Page 76 of Secrets of Graves and Gold

The glow seeps into me with a sudden, sharp clarity.

Ivy didn’t destroy anything when she hid us in the forest or concealed Rheave to carry out our plans. No catastrophe rained down on us when she pulled off her tricks with the shield.

How did I not see it before? The power I’d normally revile passes through her… and she colors it with all her strength and compassion.

What she works isn’t just riven magic. It’s hers.

A strange sense of peace washes over me. Ivy has given me the choice, because that’s who she is—the woman I believe in, the woman I love.

And I do believe in her, more than I hate the errant energies she can channel through the cracks in her soul. This woman can take the vilest power in the world and transform it into a force for good.

In the sudden calm, my voice detaches from the pain. I hold Ivy’s gaze as well as I can and force out the hoarse words. “I want… to live. Don’t want… to leave you. Don’t want… to fail the… kingdom. I trust you. Anything… you do… will be right.”

Ivy’s breath hitches. She leans so close her lips brush my forehead in a ghost of a kiss. “Are you sure?”

I can only manage one more word, but it contains everything I need to say. “Yes.”

The pain is swelling again, eating at the edges of my consciousness. But Ivy makes a resolved sound low in her throat and clamps her hand tighter against my side.

Warmth bursts through my torso. It swallows the pain and the creeping numbness; it melts the agony gripping my lungs.

I gulp one full, hungry breath—and my mind spirals away into darkness.

Alek’s voice penetrates through my consciousness first, muffled as it passes through the wall. “Should we try to find a healer, just to look him over?”

Casimir answers in a softer voice I can’t totally make out—something about not knowing who’s with the Order.

I blink, my sense of my surroundings coming back to me. I’m sprawled on my back on one of the heaps of folded blankets that’s served as a mattress in our temporary apartment. Another blanket is draped over me to my shoulders.

Memories of my last conscious moments rush in: the boy, the pain, Ivy’s desperate questions…

Tentatively, I push myself into a sitting position. A faint twinge passes through my abdomen, but more like a bruise that’s nearly finished healing than a fatal wound.

Ivy did that. Ivy poured her riven magic into me, and it fused the injured pieces back together.

No horror pierces me at the thought. Only bemusement at the irony that I’ve been fixed thanks to the part of her that’s broken.

She wouldn’t have done it if she wasn’t sure she could control the consequences in a way I can accept.

She and the others must have carried me back to the apartment. And cleaned me up. My bloodied clothes are gone—I’m wearing my other woolen tunic and pair of trousers.

They left my harness on my left arm but removed the prosthetic, maybe so I didn’t accidentally smack myself with the metal contraption in my sleep. It’s lying on the floor within arm’s reach, gleaming and untarnished as if they washed that up too.

The voices in the other room have fallen silent. Did my companions leave?

I’m about to get up and check when the door eases open. Ivy peeks inside.

Her face both brightens and tenses at the sight of me. “You’re awake! How do you feel?”

“Impressively normal.” I glance down at my side. “I’d almost think it was only a nightmare.”

She lets out a rough laugh. “If only. Let me just?—”

She slips away for a few seconds and returns with a steaming mug. When she hands it to me, a warm, meaty smell fills my nose—it’s broth, both food and drink.

As I raise it to my lips and take a tentative sip, Ivy sits down next to me, leaving a small space between us as if she isn’t sure how close I’d want her to get. She waits quietly while I fill my stomach with a few larger gulps.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks. “With… everything?”

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