Ivy
I've never been more thankful for a heavy night's sleep in my life.
I don't know if it was the exhaustion from combat training with Baron, or the lack of sleep the night before, but for the first time in a long time, I woke up refreshed this morning, ready to face the day and see what it brings, even if it does involve returning to classes after dying. Again.
Do I feel nervous? A little, but it's not as bad as I expected it to be.
I've died twice, and something deep inside of me makes it clear it will happen again and again. Strangely, I don't fear it. The pain still lingers, like a memory forged into my limbs, but I'm not afraid, not of death itself, nor those who wish to cause it for me.
The reality is, I have to be mindful of any retaliation.
It seems killing me doesn't come with consequences, not on their end at least, it just causes me issues.
But if I was to return the sentiment, there'd be no coming back for them, and I can't figure out how that would make me feel.
Although, when my blood rages and burns hot, I'm curious to find out; consequences be damned.
I dreamed of heat, fire, and intense flickering flames all night, but now I stand before the mirror in my academy-issued uniform, looking no different than I did the first day I arrived at Neverbound Academy. Only now, I'm wiser. A little.
And not dressed in a tattered wedding dress, but I digress.
I don't look like a phoenix or a Fire Protector at all, except for my tie. I guess you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, but I feel it. All the way to the depths of my soul.
A knock sounds from the door, distracting me from my thoughts. Pressing my palm against the wood as I reach the entryway, I’m acutely aware that it's Archer on the other side, just from the scent that lingers in the air.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I reach for the handle, opening it to reveal the man himself.
His hair is swept back, obnoxiously maintained and as pristine as ever.
With his hands stuffed in his pockets, he rakes his eyes over me while I’m suddenly caught up in the words he left lingering in the air yesterday.
They threaten to steal my next breath again as I sink my teeth into my bottom lip.
Yesterday was raw and very real, and to my surprise, he didn't want or insist on a response. And although I can feel the presence of those words now, there's no elephant in the room along with them. It's just present; a permanent reminder.
Trying to shake off the tension that lingers in my limbs, I clear my throat, tugging at the collar of my shirt. “Is it warm in here?” I mutter, reaching for my backpack at the door, and Archer slowly shakes his head before his tongue creeps out along his bottom lip.
“Is it your body again?” he asks, invading my space as he places his palm against my forehead, a small lilt to the corner of his mouth.
“I can help if you—”
“I’m perfectly fine,” I interject, batting his hand away, and he steps back with a grin.
“If you say so.” His eyes rake over me, and it’s as though he’s visualizing what I look like beneath the uniform. The idea of his imagination alone sends a shiver down my spine.
Pressing my lips into a thin line, I stop myself from saying anything else as I breeze past him and head for the stairs. I hear my door click behind him, but he's at my side a moment later, stepping out into the morning sun.
I'm thankful for the rays and the fresh air, my steps instinctively slowing, but I don’t come to a complete halt as I focus on the wild flowers we breeze past. Talking threatens to let my guard down, and I’ve done that enough already.
When my body is on fire, it’s like every other thought, feeling, and emotion goes out the window as I desperately plead for someone to put out the flames.
Archer hurt me. They all did. I’ll do well to remember that. Or, more specifically, my heated phoenix veins should know that we don’t like them.
I can’t even bring myself to look at him, never mind hold a random conversation, when all I can think about is the other night, when he helped regulate me.
To my surprise, he doesn't try to dominate the space between us. He lets me linger in the quiet as we bypass other students. Some acknowledge him with words or a wave, while everyone glares at me with accusing eyes.
I wonder if Francesca, Bonnie, and Odesa get the same treatment for killing somebody.
Something tells me they don't.
My stomach churns, reminding me of the light breakfast that Ember had delivered to my room this morning. It threatens to revolt on me as I remind myself of the fact that Francesca and Bonnie are likely to be in this next class.
There's no point avoiding them, though. That's not what this is about.
I'm here for me.
I'm here for my priority list that Greta and the girls helped me piece together, and if that means I have to face Francesca again, then so be it.
She won't be my downfall.
My pulse thrums as I make my way up the stairs of the main academy building.
Determination rising inside with every step I take, and only when we reach the room does Archer press his palm flat against my stomach, halting me in place.
