep glancing at her, checking for any sign of distress. I ride close even though it stirs up the unsettling memories, so I’ll be near at hand to leap to her defense if necessary.
I simply won’t let anyone wrench her away from me again, and then we can have nothing but joy.
Ivy peers over at Petra, the woman it seems is now supposed to be queen.
She’s the only one of us riding with company, I’ve noted more than once with a twinge of envy—her brother sits in front of her on a large stallion’s back, leaning into her arms with a droop of his head as if he’s a wilting flower.
The prince’s eyes have closed, his wan face gone slack. The royal children have been through plenty of agony of their own in the past day.
At least Ivy returned to me. Their parents are gone forever.
I wasn’t born, and I have nothing but revulsion for the people who trapped me with the intention of making me their slave, so I’m not sure what a regular human would feel toward a mother or a father.
From the few times she’s mentioned them, Ivy’s connection to her parents has seemed mostly unpleasant.
But clearly that isn’t always the case. Even if I don’t understand, I’m sorry these three have had to experience such a permanent loss.
Ivy keeps her voice quiet, I assume to avoid waking the prince. “What exactly will we need to do once we get to Florian? You said there’s proof of your claim to the throne?”
Petra’s mouth tightens, but she nods. “We expected that Father would be able to announce me and then there’d be no question…
But he kept a blood-sworn letter confirming my identity in a secure area of his private quarters.
We’ll want to retrieve that if possible.
I’m not sure what’s going on in the Palace of the Crown now. ”
Princess Klaudia shivers. “All our things—all Mother and Father’s things—they can’t just take our home…”
She trails off with a miserable expression.
“We’ll get your home back for you as quickly as we can,” Casimir says softly, but his worried expression tells me that he suspects “quickly” is probably not going to be very quick at all.
Petra’s tone firms. “Lothar and his followers won’t get away with their crimes.” She turns back to Ivy. “We can also reach out to the cleric at the Temple of the Crown who oversaw my dedication. She can vouch that I’m next in the royal line.”
Ivy lets out a rough chuckle. “That should be simpler than getting into the palace, at least.”
“What about all the soldiers?” Klaudia demands abruptly. “Aren’t they supposed to be loyal to us, not the traitors? They know Jacos and me, even if they won’t be sure of you right away. Why can’t we ride to one of the forts and get them to set things right?”
I know the horrible answer to that question. “There are daimon like me mixed in with the soldiers. But unlike me, the scourge sorcerers are still controlling them.”
Stavros grimaces. “Yes. The last thing I’d want to do is to lead you to a group of armed men and women with uncertain loyalties.
The scourge sorcerers wanted all of you dead, and it wouldn’t mean much to them to sacrifice a few of their captured daimon to see it happen.
Rheave can identify his fellow spirits, but only when they’re very close by.
We’ll reach out to the military presence near Florian, but we’ll have to be very careful about it. ”
Ivy looks over her shoulder at me, her brow knitting. “But maybe we won’t need to worry about the other daimon anymore. Lothar said that the woman who was controlling me had gotten ‘practice’ by directing the daimon. She’s dead now. Doesn’t that mean they’ll be as free as you are?”
My spirits lift momentarily at the idea that I might never have to worry about those bonds of magic yanking at me again.
They sink just as swiftly. “I don’t think it can all have been handled by just one scourge sorcerer.
There were so many of us. And they didn’t need to work their magic on us regularly.
The commands would linger for days after they took hold. ”
Alek has been taking in our conversation in silence.
He interjects with his usual scholarly precision.
“It must be much easier for them to manipulate people whose bodies they created and whose spirits they already harnessed than a regular person whose body is her own. And Ivy’s magic would have required so much more effort to contain.
That one sorcerer could have been in charge of hundreds of daimon who haven’t felt her renewed influence in a couple of days already. ”
Petra sighs. “But we can’t know how long the previous influence will last or whether other scourge sorcerers will enforce their will again. Ster. Stavros is right. We need to proceed with every possible caution.”
She glances down at her sleeping brother. “The consequences of a misstep would be far too great.”
We lapse into silence, broken a few minutes later by Casimir’s tentative question.
“Did you have any idea of Lothar’s intentions?
Obviously your father still trusted him up to the end, but now that he’s revealed himself—did anything show in his words or behavior, looking back, that might help us determine his next steps or how to undermine him? ”
“I never liked him,” Klaudia mutters. “He always talked like he thought he knew more than anyone else possibly could. And he tried to get the festival for Signy cancelled, because he insisted we shouldn’t be celebrating heroes from other countries.
But she helped all of us get free from the Darium empire! ”
Ivy hums to herself. “He does seem to be obsessed with doing things the ‘right’ way—his Order of the Wild is built on a vision of how Silana is meant to be and what would bring the All-Giver back.”
“He wants to rewind history to before Dariu ever invaded,” Alek says. “As if that was any kind of golden age.”
Petra frowns. “There were definitely things about him that rubbed me the wrong way, but even now, I can’t think of any warning signs we missed.
He always acted as if he wanted to support Father completely.
But then, I wasn’t around him very often after my dedication ceremony. I don’t know how much I missed.”
Stavros adjusts his grip on his reins, his expression grim. “He’s had access to some of the innermost levels of the country’s rulership. There won’t be much he doesn’t know how to manipulate. It’s no wonder we’ve found the conspiracy so difficult to rout out.”