Tender Thorns (The Ivy Institute Book 1)
Chapter 1
Itrudge up the path with a knot of dread lodged in my throat so palpable, I can barely swallow the hot saliva pooling in my mouth. Every step I take most likely brings me closer and closer to certain death, but I’m too afraid to slow my ascent up the mountain.
The spires of my destination are scarcely visible through the trees and fog blanketing the Mori Forest, meaning I still have a bit of a climb. Maybe my black heart will explode before I can reach Ivy Institute. I dismiss the thought as soon as it forms, knowing I would never be that lucky.
The thick canopy of trees covers everything but the narrow lane winding up the hill. I know darkness will arrive soon, and gods only know what will come with it. I’m unsure if I should be grateful to my bastard of a father for kicking me out of the carriage at the base of the road—he was too afraid to get close to the institute—or curse him for making me late for my inevitable execution.
I settle on wishing he would die, and not for the first time. He’s never done anything for me I could be thankful for.
The ache of hunger that always gnaws at my belly is almost enough to distract me from my heart thundering in my ears and head as my breaths grow shallower with each step. I haven’t eaten today, and while that isn’t all that unusual, hiking up a mountain is, and it’s taking its toll on my body.
My foot skids over a walnut-sized rock, digging into the soft leather sole of my boot and causing me to throw out my arms to catch myself. The moment I stop moving, I’ll feel the blisters on my feet weeping in my too small shoes, but that’s easy to ignore—the wobble of my thighs and burn of my calves isn’t. I force myself to take one step, then another, because if I stop moving, I’ll risk my muscles locking up, taking the choice away from me.
Ten minutes later, the thought of lying down to die peacefully under the shadows of the trees doesn’t seem so bad. Maybe dehydration or the elements would get me before someone found me, but knowing there are fates worse than death keeps me going.
A branch to my left cracks, the sound cutting through the muffled forest, and dread fills my gut. I know I’m not alone, and I feel foolish for ever assuming I was in the first place. Run, echoes in my head, but instead of heeding the warning, almost every muscle in my body freezes as my head turns toward the sound. My eyes search the darkness, finding only shadows dancing along the base of the trees and ground. It only takes a breath for me to realize the rhythmic movement is my mind trying to make sense of my vision waning with every thud of my heart. What isn’t a figment of my imagination, though, is the eerie silence now surrounding me. It’s as if the forest itself is holding its breath, along with every creature that calls this anathematized place home.
My own breath is locked within my chest, and my fading eyesight threatens to consume my view entirely. With effort, I force myself to exhale slowly. The hair on the back of my neck tingles with warning, but my feet still refuse to move. I open my mouth to call out, to demand to know who’s there, but it’s been so long since I’ve spoken or had a drink that when I try to speak, I only manage a croak. Instinct takes over as I clear my throat, eliciting a cough that steals what little air I have left.
Just as my vision fades and my legs give out, I see a form emerge from the fog that seems to move with the shadows. My brain tries to make sense of the dark silhouette, but it proves to be too much work for my weakened system as everything begins to shut down. The only thing I feel when I hit the ground is a sense of relief as the blackness closes in on me.
I know she’s going to go down long before she accepts the truth of her weakness. I’ve watched her deteriorate with every step over the last hour. Honestly, she lasted far longer than I would have guessed. I suppose that’s what kept me entertained enough to continue to observe her. What surprises me, however, is the nearly crushing desire I feel to catch her before she falls, which would be a death sentence for her if I’m not careful. Everything I touch dies.
There are precautions I can take, but I rarely find them worth the effort, considering not many are brave enough to be near me anyway, which is a relief. You wouldn’t believe how tedious it is to listen to others’ screams as they writhe in pain while dying. At least it’s a fairly quick process. I’m sure my victims appreciate the swiftness as well.
I step out from the tree line just as she collapses. Her heavy-lidded, golden eyes watch me for a long second before she succumbs to exhaustion and passes out. I approach her slowly, wary for no other reason than I’m not a fool. Nothing in our world is what it seems. The most beautiful creatures are often the deadliest. The sheer fact that I feel drawn to her should be enough of a warning.
