Chapter 7
It only takes me a few minutes to get the room put back together. Lugging around the mattress by myself was the only real challenge, but I was able to get it sorted. The binding on my foot helped me walk with only a slight limp.
I have the clothing Ziv brought and the broken plate with remnants of food separated into two neat piles—one on the floor and the other folded on the bed. I’ll admit to being a little enamored by the soft textiles he brought and marveling at the idea that they seem to be for me, but with that thought came the price of such goods. Surely he expects repayment, and I have nothing to give in return, so there’s no way I can accept them.
As the moments tick by without Ziv’s return, I begin to relax and analyze what happened this morning and, more importantly, what set him off and why he thought I had company. The way he flipped the bed is almost like he thought there would be someone hiding underneath it, but I have no idea why he would think that.
There’s no knock, no warning at all, before the door opens and Ziv strides in. His expression is still pinched. If I had to guess, the talk between him and Kage didn’t go well, but at least I only need to deal with him again. I get to my feet as he looks around the room suspiciously.
“I picked up,” I tell him to waylay any question he might have about someone else being here and doing it.
“I see that,” he grumbles. “Come on, there are some things I need to show you.” He tilts his head ever so slightly, indicating I should move toward the door. I hastily grab my boots and force my feet inside, ignoring the pain from the new cut and older wounds from blisters.
“Where are your socks? Do those even fit you?” He’s getting more and more aggravated by the moment, and I can’t do anything to prevent it.
“They are what I have,” I answer truthfully.
I watch his left hand ball into a fist before he grumbles a string of words under his breath I can’t make out, but I understand the sentiment. “Take them off,” he orders, then ducks his head out the door and bellows, “Bring me some fucking socks!” I’m not certain, but I think I feel the walls vibrate, or maybe it’s just me trembling. I kick my boots off as fast as I can and toss them toward the wall.
Within a matter of minutes, there are people at the door, doing their level best to peer into the room around Ziv, but they are also handing him bundles of socks. My heart constricts in my chest. I’m pretty sure they are for me, but again, I have nothing to trade and no way to pay.
“That’s enough,” he announces, then slams my door, making the walls rattle. The collection in his arms is overflowing, and he drops socks like breadcrumbs as he approaches me.
I’m shaking my head before he even offers. “I can’t pay for them.”
He leans close to me, so his nose is barely inches from mine, and I hold my breath, but I don’t back away. “I’m willing to bet you already have tenfold, little flower, and when I get a hold of your father…” His words trail off, but the menace in his gaze doesn’t end. “I don’t want to hear you mention payment for anything again, you understand?”
I roll my lips in. I do understand, I’m not dumb. I just can’t make that promise. Stupidly, I tell him as much. “I don’t have funds, and I’m not willing to trade my body, not if I have a choice.” The last part comes out weakly, because when have I ever had a choice in anything?
Ziv’s eyes flare wide, and the mercury hues in his irises erupt into a fiery show, twisting and turning in a furious dance. I feel his hand on the back of my neck right before the wads of socks drop to my feet. That weird feeling from the infirmary returns with a vengeance, making my entire body tingle. It’s not entirely unpleasant, but it’s foreign and unexpected.
My breath catches, and my heart misfires in a weird way. I think I’m having a heart attack. Can you really die from fear? Is that what’s happening to me? Ziv’s eyes close slowly, and he takes a deep breath, exhaling through his nose. We’re so close, I feel the heat coming off his skin, but what I don’t feel is any draining from him trying to use his ability against me.
The thudding of my heart finds a steady rhythm again and begins pounding against my chest. I want to shuck off his touch, to be rid of this feeling that seems to only be getting heavier, but I don’t move, and I can’t explain why either.
“I think…there’s…something…wrong with…me,” I pant just above a whisper before I pass out.
She drops like a stone, but I catch her easily, wrapping my arm around the back of her waist and keeping a grip on her neck. It’s clear by her reaction she has no idea what’s happening to her, to us, and I’m not ready to tell her.
While she’s passed out, probably from her senses being overloaded, I take the opportunity to run my nose along the smooth line of her neck, inhaling her scent—the scent that is uniquely designed to appeal to me in every way, which is why I flipped the fuck out when I could smell the demon in her room. I should have known by the way he reacted to her yesterday something was off, but I was too caught up in my own thoughts to address it, which brings us to where we are now—she’s passed out in my arms, with neither of us closer to claiming her for two completely different reasons.
