Chapter 10 Ivy
Ivy
I’ve never spent a birthday alone before, so when I wake on the day in question to find myself inside a dark, cold cave without a single friend in the world, it isn’t easy.
Maybe if I close my eyes, I will wake in my old bed, and this whole nightmare will finally end. Maybe I will wake with Bryce panting by my side, and Mama bringing me breakfast in bed.
She always made me breakfast in bed for special occasions—breakfasts with poached eggs, fresh blueberries, and buttered toast.
Last year, she and Papa bought me an easel and a brand-new set of paints.
It’s utterly hopeless. In the end, I lose the battle with my warring emotions, and the tears fall at last. Yet through the despair, I hear a distant voice. Get up. Not all is lost…
It sounds a little like my mother’s voice.
Sitting up, I wipe away the tears and rise to my feet. I’ve had my little cry. Now it’s time to be strong; I must be strong if I hope to survive the North and its vicious vipers.
The Fae truly are cruel, just like I was taught. They are selfish, manipulative, and only care for themselves.
Telling Tegwyn had been a grave mistake. I’d miscalculated, reading the situation entirely wrong.
The look of pure loathing in his eyes was proof enough. He hates me, and he wants nothing to do with me.
He only tolerates me because of the binding of our magical contract.
I sensed the ripple in the air the day I traded my necklace for a bed in his cave, and it was enough to shake the very foundations of the earth.
It’s an old, ancient magic that is by no means to be broken or tampered with. But nothing in the contract specifically states that he must be nice or even friends with me. That’s fine, though, because I don’t care much for him, either.
I go through the motions, slipping on my dress. Then I step into my boots, brushing the lint from my skirt.
My fingers disappear beneath my pillow, searching for the weapon. When my fingers graze cool metal, I pull it out, gazing down at the shining bronze.
Tegwyn had given me this knife on my second day here. He told me to go and clip some heather on the slope so I could use it to stuff my bed.
He didn’t have to do that. It wasn’t in the contract. As far as he was concerned, he’d already done his due diligence, giving me a bed made up of furs, no matter how uncomfortable they may have been.
He also protected me from the bugbear. The faerie could have just sacrificed me to that vicious beast, getting me out of his hair once and for all. He already had my necklace by that point.
Yet, he protected me… Maybe he does care deep down, but he just has an odd way of showing it.
Finally, I pocket the knife, moving down to the kitchen to find it empty as usual.
After a warm breakfast of porridge, I grab my cloak from the mounted antlers, heading further down the mountain.
A morning hike along the northern slope should help clear away the cobwebs. As long as I stay within the safety margins of Tegwyn’s wards, I should be safe from bugbears or worse.
A golden sun glimmers in a clear, sapphire sky once I emerge onto the grassy slope at the mouth of the tunnel, inhaling deeply. It may be sunny, but the weather is crisp cold, and fogs the breath.
I veer right, heading for the northern slope where the heather grows in abundance. It’s a beautiful sight to behold, and one of my favourite places to unwind.
A peaceful, craggy footpath leads the way, rocky outcrops towering above me on either side as I watch wild goats scaling the cliffs and creeping across narrow ledges to reach tufts of thick grass.
When I finally arrive at my destination, a sigh leaves my lips, and for the first time today, I smile.
The slope is blanketed in purple heather and yellow gorse, and the bright colours lift my spirits, right along with their sweet scents.
If I had my easel, I would paint every single one.
A brook twists down the hill, a bright, glistening ribbon of crystal-clear water. I plan to take a dip today, cleansing my mind, body, and soul.
Following the brook, I trek further down the path, wending between bushes of gorse until I stop at a bank of smooth rock.
Untying my boots, I submerge my toes in the water, shivering when it sends ice-cold knives up my leg.
Despite the frigid temperature, I plunge my foot deeper, freezing my bones. This is where I come to bathe, but every time I strip off my clothes, I feel as if something watches me.
I’ve heard harrowing tales of Fae snatching away maidens who’ve wandered too far. Perhaps I should tie my dress back up.
But I’ve already loosened my corset.
I slip out of the dress, dragging it down until it bunches at my waist. When it drops to my feet, I step out carefully, bundling it up and placing it onto the smooth rock.
I start taking my undergarments off, too, despite my apprehension. I pop the buttons off my bralette and tug off my silken panties until I’m completely naked.
