Chapter 22 Ivy
Ivy
Princess Ivora.
The name still sounds so foreign.
Could it be true? Could I really be a princess?
I’ve always just been Ivy—well, at least to the townspeople back at Charstown. Yet my full name has and always will be Ivora.
Now it all makes sense—why my parents told me to keep my full name a secret. Maybe that’s why the king sent his men to our cottage, because someone had found out my real name and reported me to the guard.
Perhaps someone saw me wearing the necklace. It’s all my fault.
Now, my parents are gone because of my foolishness. Worst of all, now I’m not even sure if they were my real parents to begin with.
If they weren’t my biological parents, then who were they?
I’ve barely slept since Tegwyn and I stumbled upon my wanted poster by the roadside, and there was no mistaking that the girl had been me.
If only I could find my parents and speak with them again. They’re gone, though, and I don’t even know if they’re still alive.
Tegwyn has been acting stranger than usual. From the corner of my eye, I catch him staring at me, and sometimes, I wonder if I should tell him.
After all, he has been a great friend to me. He has shown me kindness these last few weeks, and I’m pretty sure I can trust him now.
But he has grown suspicious of me. Have I lost my only ally in the world?
Well, no, that’s not true. I still have my Aunt Elly, wherever she may be. I could resume my search and find her again, but I can’t bring myself to leave Tegwyn.
I think the faerie was lonely before I got here, but he has a habit of pushing people away.
Yet he can’t fool me; I spy the hope in his eyes, no matter how small. He likes having me around, and for that reason, I must stay.
He has come a long, long way. When I first met him, he was cruel and crass. Well, he’s still crass, but he’s kind, too. Most of all, he’s loyal and selfless; he protected me from that soul-sucking leech back at the tavern and almost paid with his life.
And he shot an arrow through the kelpie in the marsh. He has saved my life twice…no, thrice, including the bugbear, so I owe him a great debt.
So, the least I can do is confide in him and tell him my secrets. And I will start with my real name.
My Aunt Elly is still a stranger. I’m not even sure if she’s alive.
Tegwyn is the devil I know.
Besides, leaving the mountain would be nearly impossible. I’m wanted and there are faeries left, right, and centre waiting to gobble me whole.
I suppose it’s rather poetic that we’re both fugitives—Tegwyn’s posters used to grace the walls of Charstown, too. We’re more alike than I realised, just a couple of kids running from the law…
My mind is set. I am going to tell him everything.
Tossing the blankets and furs aside, I get out of bed to dress, then march down the tunnel.
The kitchen is empty when I arrive, and bitter cold. The chill clings to my skin, and with a shiver, I kneel before the hearth to start a fire.
Soon, I warm my hands before the flickering flames, closing my eyes as I bask in the fire’s heat.
It puts my soul at ease, and for the first time in days, I relax.
A scroll of parchment lies inside my pocket. I’ve read it nonstop since I left home, and the paper has become crinkled as a result. But maybe I’ll find a hidden message in my mother’s scrawl. She was always cryptic in that fashion.
With shaking hands, I unfurl the scroll, straining my eyes over her handwriting for the umpteenth time.
Nothing. Just her last parting words to me.
However, one phrase does capture my attention. “You will always be our daughter…”
Will I? I just don’t know anymore. I need answers, and soon.
“Oh, Mama. There must be something you’re not telling me. What should I do? What path do I take?”
I half expect her words to shuffle and rearrange themselves, yet they remain static. With a sigh, I roll up the parchment, gazing into the flames.
Suddenly, the hair rises at the back of my neck, and I have the uncanny feeling of being watched.
“What are you reading?”
Startled, I whirl around, spying that horned shadow in the corner of the cave. His eyes glow like embers, and a shudder skates down my spine when I catch that suspicious glare.
“Tegwyn,” I laugh, hoping he doesn’t catch the nervousness in my tone. “You gave me a fright.”
He doesn’t respond. He merely keeps his narrowed pupils on me, and not once does he blink.
The Fae stalks closer, shadows trailing behind him as he repeats slowly for my benefit, “I asked you a question. What. Are. You. Reading?”
His eyes burn brighter to punctuate his point.
Finally, I rise to my feet, retracting my decision. It’s best he doesn’t know after all. He’s too suspicious, regarding me like I’m some kind of villain he wishes to vanquish.
Hostility drips from him like a toxin, and when a shadow curls around him like the tail of a vicious viper, it only solidifies my decision. “Nothing of importance.”
His jaw ticks, and then he whispers just low enough for me to hear, “Well, it certainly looked important.”
