Chapter 36
Ivy
The cart thumps along the uneven country road, jostling me where I’m leaning against one of the walls. The rectangular space feels oddly empty with nothing in it except the four of us passengers while Casimir steers the horses.
But the afternoon air breezes over me with the fresh, tart scents of new growth, speaking of the spring that has almost reached us. It settles my nerves, though just a little.
I’m far too aware of the glass vials tucked into the pouch on my belt. The vials I asked Petra to obtain if she could, that she handed me shortly before we set out.
I have to talk to my men about them and everything else they need to be prepared for. I just haven’t been able to bring myself to yet.
There’s plenty of time still. Hours left in the day.
But with each passing minute, my stomach clenches a bit tighter.
Stavros sits all the way at the back of the cart, craning his neck one way and the other to scan our surroundings for potential threats. I suspect the former general would be happier on horseback, able to control his own movements, but he hasn’t complained.
We want to look as innocuous as possible. Just a simple band of travelers bearing cargo. The magic Tinom impressed into the cart before we left should divert anyone who isn’t specifically looking for us.
Of course, there are quite a few people out there who are specifically looking for us. Or rather, for me.
Just in the past two days as Petra’s growing assembly of allies scrambled to prepare everything we need for the kingship trials, two small delegations sent by nearby counts arrived at the baron’s residence supposedly to “check in” and see how the baron and his people are faring. From what I heard, they were snooping as much as they could get away with, watching for anything suspicious.
It”s annoying that the baron might have been a little right to remove me from the premises, but mostly I’m glad that no one picked up on Petra’s presence there.
There’s been more activity on the lands around our patch of forest as well, packs of riders trotting by at random intervals. We haven’t ventured out of the forest to greet them, so I have no idea what they’d have said their purpose was, but whenever one of my men mentioned noticing the passersby, my skin crawled.
Pretty much all of Silana hates the riven—far more than they hate the scourge sorcerers they only have the vaguest of ideas about. Plenty of civilians would have been unnerved by the accusations we made against Lothar but uncertain of what to believe and what to do about it. Now he’s given them a target for their apprehension that has nothing to do with his Order.
And an opportunity to take action while earning the tyrant’s favor at the same time.
If all goes well, we can end the chaos he’s created tomorrow.
I close my eyes for a few minutes, simply absorbing the spring scents and the rhythmic creak of the wheels. My nerves are too jumpy for me to fully relax.
“Are you sure the message will have gotten to your parents—and they’ll have followed through?” I ask Alek, who’s got his legs sprawled out across from me.
The scholar’s expression turns pensive, but he nods. “They’ve delivered on every other request Petra’s made. We indicated that this would be the last one and that she was pleased with their service. I can’t imagine them letting the opportunity to become the royal weapons suppliers slip through their fingers when it’s almost in their grasp.”
“Even if that means associating with someone who allies with riven sorcerers?”
He meets my eyes more firmly then. “They’ll only have gotten that news by hearsay—and they’re already committed to Petra. At this point, I’d be incredibly surprised if they did anything other than dismiss it as negative propaganda and focus on what lines their coffers.”
He sounds so certain that a little of the tension in me unwinds. Alek may not get along with his parents, but he does know them. He wouldn’t have set us on this course if he thought there was any chance it’d put me in danger.
Well, more danger than I’m already in, which seems to be a bit much even by typical standards.
Stavros lets out a rough breath. “I’m still not convinced this is the wisest idea. We don’t need to make it easier for our opponents to cut us to pieces.”
“We’re ensuring they won’t be opponents,” Casimir pipes up from the front of the cart. I can’t see his face, but there’s a smile in his voice. “And then they can cut up anyone who does decide to play that role.”
Stavros makes a noncommittal sound. He’s been the most doubtful about the courtesan’s plan since Casimir first suggested it.
I stretch out my foot to give his knee a teasing tap. “It’s not as if we won’t want arms for our confirmed allies to defend the trials. We don’t need to make a final decision until people start gathering and we can gauge their mood.”
