57. Chapter 56 #2
There was hope in there too. Every time she felt a chill against her magic, only to find nothing, she now knew it was him watching her from his shadows.
When they fought in the greenhouse, their magic couldn’t wound each other.
If there was any possibility she and Silas shared the same strange magic bond she and Ezra did, maybe she could sway him to stop whatever was planned for her.
It might not work.
But it was all she had.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured.
She blinked, bringing her focus back into her body as quick tremors coursed through her. “Can you blame me?”
“I’ve seen you face worse than me.” He tilted his head, studying her as if he were trying to memorize every line of her face. “The hellhound, for example.”
“So that was you I saw.” Her brow raised. “How long have you been watching me exactly?”
The devilish smirk returned. But before he answered, he spun her away from him.
She twirled along the floor slowly, and took a deep breath before he pulled her back to him.
Her hand barely pressed against his chest before he tilted her back.
His hand splayed against her spine as he dipped her low, and she gasped as the tip of his nose brushed faintly against the crook of her neck.
“I’ve been watching you since you came to Arcania,” he whispered, and his lips grazed her skin. “You are truly captivating.”
The words would sound sweet if they were coming from any other mouth. Instead, they dripped with venom, and she swore at any moment he would sink his teeth into her neck to poison her.
She clenched her jaw as he pulled her back up to press their bodies tight to one another. Her hand wrapped around the back of his neck, her nails digging into his skin.
“Then you would know Ezra’s and my magic is bonded somehow,” she hissed. “It was the only way I was able to do that with the hellhound.”
“Yes,” he said, his voice at the edge of a growl. Was he…jealous? Maybe she could work with that.
“And we couldn’t physically hurt each other at the greenhouse,” she said quickly. “No doubt you tried to. As did I.”
“Right, once again.” The muscles in his jaw tightened, but he continued to move them in time with the music.
“So it only stands to reason we could share the same bond,” Ivy said. “Whatever it is you’re wrapped up in, we can put a stop to it if we use our magic together an—”
“No,” he said, his voice so dark it almost seemed…not his own. He came to a halt, causing her to stumble against him.
“Silas.” She stared into his eyes, which had somehow grown darker. She needed to reason with him. “Please. Ezra loves you, and if he does, that means there is good inside of you an—”
Silas laughed darkly before leaning in closer to her. “For once, you are wrong. There is no good. There is no love. And you know neither of us like you think you do.”
“You’re lying.” She trembled in his arms, her heart wrenching at what was likely her only plan falling apart.
“I’ve never lied to you, Ivy. You only saw what you wanted to see.” He took a step back from her, his hands falling from her body, and a sickly warmth washed over her.
“That’s bullshit,” she seethed, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.
“Dancing with you was a mistake.” His voice was his own again, but weaker. He took a few more steps back before disappearing into the crowd.
Fuck.
Two hours had passed since she last saw Silas, and the room had only gotten more crowded.
People drunkenly danced at the center, or made out on the edges.
Some snuck off, likely to take part in more scandalous activities.
But she remained at the table, waiting for something to happen.
She rapped her fingers against it and sighed, peering out the window next to her.
The others should be in the small alley between Linden and Hemlock so they could chase her when she ran.
Someone nearby cleared their throat, and she turned her attention away from the frosted glass. The man before her, dressed in the pink tuxedo jacket the party staff wore, held out a silver tray with a filled wineglass on it.
“From our host,” he said, taking the drink from the tray and placing it on the table in front of her.
She gave her thanks, and once he walked away, she eyed the wine closer.
It was deep burgundy, filled only halfway up the bowl.
She grabbed the stem of the glass and swirled the liquid around.
Once. Twice. And a third before tipping it into the beam of white light.
Drops of wine slid along the sides, gravity pulling them back to the pool at the bottom.
And in those drops was the iridescent shine.
She searched the room for him. When she finally found him across the room, he was already watching her, and she winced as a sliver of ice pricked her ankle. He tipped his drink in her direction in a silent toast. Then, with a deep breath, she took the first sip of her wine.
