Chapter 37 #2
When Rhythe and Jace are long out of earshot, Talia and Ivy start a fire. They move around the camp with a friction that can be felt. Caelus shifts his weight from one foot to the other, impatient. I feel it too—that crawling sense of time thinning out.
The forest has grown quiet as the sun burns lower, hardly warming in the bitter cold.
Caelus doesn’t dare whisper and risk being overheard, but I can tell from the intensity of his stare that he wants us to get climbing before the sun is completely gone and we’re down one day.
Climbing at night is too great a risk. But I have to wait for the right moment to approach Ivy so I don’t tip off Talia.
She’s still grieving, and she’s the hotheaded one.
Talia paces, muttering to herself for a while. Her movements have the jerky rhythm of someone trying not to come apart. Ivy doesn’t say much, just stokes the fire, sharpening a blade. Her expression is locked in that neutral, unreadable calm that makes her so hard to pin down.
It’s nightfall by the time Talia announces she’s going to lie down for a while.
Ivy nods, eyes still scanning the tree line, sweeping past where we’re concealed by brush.
Shortly after the tent flap rustles closed behind Talia, I decide it’s time.
This is it. Ivy’s sitting by the fire now, alone, her fingers tracing idle circles in the dirt.
There’s tension coiled in her shoulders, like she’s expecting something bad to happen.
I wonder what she’s thinking about. I can’t ever tell if she’s sad, worried, scared.
Does she know I told Talia about her and Rhythe?
I slip out from the cover. Her gaze snaps to me before I even make a sound, and I raise my hands in peace. “Ivy,” I say. “Don’t panic. I need to talk to you.”
She doesn’t move; her hands hover just inches from the knife she’d been sharpening. I can feel the calculation behind her stare—more measured risk than fear.
I raise my hands higher. “I’ve never tried to hurt you. And you’ve never tried to hurt me. Nothing is different.”
“You shouldn’t be here, Axira. They don’t like you. It’s not safe.”
“That’s what I came to tell you, Ivy, it’s not safe for you either.”
She finally moves, shifting her weight forward slightly. I can feel her mind turning over every angle, every consequence, considering if and why I’d lie about something like this. She stands, glances at the tent, and gestures for me to tiptoe over.
I follow, careful not to disturb a single twig underfoot.
We move just past the edge of the firelight, into the cover of low-hanging pines.
If Talia wakes up, who knows what she’d do.
If this is a trap and Kade is watching, I’m dead.
Ivy stops beneath the dark needles, far enough that our voices won’t carry.
But close enough to keep her eyes on the tent.
“What is it?” she whispers.
I tell her everything.
How Kade is behind Lira’s and Orrick’s deaths under Rhythe’s orders. How I know she and Rhythe knew each other before the tournament and they are hiding it. How Talia vowed to Lira before she died that if Ivy was really scheming with Rhythe, they’d get rid of her during the third trial.
Ivy blinks once. Then, again—too fast, like she’s trying to not panic. “You think Rhythe is in love with me and he’s doing all this to protect me?”
“It looks that way. I overheard his hallucination in the second trial—he was terrified, talking with you about losing ‘everything.’ ”
Ivy’s mouth twists like she’s bitten something sour, and in true Ivy fashion she says nothing. But I can see it—the tension in her jaw, the subtle shake in her hands. Her mind is a locked vault I wish I could pick.
“You’re not safe in his alliance,” I say.
“You just want to stop us from winning.” But when she says it there is no gleam of ambition in her eye. No conviction or weight or passion to her words. Only fear.
“Talia could be plotting to kill you the first chance she gets,” I say. “And Kade and Rhythe’s relationship is volatile at best. If Kade turns on Rhythe, you’d be a natural target. Winning isn’t a luxury you will have, Ivy.”
“So what, I’m just dead?” she asks.
“No. Come with us. We can at least get you to the ground safely.”
The tightness in her shoulders releases some. She presses her lips into a thin line. “It’s not like you make it sound between Rhythe and me. Not exactly.”
“Well, that’s how it looks. And on this island, how it looks is all that matters.” We thought this was a tournament to win a chance at being in love, but it’s just a machine to feed the Benevolent’s power.
“Well, it’s not!” she says. “If it were up to me I would have never entered this mess. I wouldn’t have done the things he asks—I—”
She talks like she’s his prisoner.
“If you stick with us, we can do our best to keep you alive.” I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t know how this list of people I’m agreeing to help continues to grow longer.
Ivy doesn’t move right away. She stares at the tent where Talia vanished, arms tight across her chest like she’s trying to hold herself together, eyes glassy with some emotion she’s trying hard not to let spill. Then she exhales. “Alright, Axira. I’ll come with you.”