The massive man lowers his head in acknowledgment. “Sometimes you can’t know the best strategy until you’re in the thick of the battle.”
I’m not sure I’ll get a better opening.
I hesitate for a few seconds, partly hoping one of the others will add something else. But saying this isn’t going to get any easier.
“There’s something else we should talk about,” I blurt out, and pause to collect myself so my next words come out more calmly. “Lothar and his followers are going to do whatever they can to tear down Petra tomorrow. You all must realize that there’s a good chance I’ll have to use a lot of magic to ensure we see the trials through. I don’t know how it’ll affect me.”
Casimir reins in the horses and turns on his seat to face the rest of us. A shadow has crossed his face. “What are you saying, Ivy?”
I think he already knows.
Stavros’s expression has hardened with resolve. “We’ll have all our supporters there from every source we could draw from. It won’t come down to you.”
I force myself to meet his gaze, as painful as this conversation is for both of us. “Not necessarily. But it very well could. I’m the final line of defense, and there’s no reason to assume Lothar won’t manage to push that far. If it comes to that and I start to lose control, you need to act immediately—whoever’s closest, whoever can do what needs to be done.”
“Ivy,” Alek starts in a rough voice.
I shake my head before he can fully protest and pull out the vials to show them. The milky liquid inside gleams in the sun. “Petra was able to get these for me. It’s a strong sedative. Put me to sleep if you can manage to safely, to see what can be done for me later. But if you can’t get the drug into me… I’d rather die than destroy anything we’ve worked for. Please.”
My gaze slides across the faces of the men I love. Stavros has tensed so much he might as well have become a statue. Rheave’s beautiful face has sallowed, his lips pressed together as if against the urge to vomit. Alek is simply staring, and Casimir works his jaw in silence.
“Please,” I say again. “If I’m far enough gone that I can’t restrain myself, ending my life is the kindest thing you could do for me. I’m trusting you not to let me become the sort of riven sorcerer they tell horror stories about.”
Stavros’s throat bobs with a thick swallow, but he nods, his hand on his sword as if echoing his promise. His voice comes out hoarse. “You couldn’t be, Ivy. You’re proving you’re not simply by asking this.”
He leans forward to accept one of the vials.
As Rheave watches it pass between our hands, a shudder ripples through his body.
I catch the daimon-man’s gaze. “I know you don’t want to lose me, but if my magic completely breaks my mind, I’ll already be lost.”
He considers me, his eerie eyes gone solemn. “If there’s any other way, I’ll take it. But I won’t let you become something horrible.”
Alek opens his mouth and closes it again. He presses his hand to his forehead. “I—I don’t want to think about it. I understand that we have to, though. I won’t let you down, Ivy.”
Casimir pushes toward me to hold out his hand. “I might have the best chance of getting the sedative into you, by judging your mood.”
I hand the second vial over and firm my voice. “If you can’t, if I won’t let you?—”
He dips his head. “I know. I can do that kindness for you if there’s no other choice.”
Stavros opens his mouth to speak again, but at the same moment, Rheave jerks straighter in the corner where he was lounging. “I hear something. Other horses… coming this way.”
Casimir swivels to grab the reins. We’re just coming up on a low hill—it’s impossible to see what’s on the other side.
As soon as we all fall silent, a faint clopping reaches my ears, getting louder in the several seconds while my pulse hammers at my ribs.
Then a voice lifts, also distant but still audible. “That tree over there looks kind of strange, huh? You think a riven could’ve done that?”
My spine goes rigid.
Casimir’s head whips around, scanning our surroundings. He nudges our horses off the road.
While it’s mostly open fields on our side of the hill, there’s a small patch of trees off to our right. It’s too densely clustered for us to pull the cart between them, but Casimir steers us in that direction.
The grassy terrain partly muffles the hoofbeats of our own animals. Tinom’s enchantment should divert attention from the noise too, at least a little.