Her breathing is rough and shallow. I know without doubt if I do nothing, she will die. Something in my chest constricts at the thought, which makes no sense to me. Creatures die all the time, yet something about letting this frail, wild thing perish fills me with a sense of foreboding I can’t ignore. Unable to fight the urge, I kneel beside her, pull down the sleeves of my shirt to cover my hands, and then slide my arms under her limp body to scoop her against my chest. As long as she doesn’t awaken and try to punch me in the face or gouge out my eyes, inadvertently touching my uncovered skin, she will be fine.
She weighs next to nothing, cradled in my arms, even as lifeless as she is. It’s only then that I notice how quick my breaths are coming and the unease hastening my steps as I sprint toward the institute.
“Kage!” Mistress Myers exclaims, shattering the icy indifference she usually maintains around me to hide the revulsion she truly feels. “How did this happen?” she asks, wrongfully assuming I hurt the girl. It only takes her a heartbeat to straighten her spine, but it’s far too late for pretending. She could never hide her fear, no matter how hard she tried. I can smell the acidic odor contaminating the air we breathe.
“I found her on the road.” It grates on me to even respond, but the little creature in my arms needs help, and I feel compelled to make sure she gets it.
“You found her like this?” Her shrewd, dark eyes narrow on me as if she’s gauging whether or not she can trust me.
“Yes, call a healer.” The order in my tone can’t be ignored. When she continues to observe me instead of doing as I bid, I contemplate killing her, but that would come with its own complications I don’t have the desire nor time to deal with at the moment.
I take one step, determined to take the girl to a healer myself, when Mistress Myers turns her head just enough to see the man emerging from the school—an instructor I’m unfamiliar with. He never falters as he strides toward us. She must have alerted him to my presence somehow. Useful information, since she must have some sort of telepathic ability or a deep connection to the man.
“I believe this was our new student,” she tells the approaching man.
“Is,” I correct. “She isn’t dead yet, though I can’t say how long she will remain this way if you continue to examine my presence and motives instead of assisting her.”
Mistress Myers’ eyebrows shoot up high on her forehead, clearly surprised by either the fact that this creature isn’t dead or my rebuke of her behavior. “I can’t sense her at all,” she mutters under her breath, then takes a step closer to examine the girl. A warning rumble vibrates my chest, causing the instructor to freeze and dart her eyes up to me. The shadows coalesce around me as I unintentionally pull power.
“Call a healer,” I instruct again with even more resolve.
“It will be quicker to take her inside,” the man says, drawing my attention. His hand is hovering near the weapon at his hip. It wouldn’t even faze me, but it would surely kill my creature, especially in her weakened state. I take note of his face should I decide to pay him a visit later for the slight.
“If you set her down, I will take her,” he offers, glancing at the ground near my feet with intent.
“I will take her.” I curl my fingers tighter around her little body. “It will be quicker that way.” Without any more words or instructions, I leave them both where they stand and rush into the school. It’s only then I realize I have no idea where to find the healers. I look back over my shoulder and see the man only a few paces behind me.
He seems to read the question on my face when he says, “Third floor, west wing. Are you sure?—”
That’s all I allow before using the shadows to conceal me, and then I move faster than eyes can track.
The smell of herbs and ointments fills the corridor, alerting me that I’m in the right place. A female with a short cap of dark hair steps out of a door and eyes me warily. “Bring her in here.” She moves to the side, giving me a wide berth as I enter the room she emerged from. There are several cots lined up. Most of them are empty, but I take my creature to the farthest bed against the wall and gently place her on the thin pallet.
The pang that hits my chest as I release her almost makes me pull her back into my arms, but when her lids just barely lift, revealing golden irises that are a match for the thick tresses woven into her long, dark plait, I shift back quickly, fearing she may touch my skin without knowledge of the consequences.