My muscles clench from my core right down to my thighs as my eyes meet his.
Need, which I refuse to acknowledge, floods through my veins at his simple touch, but it's uncertainty that I see in his blue eyes.
“Are you sure you want to do this? I can walk in first and kill them,” he offers, catching me off guard.
“You wouldn’t,” I say, and he gives me a pointed look, confirming that he, indeed, would.
Instinctively, I press my palm against his shoulder, which only seems to make my skin run hotter.
I'm already screwed, and this day has barely begun.
Clearing my throat, I attempt to calm the war inside of me. “When the day comes, I'll be the one to do it,” I admit, surprising both of us as I jolt back, almost wobbling down the first step, but Archer catches me before I fall to my demise.
Where the hell did that come from?
Quickly shaking my head, not wanting to know, I stare pleadingly at Archer, who doesn’t seem too interested in prying any further either, as he moves his hand from my stomach to my back, guiding me into the room.
The second I step over the threshold, my gaze immediately lands on Francesca.
She sits perched against her desk, arms folded over her chest as she eyes me from across the room.
The taste of anger is like acid on my tongue as I fight against the magic inside of me, begging to make an example of her. Instead, I think I might do something worse; so I lean into Archer's touch as he guides me toward the back of the class.
I feel the heat from his fingers as they flex, every movement registering despite the layers of clothing that sit between us.
He bypasses his empty seat as I make eye contact with Baron, Sax, and Teddy before falling into the chair beside the Water Protector. I'm acutely aware of Silas on the other side of me as well, but I'm not mentally or emotionally available to deal with anyone else right now.
Only when I'm seated does Archer find his spot, but not before pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. A move that not just Francesca sees, but Silas, Teddy, and just about everyone else in the class as well.
It seems I may not be held in such high regard here as I was when I was the Angel of Heaven’s Ridge, thank goodness. But it doesn’t mean I haven’t still found myself on display for everyone.
The second Archer's chair scrapes across the floor and he falls into his seat, Francesca rises, prowling toward me at the exact same time my second least favorite person here enters the room.
Bonnie.
A grin curls her lips as she flicks her hair over her shoulder, but she doesn't step as close as Francesca, hovering back a step as the leader of the Fire Protectors, my supposed leader, looms over me.
“A real phoenix, it seems,” she muses, a light smile to her lips that doesn't match the darkness that frames her eyes.
It’s sad how pretty she is, really.
The way her glossy hair and flawless features gleam, even under the poor classroom lighting, is wasted on a vile bitch like her.
“Fuck off, Francesca,” Teddy grunts from beside me, planting his hand on my thigh.
I should brush him off, remember that he's my hated mate, but I take strength from it instead.
“Is there a point to the bullshit coming out of your mouth?” I state, hearing a scoff from my right, and I’m pretty sure it’s Sax, but I can't turn to find out for sure as I watch Francesca’s every move.
She plants her hands on the table, spreading her fingers wide as she inches closer.
“I made you a promise, Ivy Hayworth. You'll do well to remember that,” she snarls, her lip curling with a wisp of venom as she pushes off the table, ready to disappear once again.
Before she can take a single step, I move, grabbing her wrist and yanking her back toward me.
Her eyes are wide with surprise, but the gasp comes from somewhere else in the classroom.
Possibly me.
I slowly rise, matching her stance as my eyes narrow.
“Don't be cryptic, Francesca. It was a promise, not a secret,” I snap, watching her nose twitch with irritation that she's no longer the one in control.
“What was it you said?” I muse, tapping my chin with my free hand.
“‘You're no better than me, bitch, and I'm going to make sure you know that every time I do this.’?”
“Let me kill her now,” Teddy growls, banging his fist against the table, and I shake my head, reluctantly releasing the girl in question.
I stand tall, unafraid of her presence, and I think that pisses her off even more.
“Francesca needs humbling. Killing her won't do that. There's no resurrecting evil,” I say, all while my veins bubble with fury and rage.
My magic is threatening to burst at the seams as Bonnie cackles, finding her spark all of a sudden.
“You can act strong in front of your mates, bitch, but when we get you alone again, we all know what’s going to happen.”