I duck low, hoping the riven hunters are deep enough in their conversation that they don’t notice any sound that filters through the spell.
With an intent expression, Rheave picks up the bow he had tipped against the cart wall next to him and fits an arrow into it. I wince inwardly at his obvious intention.
How much more will the world hate me if we leave a trail of bodies in our wake? These people searching for me might not have done anything worse than believing what the Order said—which wasn’t entirely a lie—and wanting to protect their country.
The magic that’s made me a target squirms in my chest and shoots out through my limbs. It could cloak us from view completely like it did so many times when we were chasing the Order’s army weeks ago. It could send the hunters riding off in the opposite direction absolutely sure of their new destination.
It could erase them from existence so there were no bodies to be found at all. Like the guards at the palace in Regica. Like Lothar wanted me to do to the king and queen, to Petra and her siblings.
My hands clench against the boards beneath me at the memory.
I have to keep us safe to serve Petra now. But if I turn to my riven power for this, then what? More imaginary voices in my head, more delusions that even my allies are out to hurt me?
The mental effects of all the magic I expended earlier in our various journeys have faded as I’ve refused to use more, but I remember the viciousness of the worst panic with nerve-shuddering clarity. I need to save all the sanity I have left for our greatest challenge tomorrow.
I wind my imagined vine tight around me, holding my power in.
Casimir is urging the horses around the patch of trees. Soon the trunks will hide us from the road. As long as the hunters don’t spot the cart’s tracks and come over to investigate, we’ll be fine.
My breaths remain shallow as the courtesan brings the cart to a halt. Rheave stays poised with his bow even though we can barely make out the road from here, let alone get a clear shot.
Stavros unsheathes his sword. He shoots me a glance as if to reassure me that they’re prepared to defend me, whatever it takes.
As if the thought of my lovers getting hurt on my behalf makes me feel any better.
The hunters have stopped talking, but the hooves of their horses drum ever louder. It seems like no time at all before I catch a glimpse of the three of them cresting the hill.
It’s hard to focus on them when seeing them only through the tiny gaps between the trees. I make out one head of dark hair and another covered by a bright blue cap, cloaks wrapped around them in varying shades of brown, a speckled gray horse, one dark bay, and the third ruddy chestnut.
From what I can tell, their clothes and mounts are of good quality and in good condition. Not extravagant, but I’d guess they’re middle-class types, maybe merchants or craftsmen, taking a break from their regular work to chase the possible reward.
As we wait, crouched and silent, they continue by. Then the one on the bay draws his horse to a slower walk.
My heart skips a beat, and my magic flings itself at the barriers I’ve constructed against it.
They’re going to find us—I have to act now—I can picture them charging toward our hiding spot?—
I squeeze my jaw and my hands tight, resisting the wrenching of my power’s demands with all my will.
Whatever the man slowed to look at, it hasn’t caught his attention for long. He kicks his steed back to a trot, and he and his companions ride off down the road.
I have only a matter of seconds for relief to trickle into me before a spear of pain stabs through my middle.
I manage to clamp my lips against a gasp, but a faint whine seeps from my throat. I wrap my arm around my gut as if the external pressure can offset the agony inside.
My magic sears through me from chest to gut, sending a familiar series of jabs into my lungs and stomach. It’s pissed off at me, all right—getting impatient that I won’t let it loose like I’ve been willing to so recently.
It took a lot more time before it hurt me this badly in the past… but that was before it had a real taste of freedom. That was before I’d already pushed it to the brink of its patience.
I sag to the side. Alek darts across the cart to catch me before I slump right onto the floor.
A ragged breath catches in my throat. I muffle a sputter of a cough as well as I can—and stare at the red flecks that dabble my palm.
Oh. So we’re all the way back to this point, are we?
My power is literally tearing into my flesh.
Alek’s arm squeezes around me. As the pain finally ebbs, I become aware of Rheave staring over at us, his face taut with worry, his knuckles white where he’s gripping his bow.
