20. Chapter 19 #2
She sighed, trying her best to ignore his blatant flirtation. Whether it was real or simply a diversion from something, she wouldn’t give in to it. “What do you mean, if we’re going to find out what happened?”
“Between what you said in the library and the police banging on my door, I thought…what if you’re right? What if something worse happened to Callum? What if he ends up dying like your friend last year?”
Her stomach dropped. She stared at her feet at the mention of Briar. He didn’t know she might be alive. Technically, Ivy didn’t know either. She only had some letters and an unsolved cipher to go on, which could’ve been written at any point before she disappeared.
“But if you’re sneaking into a professor’s office, you must have reason to believe there was foul play, right?” he asked.
She turned to face him again, trying to search his face for any trace of a lie. But his eyes were calm, like the water of the lake, and his jaw, lined with stubble, tensed. If he were trying to trick her, maybe he would be completely relaxed?
“Why should I trust you?”
“I’m not asking you to divulge everything.” He straightened on the bench, his arm, which was stretched along the back, coming to rest on his lap. “I think we can help each other. After all, look at what our magic can do when we work together. I know you can feel it, too.”
Her gaze narrowed. “What’s in it for you?”
“If something worse did happen to Callum, I’m probably suspect number one, right? Even though I have an alibi, should the police be trusted if they fumbled the investigation for your friend?”
“Only to save yourself, then?” she asked. She wasn’t entirely surprised, but she didn’t believe that was his whole motive.
“Wouldn’t you do the same if the positions were reversed?” He shrugged. “Besides, they may look at you too, considering they found us together.”
“I guess I can understand.” There was a nagging, irritating pulse at the back of her brain. Maybe her brain was retaliating for agreeing with Ezra on something. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Trust goes both ways, Ivy.” He shifted in his seat, grabbing his cup from the ground before sitting back up. “I’m not lying to you. But the sooner we work together, the faster we build that trust and, hopefully, find out what happened.”
She took a long sip of her coffee, the liquid now lukewarm on her tongue.
Despite the lack of trust, she wasn’t sure how long she could go without someone helping her.
Maeve would probably be willing if Ivy opened up about it fully, but…
having it be Ezra made sense. It was almost as if finding Callum’s ring bound them together in this mystery.
“Okay.”
He blinked slowly, as if her agreement was the last thing he expected. “Okay?”
“Don’t make me change my mind.” She rose from the bench, and Ezra followed. “When will you be finished with classes today?”
“Last class ends at six-thirty over at Battson.”
“Over in the School of Constructs?” she asked. She didn’t know much about that area other than that there was a building dedicated solely to a robotics laboratory.
“I’m majoring in mechanical engineering, mostly focused on the properties of both arcane and mundane materials and their manipulation.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Didn’t expect me to be handsome and intelligent, did you?”
“If by handsome and intelligent, you mean insufferable, then yes, I did expect that.”
He threw his head back with a laugh. “You’ll warm up to me at some point, Snapdragon.”
“Don’t count on it,” she retorted, walking back in the direction of Sequoia Hall.
But dammit, a smile was coming to her face.
She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing her mouth into a neutral position before looking over at him.
“Meet me on the path back to Embry after class? Mine ends at the same time in Galraine. Maeve’s ends at seven, so I’ll show you what I have so far. ”
He regarded her with an unreadable expression in his eyes. But a moment later, he blinked, and it was replaced with his typical roguish demeanor. “It’s a date.”
She groaned. “Not a date.”
Ivy stood at the intersection of Intellect and Constructs, waiting for Ezra to finish his class.
Her professor ended ten minutes early since nobody had questions about the assignments.
She paced in a small circle as she waited, thinking of what assignment to work on later when she noticed a spot of black from the corner of her eye.
She stopped and looked back. On one of the benches near Warfare’s buildings ahead, was someone dressed in all black with their hood drawn, obscuring their face.
Her stomach twisted as they turned to stare right at her, and her magic pricked at her skin.
Was she actually being followed? Were they the ones who wrote the letters? She rubbed her eyes, but when she opened them again, the bench was empty. Someone to her right called out her name, and she jumped. But it was only Ezra.
“You alright?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go.”
When they got back to the apartment, she slid her bag off next to the coffee table before going to her bedroom.
She rummaged through her desk and pulled out the essay and the letters she’d received.
Could she trust him enough to show him, though?
What would Briar do if she were in Ivy’s place?
She’d probably use him to her benefit. Maybe that was the best approach.
She left her bedroom, joining Ezra, who was now sitting on the couch, and laid everything she had out on the coffee table in front of them so she could run through it all with him.
“If Briar were still here, why would she make it this hard to find her?” he asked once she finished explaining. He picked up the essay to study the different symbols. “It’s like she’s making it a game.”
“I don’t know,” Ivy said, chewing her bottom lip. “She would make her own ciphers all the time to hide secrets or toy with people she didn’t like. She always wanted to create one with her own method.”
He placed the paper back on the table and fell back against the back of the couch. “Not that I don’t believe you when you say she’s alive…but are you entirely sure these letters are from her?”
She pulled at the one she received with her acceptance and the one from her assessment. “These match the handwriting from her essay; she must’ve written them.”