He stops before me, disturbing the flames of the hearth when he sends a cool breeze my way, but I maintain my stance.
“Well, what is it?” he enunciates again, an unnatural lilt to his voice.
I can’t look away from his eyes, and soon I’m drowning in pools of sticky honey, pulling and yanking at that tacky substance until I’m completely smothered.
But I manage to rip myself free as I turn away, whispering, “I don’t think it’s any of your concern.”
It’s a small, minute gesture, but a smirk tugs at the left side of his mouth, exposing his fangs. “I have a right to know if you’re hiding something from me, Ivy. It is my mountain.”
My cheeks blaze at his words, and now I speak with more conviction. “No, you don’t. Keep your nose out of my personal affairs.”
He huffs a breath, shutting his eyes. Then he raises his palms, taking his shadows away with him. “You’re right. No concern of mine.”
Finally, he merges with the darkness, and I’m glad we could come to some agreement.
But it shouldn’t be this way. We’re back to being enemies.
My gaze falls on the sputtering hearth. Should I tell him? If I confide in him, then it may just mend the rift between us. I don’t like it when we don’t get along. The world seems a brighter place when we’re on the same side.
But then a brush of cool wind at my neck soon has me changing my mind, and now I turn to find him at the other end of the cave, holding my scroll.
The blood roars hot through my head. “Give it back!”
Tegwyn chuckles, waving the scroll in his fingertips, and I never should have turned my back on him. “Then come and get it, princess.”
I grind my teeth. “No. You’re being a child, and I refuse to play this game. Give it back to me. Now.”
The faerie feigns a yawn, leaning against the wall as he starts to read my mother’s scrawl. “Fine. Then I’ll just go ahead and read this while you simmer in silence.”
Something snaps inside me, sparking through my veins like a fork of white-hot lightning, and then I spring forward, jumping onto his back before he has a chance to ripple.
Once again, I’m dragged through space and time as he moves at Fae speed, and I hold on for dear life.
He will not get away from me.
The world resumes its normal pace, and then we’re back inside the cave, standing right before the crackling flames.
My vision warps and folds, and I can barely think straight, yet I seize my chance, reaching for my mother’s scroll.
But before I can get my hands on him, he flips me onto my back, and soon I’m lying on the cold, hard ground, gazing up at his enraged face.
Déjà vu hits me full force. Why do I feel like we’ve been here before?
Back at the cottage. He’s pinning my arms and legs to the floor of the kitchen as he gets the better of me, just as he does now…
He breathes down at me raggedly, and the flames of the hearth dance in his eyes. “You bitch… You fucking bit me!”
I did?
I thought my mouth tasted of copper.
Now I glance at his bloodied ear, and a desperate laugh escapes me. “Then you shouldn’t have taken my scroll!”
I wiggle the parchment in my fingers, and his eyes widen with shock. I’m surprised myself; I don’t know how I managed to sneak it from his grip.
A shadow crosses his eyes, and then he becomes a thing of nightmares, fangs bared as the darkness materialises around him, wrapping him up in its cruel tendrils. “What are you hiding?!”
“Nothing!”
Snarling, he tries to rip the scroll from my fingertips, but I hold it close to my chest, far from his prying claws. But then my heart stops when a ripping sound rends the air.
No…
One of his claws has torn right through the parchment, and I kick him away. “Get off me!”
When he doesn’t budge, I kick him in the groin.
I try to salvage what’s left of my scroll, but a breeze sweeps up the tunnel, blowing the fragments towards the flames. “No!”
I drop to my knees before the hearth, but it’s too late. The flames engulf my mother’s final words to me, and it’s hopeless. Truly.
Tegwyn gets to his feet, and I round on him quickly before he has a chance to escape. “Are you happy? It’s gone!”
His face is unreadable as his gaze lingers on the flames, and I have no idea what’s running through his mind. But I don’t care; I don’t care if he’s having an existential crisis or if the guilt is tearing him apart. I get off the ground, stumbling forward to grip his shirt. “Well, say something!”
His empty gaze finds mine, and I’m not sure what comes over me. Maybe the darkness has gouged its way inside of me, and now it’s festering inside my soul, turning me as evil as he is.
“You piece of shit!”
I punch his chest with each word, but when I aim for his face, his gloved hand shoots out, seizing me by the wrist, and his claws finally make their appearance. “Don’t. Do. That…”
I can’t help it anymore. The darkness spews from my lips, and that’s what he does: brings out the darkness in me.
“I hate you. I fucking hate you!”