His voice comes out in a strained whisper. “Did they do something to her?”
Alek shakes his head and helps me sit back up. “That looked like the fits she used to have at the college…” He peers into my eyes. “Your magic attacked you again?”
I nod, taking a moment before I’m sure I can speak steadily. I can barely hear the retreating hoofbeats now, but I keep my voice low to be safe. “It really wanted to protect us from those hunters. It’s lashed out a couple of times recently, but not this badly. I was hoping I’d have more time before I got to this point.”
A shadow has crossed Stavros’s face. “You’ll have even more reason to worry about protecting us—and Petra—during the trials. It could hurt you worse then if it gets riled up when you don’t need to step in.”
A flare of rebellion sparks in my chest in spite of everything. “If you’re trying to tell me I should hang back out of the way and not even?—”
He holds up his hand in surrender, an echo of our earlier conversation lingering in his solemn tone. “I know you wouldn’t accept that. But you could end up more vulnerable if your magic is attacking you right in the midst of the danger.”
Casimir has swiveled in his seat to join the conversation. “Isn’t that part of what your training with Sulla was about? Finding ways to avoid the backlash from holding the magic in?”
The thought of those early days, back before I’d experienced the other types of harm my magic could inflict on me, sends a pang like homesickness through my chest. “Yes. But the idea was that we extend just a little magic here and there to appease it, not enough that the madness would start to take hold. I’m past that point.”
Alek strokes his hand over my hair. “You’ve turned to it a couple of times since then for something small, and it doesn’t seem to have affected you too badly. If you followed the typical regimen, it might still work to keep you at status quo. No worse than otherwise, and without it lashing out.”
I wet my lips. “I guess I should probably give it a shot. At least to take the edge off before the trials.”
Petra needs me tomorrow. If I’m ever going to use my magic again in a major way, it’ll be to see her through our final stand against the scourge sorcerers. I can’t risk being incapacitated when it’s time to act.
It’s the only way I can prove to all the allies who’ve watched me with trepidation and fear whose side I’m really on. The only way I can make up for the damage I’ve done to her reputation.
The best way I can possibly serve her, whatever it does to me.
But as I look down at myself and around the cart, every part of my body balks. I’ve spent so long tamping down on my power, and I have even more reason to fear it now than I did before.
No possibility that flits through my mind feels right. All I’m left with is a knot in my gut.
“I don’t know what to do,” I admit quietly. “I don’t know what would be too much.”
Stavros’s expression softens. He takes one more glance over his shoulder toward the long-gone hunters and sheathes his sword before shifting closer to me.
When I raise an eyebrow at him in question, he rubs the scruff on his cheek with his hooked prosthetic. “I’ve been neglecting the razor since we changed accommodations. Removing a little hair seems like an awfully small act. You could give me a shave.”
I stare at him for a second, my thoughts whirling.
He’s accepted me as I am, he’s accepted my magic enough to let me bring him back from the edge of death, but somehow this small offer cracks open something inside me.
“Are—are you sure?” I have to ask.
The former general gives me his usual cocky grin. “I’m trusting that you like my face enough to avoid wrecking it.”
I can’t suppress a snort, even as my stomach twists tighter. But somehow having his permission—his request, even—makes the decision easier.
I scoot closer and rest my hand on the side of his face. The bristles of a few days’ growth of beard prickle against my palm.
Stavros watches me without a hint of hesitation or regret over his offer.
My gaze slides beyond the cart to the nearby trees and then the stretch of grassy field on the other side.
That should do. Take a fraction of an inch of growth from his face, send a patch of grass a fraction taller at the same time. A simple trade.
Inhaling deeply, I concentrate on both sides of the equation. I picture the tiny hairs shrinking down to his skin as the blades poke a little higher from the soil, gradually across his entire face.
When I lower my hand, Stavros’s jaw gleams clean-shaven. He touches it with his own fingers, and his grin returns.