Finally, I step into the freezing brook, holding my breath as I drop to my knees. My hair hangs like a golden veil around my shoulders as I shut my eyes, tilting my face towards the sky.
Sunshine kisses my cheeks, and I dip my head back, letting the cold water soothe my scalp.
Water drips in rivulets between my breasts, gooseflesh encircling each peak, and it’s so cold. My lower lip trembles, yet I sink deeper until no part of me remains above the surface.
The water is murky, but I keep my head under. I used to hold my breath in the lake all the time back at home, and the longest I’ve gone is two minutes.
I try to repeat my record, but when the pressure builds up in my lungs, I breach the surface, gasping for air.
So cold…
My teeth are chattering.
Yet I remain in the brook, gazing down at the fine hair of my arms. It pricks on end, resembling needles.
A stick snaps behind me, and I cover my breasts, jerking my head towards a grove of trees. A shadow moves behind the trunk of a pine, and my heart thumps. I am not alone. Someone or something watches me.
I search the bed of the brook for a sharp rock, keeping a hand across my chest as I feel my way across loamy soil; I left my knife in the folds of my dress, so I’ll have to improvise.
When I find a rock sharp enough, I raise it high above my head, ready to hurl it at the peeping Tom.
The shadow moves again, and I grit my teeth, tossing the rock.
I don’t care if the Grim Reaper himself awaits me behind those pine trees. No one, and I mean no one, watches me bathe.
The rock makes contact, and then someone shouts, “Fuck!”
My heart hammers when I recognise the voice, and then I scream his name, wrapping my arms around my breasts, “Tegwyn! You pervert!”
I grab another rock, and I hope this one knocks him out. He deserves it.
“You were watching me? I can’t believe you!”
The Fae steps out from behind the tree, covering his eyes. “I wasn’t watching you. Don’t flatter yourself!”
I growl, readying the rock to launch it at his horned head. “Now you’re insulting me? You really are despicable!”
He removes his hand from his eyes, pinning me with that cold, vicious stare, and not once does his gaze wander.
Still, I sink beneath the water, using my hair as a veil.
“I was here far before you arrived, princess. Besides, modesty is a foreign concept for the Fae. So…don’t think I haven’t seen it all before. You’re nothing special.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, that’s reassuring.”
Silence stretches for an age as I remain in the water. Somehow, I can’t stop the ache that forms in my chest.
Nothing special…Is that what he thinks?
I’ve never been with a man. I’m inexperienced, while he, on the other hand, has most likely bedded hundreds of females. I bet they were all Fae, like him, and ten times more beautiful than I could ever dream of.
Who am I kidding? Of course he wasn’t watching me. Compared to the Fae, I’m nothing. Hardly worth a second glance.
His eyes remain respectfully on my face, and I guess he truly did mean what he said; he isn’t interested whatsoever.
Still, I have to get out of this water sometime; I can no longer feel my toes.
“Well, now that we’ve established that you weren’t, indeed, watching me, could you turn around? I need to get dressed.”
He hikes up a brow, regarding me strangely. Are faeries truly that blasé about nudity? Or was he just saying that to mess with me?
Tegwyn sighs, turning back towards the trees. “Do what you must.”
He disappears, but I wait a few more moments before I climb out, dripping water onto the rocks.
As I slip into my clothes, I look to where I saw him last, wondering what he was doing in that grove in the first place. My hair hangs wet about my shoulders as I meander down the slope, coming to a stop behind a tree.
He sits by the brook, the water running as smooth as silk over the glistening rock. He looks so serene beneath the shining sun. His horns glisten as brightly as bronze, and I wonder if they’re just as sturdy.
He snorts, “Now who’s the peeping Tom?”
Tegwyn swivels on his rock, an accusatory look in his gleaming eyes. I bow my head, shame heating my cheeks. “I wasn’t looking…”
Again, he arches a brow, seeing right through my lie. Then he chuckles, returning to his task. He’s sharpening something with a bronze knife, and I step closer, curiosity getting the better of me.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing that concerns your mortal eyes. Now go on, off you go to sing to a meadowlark, or whatever it is that you do in your spare time. I need to focus.”
He's dismissing me, and again, I feel that sharp sting of rejection. I guess I should leave, then.
As I walk up the slope, I feel his burning gaze on my spine, but I don’t bother turning back. If he wants to be alone, then fine, I’ll go.
Who needs him, anyway?