It was sweeter than most red wines. Perhaps it was because she knew what was in it. If she hadn’t known, she never would have guessed. Her jaw clenched, and she glared at Silas. Her magic churned inside her, like fire, blazing hot as if it were goading her to boil over.
The glass shattered in Silas’s hand, and he yelped. She stumbled back against the stone wall, her brows rising as the fire sizzled out. Silas barked an order to someone nearby as he exited through the door to the hallway with small streams of blood trickling down his palm.
She drained the rest of the wine over the next ten minutes. Ivy stared at the empty glass. The sweet taste of berries lingered on her tongue, but now that she’d drunk it all, another flavor sat at the back of her throat. An earthiness that hinted at something more sinister.
She dropped the glass onto the table, her head swimming, before stumbling her way through the crowd to get to the bathroom.
A group of women burst through the hallway door, their laughter like knives in her skull.
She slipped through the door after they passed, and the hall moved in gentle waves, making her seasick even though she was nearly certain she was on dry land.
When she threw open the door to the bathroom, the metal handle banged loudly against the tile wall before closing behind her.
The bathroom was silent. She was alone. She stumbled over to the sink, twisting the handle to let the cold water rush over her hands before splashing some onto her face in hopes it would help her regain her senses.
When she rose from the sink, she wobbled backward.
She threw her hands out to catch herself before she could fall, her palms flattening against the toilet stall wall.
Her eyes blinked open, her vision blurry, and she pressed her hands into them to push it away.
Once the blur disappeared, she glanced in the mirror above the sink and screamed.
Someone who looked exactly like her was glaring over her shoulder, her face crazed with an inhuman smile.
She spun around to find nobody there. “What the fuck?” she hissed, trying to steady herself against the stall.
When she turned back to the mirror, the bathroom transformed.
The pale blue tile and intrusive overhead lighting were gone, and a forest was in their place.
Spongy moss and rough bark were beneath her hand where the stall had just been.
The mirror floated in the air in front of her, but there was no reflection.
The air crackled as the freezing cold settled in.
She patted herself down, and the silk dress glided around beneath her hands. “I’m still inside,” she muttered, closing her eyes and trying to calm her heavy breathing. Nausea climbed into her throat. Her fingers tingled. “Still inside. Still inside.”
“Are you sure?” a ghostly voice uttered.
Her eyes flew open and a masked figure, cloaked in shadows, stepped out of the mirror in front of her. She screamed again, slipping against the wet leaves beneath her feet before taking off in a run.
She didn’t dare look over her shoulder to check if she was being followed. The forest flickered between the dark woods and the hallway back in Belarune. On the path ahead was a break in the trees to her left.
It must be the stairs. The ones leading to the side exit, where the others, where Ezra would be waiting outside.
She turned at the break, trying to push herself harder.
But her limbs were growing tired. She gritted her teeth as she climbed over the rocks and fallen logs down a hill that only led farther into the forest.
“Ivy,” the voice called.
“No! Leave me alone,” she cried out, trying to run faster. Was she outside? She couldn’t tell anymore.
“Ivy.”
“Ivy.”
“We’re coming for you, Ivy.”
She sobbed as more voices joined the first. Branches scratched against her face, catching on her clothing, and the icy wind battered her. Where was the way out? Where was Maeve? Liam? Ezra?
Her legs grew heavy. Her arms flailed at her sides as she lost the strength to move them.
“No,” she croaked, as if her voice was also waning. Her knees locked, and she crumpled face-first onto the cold ground.
The antidote. Even if she couldn’t see it, it had to still be there.
She was only in an illusion. She willed the last of her strength into moving her arm.
But, just like the earth beneath her, it froze before she got the chance.
A series of footsteps crunched in the dirt and leaves around her.
And the last thing she saw was a person wearing a long red cloak and a porcelain mask hovering over her.