“I don’t know why I ever bothered with a blade,” he says teasingly.
His casual warmth relaxes me even more. I crack a smile of my own and consider the simmer of magic inside me. “I think that should be enough.”
Casimir climbs into the base of the cart and sits next to me. “We should be sure, so you’ll be completely safe tomorrow.” He rests his hands gently on my lap, palms up. “The reins have left a little grit on my hands, and I’ve got nothing to wash it off with.”
A laugh tumbles out of me. It’s the tiniest of efforts he’s requesting. If he wants to be a part of protecting me too, I don’t see how it can hurt to humor him.
With a moment of concentration, I flick the dirt that’s dug into his palms with a whiff of breeze that’s echoed by an opposite puff up in the tree branches.
Alek hums and sidles close to me again. “I gave myself a papercut on my thumb yesterday. Only a shallow one, but it still stings a bit. If you’d be kind enough to seal it for me…”
A tickle of heat flows over my skin both at the increasing attention and the nearness of my lovers all around me. I take Alek’s hand in mine and find the tiny pink nick next to his thumbnail. “One more little thing. Just to be sure my magic is satisfied.”
I focus on his thumb and one of the boards forming the wall of the cart. As the skin smooths, the smallest crack forms along the grain of the wood.
That’s it. It’s done.
I hold myself still, alert for any disorienting thoughts or hallucinated sounds, but my mind stays quiet.
Watching me, Rheave gives a bit of a growl, but all I can hear in it is sorrow. “It’s sad that you can’t use your magic all the time like I can. When you do, when it’s to help someone, it lights you up.”
His tone is so tender in its frustration that it makes my heart skip a beat. I aim a smile at him and then around at the other three men who’ve given so much to stay by my side. “You light me up. All of you, just by being with me. I love you. No matter what happens to me tomorrow, I want you to always know that.”
If worse comes to worst tomorrow, which seems more likely than not, I may very well go mad. One of them might need to end my life before I destroy more than even Lothar has.
But it’s not tomorrow yet. We have at least this one last day together.
Rheave answers my statement first, dropping his bow and pushing across the cart to meet me. He cups my cheek and draws me into an emphatic kiss.
When our lips part, he nuzzles his nose against mine. His voice drops even lower with a heated edge that makes me shiver. “I want to see if my magic can make you happy.”
A tingle shoots straight to my groin. “What do you mean?”
Rheave trails his fingers down my arm, and a more concrete tingling races through my flesh. My breath catches.
He’s sent just the softest pulse of his conjured lightning into me.
A heated chuckle escapes Stavros. “I think our lady thief approves.”
Rheave beams and ducks his head to claim another kiss. As he does, his hand travels farther down to my hip.
A sizzling shiver darts from the warmth of his hand to the liquid heat pooling between my thighs.
As I kiss him back hard, I can’t hold back a whimper. It’s undeniably thrilling to become a vessel for his daimon energy, especially when he uses it to such skillful effect.
And there’s something wonderful in general about taking in magic that I don’t have to fear, that won’t bring me anything but pleasure.
When Rheave relinquishes my mouth to chart a scorching path down my neck, Casimir is waiting to capture my lips. Alek leans in to tug aside my cloak and press a kiss to my shoulder.
Stavros tangles his fingers in my hair and nips the back of my neck. “We have time for a little joy before the rest of the hard work.”
The daimon-man lets out an encouraging rumble. “To show our little vine how much we love her too.”
Casimir eases back and runs his thumb over my lips in a gesture that’s almost as provocative as his kiss. “Because we do love you, no matter what happens, no matter where we end up.”
Alek slings his arm around my waist to hug me tight. “Being with you will always have been worth it.”
Our strange makeshift family has survived so much. I can’t say I have any regrets either, not when I can’t be sure we’d all still be here if I’d made different choices to begin with.
And it’s getting awfully hard to think of anything at all other than enjoying their company with their mouths and hands moving over my body.