When she inhales sharply, I lower her to the bed and pretend I wasn’t just breathing her in like a man starved for air. It takes effort to stand back and put distance between us, but if I have any hope of walking away from her without staking my claim, then this is just the beginning of my torment.
Briar’s eyes snap open with alertness. There’s no slow welcome back to reality or easing into the moment. Her head shifts, and her golden eyes find me across the room. She blinks once before sitting up and smoothing her hand down her face. “Waking up in a strange place for unknown reasons is getting kind of old,” she mumbles.
“Are you still feeling ill?” I question, knowing she wasn’t unwell. She was overwhelmed by the bond between us, and I doubt it’s going to lessen anytime soon.
I watch her shake out her hands and stretch her body before she answers, “No.”
“We should get going then. There’s a lot we need to go over.” And I need to get you off that bed before I join you.
Without missing a beat, she tosses her legs over the side of the bed and gets to her feet. I pick up a pair of bundled socks and pitch them in her direction. When they smack into her cheek and she winces, I actually feel horror at the fact that I didn’t warn her. She doesn’t see the look of dismay on my face, because she just bends down and plucks them off the floor, then pulls them onto her feet.
“I’ll find you some new boots while we’re out.”
“Should I…” She glances over at the boots on the floor, and I shake my head in denial. I can’t watch her cram her feet into those shoes, knowing they are way too small, nor can I pretend I didn’t see the blisters and calluses they’ve already left behind.
When I jerk the door to her room open too quickly, it slams into the wall and cracks the plaster. Her shoulders hunch, but other than that, she doesn’t acknowledge my fumbling. She is a little slow to trail after me, keeping more distance between us than I can allow.
My instinct tells me to grab her hand and haul her to my side, but I get a little tighter grip on my desire, and instead, I look at the empty space beside me and say, “Do you plan on joining me or trailing in my wake?” I half expect her to hustle right over, but she watches me for a long moment, proving she’s leery of me. Almost reluctantly, she pads forward, still keeping too much space between us in my opinion, but I’ll have to live with it for now.
My shoulders stiffen as we turn the corner, leaving behind the quiet hall where my room resides. I thought being beside Ziv was making me uncomfortable, but this just proves it can always be worse. There are several people milling about, though not nearly as many as last night, when I felt like I was walking the gauntlet, but still more than I would like. Worst yet, they all seem to have their eyes trained on me. Whispers not quiet enough to ignore reach my ears, and I find myself inching close to the giant at my side.
Ziv, for his part, saunters through the corridor as if he doesn’t even notice the gazes cast in our direction, or maybe he’s used to having everyone’s attention, whereas I’m not and I hate it. At least they get the hell out of his way when he moves, which is more than I can say for myself. When we leave the dorms and the prying eyes behind, I cast a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure no one is actually following us. The sigh I release is audible, causing Ziv to peer over at me.
“It’s not wise for you to be out on your own for now. I will be escorting you.”
“Where?” pops out of my mouth before I realize I’m saying it out loud.
“Everywhere,” he answers stoically. I will certainly be making even more of an effort to stay in my room with that information. I don’t need to get on the god’s bad side. He grabs a door and swings the thing open, directing me to walk ahead of him with a tilt of his head, announcing, “The mess.”
It’s only then that I realize I wouldn’t know how to get back here if I tried. I spent all my time analyzing him and the other residents. I need to get out of my own head.
The mess is big, bigger than any of the pubs back home by twice the measure, and the smell is like something out of a dream. My mouth starts to water, even before the pang of hunger hits me. My stomach, not one to be left out, grumbles loudly soon after.
“Come on.” Ziv heads toward the back wall, avoiding the groupings of tables dotted around the space and zeroing in on the containers of food being kept warm by small blue flames. When he hands me a plate and tells me to fill it up, I almost cry from the mere notion, but good sense kicks in, and I shuffle my feet nervously.
“Uh,” I hedge quietly, then look around to see who else is close enough to hear what I’m about to say. We definitely have some attention, but it’s not outright gawking like the halls in the dorm. I lean a little closer to him anyway, and he bends to accommodate me even further. “I can’t pay for this,” I remind him quietly while pushing the plate back in his direction.