“I was hoping being dead wouldn’t hurt so badly,” she mutters as her eyes close once again, and she loses consciousness. Her voice feels like a soft caress against my skin, and I have to force myself not to physically react or demand she open her mouth and whisper her words against my flesh.
“She’s hurting,” I bark at the female harshly. She is doing nothing more than standing and staring.
Her head drops, and she leans over the bed, touching her fingertips to my creature’s forehead without concern of hurting her. Envy bites at my chest at the simple touch I will never be allowed. “Do you know what happened?” She tilts her face, keeping me in her line of sight as if she thinks I will attack her while her back is turned.
“She collapsed while walking.”
“Do you know why?” Her brow furrows as she returns most of her attention back to my creature.
“She seemed…tired,” I reply without conviction. I should have approached her much sooner and made sure she was okay, or notified the school of her presence so they could have sent a carriage for her.
The healer repositions herself closer to the girl, bringing both hands up to trace a shape over her forehead, down across her cheeks, then to her neck, where she places her palms on my creature as if she’s feeling for a heartbeat. My heart constricts, skipping a beat as fear coils around my chest.
“She’s breathing, but I can’t sense anything. It’s as if she’s already gone.” The healer shifts her hands again, searching. I shuffle forward, prepared to pick her up again and find someone else more capable, but a voice stops me in my tracks.
“If she’s breathing, she’s alive.”
I shift, caught off guard by the newcomer standing near me. I can’t recall another time when I’ve been so oblivious, but the massive male was able to sneak up behind me without issue. Ziv sidesteps me, moving to get closer to the bed. His shoulder brushes against mine, proving he’s either foolish or brave. Considering he’s the head combat instructor, I doubt very much it was by accident. I survey the three deep scars cutting through his eyebrow then down his cheek, where they disappear into a short beard a few shades darker than his silver hair. We’ve never spoken, since shared combat isn’t something I’m permitted to entertain, considering my affliction, but that doesn’t mean I don’t train in the gyms, so I know exactly who he is.
I’m not sure if I should be affronted by his dismissal or entertained. When he picks up my creature’s plait as if to examine the two-tone color of her hair, I settle on feeling displeasure. I don’t like knowing he can touch her so freely while I can’t. A rumble leaves my chest, and for the first time, Ziv acknowledges me with a curt look over his shoulder, as if I’m nothing to be concerned about.
“You found her?” The lilt of his deep voice makes it clear he’s asking a question. “You seem eager to get her help.” I don’t feel the need to respond. In fact, I’m having a hard time even pretending to concentrate on what he’s saying because I’m too busy watching the way his fingers roll over the ends of her hair as if he doesn’t want to release her. It’s very possible he’s doing it to piss me off.
Sensing I’m not going to respond, Ziv looks away from me, giving me his back and showing his total lack of concern at having me there. “She was due to arrive hours ago,” he divulges. “Syrinx just dispatched me to locate her.” When he pushes a lock of hair back from her pale face, I have to force myself not to push him away from her as a wave of possessiveness threatens to shatter my calm exterior.
“She is unwell,” I tell him in an effort to get her help and to hopefully get him away from my creature.
“So it would seem,” he agrees without concern. I shouldn’t be surprised. Neither this place nor Ziv are known for their compassion. Up until this moment, I wouldn’t have believed I had any myself.
“You may go.” He turns his head to appraise me once again. “Unless there’s some other reason for you to be here that I’m unaware of?” He’s dismissing me, unless I’m willing to answer his question, which I am not.
Even with his watchful eyes on me, it still takes me a moment to get my feet moving and leave the room with a plan to return as soon as possible. I allow myself one more glance in her direction and find her amber eyes slitted open, observing me without an ounce of fear or loathing. It’s nearly enough to pull me back to her bedside, but from the corner of my eye, I notice Ziv averting his gaze from me before looking at the girl, who flutters her lids as if she’s struggling to wake from a dream. She’s a cunning little thing, which leads to another thought—it wasn’t an accident that I witnessed her awake and watching me. She wanted me to see her.