Casimir edges up my skirt, and Rheave slips his hand between my legs to set off another spark right at my core. I gasp and almost bite Alek’s lip, but he simply groans and kisses me harder.
Stavros dips his hand beneath the fabric of the plain bodice to fondle my breast skin to skin. Then he yanks at the lacing so he can drag the cloth down and expose the nipple to his seeking mouth.
The swipe of his tongue sets off another pulse of pleasure. I’m quivering with all sorts of sparks now, both magical and the kind any passionate caress can provoke.
I look after my men, and they look after me—in every possible way.
As Casimir teases my other breast, Rheave yanks at my underskirt and drawers. He grazes my sex with a series of tantalising tingles and makes a guttural sound low in his throat. “I want to be inside you, Ivy.”
Alek pulls away so I can yank my newest lover to me for an answering kiss. Rheave’s tongue darts over mine in a heady dance, and then he’s yanking at his trousers.
Stavros gives a rumble that thrums from his chest into mine. “I think she deserves another joint effort. You’ve never seen her doubly filled.”
A giddy jolt of anticipation shoots through my veins, and then he’s sweeping me onto his lap. As I help him wrench down his own pants, Casimir glides his hand over my ass and between my thighs.
The courtesan dips his fingers between my folds, setting off another rush of heady sensation. At my eager gasp, he spreads the slickness he gathered around my back opening.
“You want to make sure she’s ready for you,” he explains to Rheave in a honeyed tone, and delves a finger inside me to delightful effect. “Our bodies are capable of providing so much more enjoyment than the most obvious.”
Rheave’s voice is full of need. “I never realized— Do you want me like this too, Ivy?”
“Yes,” I mumble, my own desire burning through my limbs as Stavros rocks his rigid cock against my clit. “I want all of you, everywhere, always.”
With a choked chuckle, the daimon-man presses closer to me. I sink down over Stavros’s cock, and Rheave lines his up from behind.
I hold perfectly still as he slides into me. My nerves sing with the flood of mingling pleasures.
Stavros guides me up and down over his thick shaft. “You always feel so fucking good, Ivy. You can have it all, whenever you want. Just take it.”
I do, swaying between them. With him before me and Rheave behind me, I’ve never felt so full. So encompassed.
Then Alek dips his hand between me and Stavros. As the other two men rock with the blissful rhythm we’re building, the scholar swivels his thumb over my clit.
I whimper, the swell of pleasure drowning out every urge other than the need to buck to my release and clutch at the men around me. Only two are penetrating me, but all four of my lovers are part of this act, moving in concert.
Rheave and Stavros thrust home in tandem, and Casimir swallows my cry with a demanding kiss. I rock and grind between my men, caught up in wave after wave of bliss coursing through my body.
“That’s right,” Stavros murmurs into my ear with a brush of his lips. “Take it all the way, Lady Thief. We’re here to catch you when you careen over the edge.”
In their joint embrace, I do feel as if I’m flying wild.
Rheave plunges deeper, and Stavros drives into me at the perfect angle.
Alek’s thumb flicks faster. Casimir applies his teeth to my nipple.
The shock of so much pleasure crackles through me. I’m lit up from the inside out.
Then the daimon-man pours one more stream of his giddying power through my nerves, and I shatter apart.
My breath hitches, and my body quakes. I grip the arms around me and lock my legs against Stavros’s hips.
The former general slams into me with the shudder of his own climax. It only takes a few seconds more before Rheave gasps harshly and sways to a stop, bowing against my back.
He dapples my scars with the tenderest of kisses. “No one will ever hurt you like this again. Not while we’re here, and we always will be.”
We slowly sag together in a messy and rather sweaty heap. A warm glow of affection spreads through every inch of my sated body.
I love so much, and I’m loved in return. For who I am now, for what I’m doing now.
I’ve moved past the mistakes I made before. I can do something better, something good.
This is all the happiness I ever could have asked for, even if it ends tomorrow.