He turns his head slowly so we’re almost eye to eye and intones, “You pay for nothing, not ever again, not with money or any other means.” Heat blossoms on my cheeks so fast, I can’t even pretend to hold his gaze, so I drop my eyes to the floor. A thick finger tilts my chin up when I don’t respond. “Did you hear me, little flower?”
I nod because my throat is too tight to speak, and I know he wants an answer.
“Good. Don’t speak of it again and fill your plate.” Ziv’s shoulders roll as he stands up. I’m too ashamed to look around, but I catch a glimpse of him surveying the room over my head.
My mind is working overtime as I place small spoonfuls of each item on my plate until I can’t discern between the dishes and the plate is mostly full. When I reach the end of the line, I turn to see Ziv, who has a plate mounded much higher than my own.
He takes the lead, guiding me over to a table tucked into an alcove that makes it harder to be seen by most of the other tables. It’s like a weight is lifted off my shoulders, making my limbs feel all squishy and loose, so I nearly collapse into the oversized wooden chair when I reach it.
Ziv sets his plate down but doesn’t join me. Instead, he walks away and leaves me alone. I’m not sure if I’m grateful for him abandoning me or not, but I don’t really want to examine that thought either.
I start picking at my plate, trying different bites of this and that until I have a firm idea of what I actually like and what I’ll just eat because it’s there and I don’t want to be wasteful. When my escort finally returns, it’s with two silver tankards in one fist. The amber liquid sloshes onto the table when he places them down rather roughly. His thick fingers brush at the beer as if he’s embarrassed he spilled it, but then he takes the seat beside me, dismissing the mishap.
“After you eat, we’ll get your training schedule.”
The food in my gut turns to lead with his words, and I work to swallow the suddenly dry as sawdust bite. “What kind of training?” I croak out after a big draw of the sour liquid he pushed toward me.
“Don’t know, it’s not up to me.”
“Who’s it up to?” Certainly not me. If I had any choice, I wouldn’t be here at all.
“Syrinx.”
“The headmistress.” I recall what he told me last night.
He hums in a way that could be an affirmative.
I use my fork to push around some of the food left on my plate before forcing myself to eat another bite. I might as well fill my belly while I have the chance. “Aren’t you going to eat?” I question as his food grows cold.
“I got it for you,” Ziv answers without looking at me.
“For me? I can’t eat all that. This is already more than I eat most weeks.” I point to my own plate.
“In a week?” He finally peers over at me, his eyes narrowed in what I can only assume is doubt.
“Sometimes two!” I fork in the last bite to clean my plate. My gut is already bloated, but I’m not going to complain. What I would like to do is take a nap though. There’s nothing that makes me sleepier than a full belly, not that I’ve experienced it often.
Ziv grumbles something under his breath that sounds a lot like curses before he drags the plate closer to him and begins eating the food with a quickness that should surprise me but doesn’t. I’m sure someone his size has to refuel often. I spend the few minutes it takes him to eat avoiding looking in his direction, which means I get really familiar with the ceiling and walls of the stone structure.
When I hear his fork drop against the scarred wood tabletop, I instinctually glance his way. “Ready?” He’s already getting to his feet.
“Not really, but that never matters,” I mutter and push my chair in. Ziv’s head snaps in my direction, proving he heard me, but he doesn’t comment.
I pay more attention to where we are going when we leave the mess, but I highly doubt it will do me much good. This place is massive, with blind corners and dead ends at every turn. I’m wondering if he’s trying to confuse me. In fact, I’m almost certain of it when we go up a flight of stairs just to go down another at the end of a hall. By the time we reach a massive set of black doors, inlaid with protection runes, I’m breathing heavily from keeping up with Ziv’s long-legged stride. On a good note, I don’t feel like my food is creeping back up my throat anymore.
Ziv faces me before he opens the door as if he’s about to say something, but he seems to change his mind at the last moment and just hauls the door open, revealing yet another expansive room with a sleek black desk stationed in the middle and a pretty woman with light hair perched behind it. Her eyebrows lift, but her eyelids seem to lower at the same time, giving her a sultry look.
“How may I help you, Ziv?” Her voice is a husky rasp that instantly makes me feel like I’m intruding.
“Syrinx is expecting us,” Ziv replies flatly, keeping his gaze focused straight ahead on a set of doors that match those we just walked through.
“Let me see if she’s ready for you.” The female behind the desk rises slowly and struts over to the door on sky-high heels. I can’t help but look down at my own tattered pants and socks, which are at such odds with her fitted skirt and crisp shirt. I look and feel like a barn rat. I haven’t even brushed my hair in days. I hastily scrub my shirt sleeve over my mouth while her back is turned, just in case I have some of my breakfast on my face.
Ziv, for his part, remains stoically still next to me. I wish I would have asked him what to expect so I could have prepared myself, but I doubt it would have mattered. The female finally reaches the doors and knocks softly, then she waits a few seconds before opening a door a crack and leaning her head in. “Ziv is here to see you,” she says in a much more restrained voice than she used with Ziv.
“See them in,” comes from behind the door, which seems to be the only prompting Ziv needs to get moving. I stumble forward, following him without instruction. My gaze goes directly to the severe-looking female standing not ten feet from me. Her dark hair is pulled back tightly from her face and secured in a bun at the base of her neck, making her hawkish features seem even more harsh. Her eyes are black as pitch, but I only catch a glimpse of them as I lower my gaze to her long, thin neck.
I get the impression this room is even larger than the one just outside, but I don’t risk looking around, so it’s hard to know for certain. What I do know is Ziv distanced himself from me the moment my feet became rooted to the floor.
“Hello, Briar,” she greets in a raspy voice that feels genuine, unlike the female who announced us.
“Hello,” I reply mostly out of habit. I don’t even realize my palms are sweating until I find myself rubbing them on my pants.
“I’m Syrinx, the headmistress of the institute.” Her chin dips into my view while she speaks, making me think she’s trying to capture my gaze, but I keep my eyes locked on her neck. I do not need her thinking I’m challenging her in any manner. “Why don’t you have a seat? Ziv, you’re free to go.”
I catch myself just as I’m about to look over and plead for him not to leave me, knowing it would be a stupid request. Instead, I cross my ankles and bend my knees as I begin to lower myself to the floor. A tight grip on my arm stops me mid-movement.
“I’ll stay,” Ziv announces and guides me over to a chair in front of the desk before snapping, “Sit in the chair.”
I don’t miss the exchange of looks that pass between Syrinx and Ziv as I place my hands in my lap after my butt hits the wooden seat, but I’m adept enough to know to pretend. Ziv eventually takes up residence behind me, somewhere out of sight, while the headmistress takes her seat behind the desk. I don’t have to see her face to know she’s examining me. I can feel it. My skin is almost crawling with the need to get away, but I sit still, barely breathing. I have a giant at my back and a snake at my front who seems more than ready to strike. I know which of them I fear more, and it isn’t Ziv. I shouldn’t trust him, but I’m beginning to, even if it’s stupid to do so.
“How much do you know about Ivy, Briar?” The way she says my name feels deliberate, like she’s pretending we already know each other.
“Not much,” I hedge. I know they train the elite to be better, but I don’t know why or how.
She nods as if she expected as much. “Ivy Institute is the best training facility Osier has to offer, in staff and novices.”
I nod once to acknowledge the fact.
“We have been looking for someone with your…particular talents for a long while.”
“I’ve never heard anyone call what I do a talent.”
“That surprises me.” Syrinx sounds genuine, but I still don’t buy it. She’s buttering me up. I saw people do it to my father all the time if they thought it would earn them a favor. When the seconds tick by without me responding to her nicety, she changes tactics. “Although maybe it shouldn’t surprise me, not if the stories of how your father used you are true.”
The food in my stomach swirls, making me feel nauseous. I have no doubt she intends to use me the same way.
“Did he really allow those people to try to use their abilities on you and not train you to harness all your talents?” Her words catch me off guard, and I look up to meet her eyes. A small grin curls her lips in victory. “Did you know there is likely much more you can do, other than render those who try to use their abilities against you powerless?”
“Like what?” I’m skeptical, and she hears it.
“I’m not certain. As I said, it’s been a long time since we’ve encountered one such as you, but I would be happy to help you find out.”