Page 52 of The Daughters of Nyx

Ivy lifted a dark brow, almost like she didn’t believe me. But instead of calling me on it, she shook her head. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just trying to work.”

“I spoke with Queen Greer earlier,” I said carefully, and her eyes met mine. “She has agreed that you may be safer here than in Avalon—at this time. But that doesn’t mean you can remain here indefinitely. She wants you back there so she can monitor the progression of your power and the dreams you’ve been having and start training you to take over.”

“Oh.” Stiffly, Ivy dropped into her desk chair and chewed her bottom lip. “I mean, I guess I’m glad we can stay here longer, but is she really worried about the dreams? They could just be nightmares. Nothing supernatural about them.”

I crossed my arms. “I will admit, I don’t know much about the transition you’ll go through—Queen Greer is the one meant to go through that with you. So I cannot tell you if what you have been seeing has anything to do with your…destiny.”

Ivy shuddered and tucked her hands into her lap. Her eyes moved from me to the dagger I still gripped in my hand. “Did you come here to…stab me, per chance?” she asked lightly, though the humour in her voice was stiff.

I glanced down at the blade. “No, of course not.” I flipped it so I held the blade, and offered her the hilt. “I was intending on giving this to you. It was the first blade gifted to me when I joined Queen Greer’s guard. It protected me when I needed it most, and I hope it can do the same for you.”

For a moment, Ivy hesitated, her wide eyes dancing between me and the offered dagger. Something like surprise filled those amber-flecked irises. “Are-are you sure you want to part with this?” she asked softly.

I nodded. “You need to be able to protect yourself in case anything happens. Your magic is unreliable until you complete three mate bonds, and if something were to happen to one of us, I need to know you’ll be able to strike first and run.”

Finally, Ivy took the dagger, wrapping her fingers around the hilt tightly. “Alright. I guess I’ve always wanted to learn how to knife fight,” she replied wryly, offering me a half-smile that almost made my dead heart beat.

Swallowing hard, I motioned for her to rise. “I want to teach you a few moves, if that’s alright—so long as it doesn’t impose on your work.”

Her lips pursed as she looked between me, the dagger, and her work, but she released a breath. “I’ve been sitting for hours, so maybe it’ll be good to move around for a bit.”

“You aren’t wrong.” I offered her a soft smile and opened her door for her. “What are you working on? I know you write novels, but not much more.”

A soft blush warmed her cheeks as she followed me into the living room. “Oh, I write romance. Regency romance, specifically.” I froze, and waited for the memories to rise to the surface, but as she continued, the darkness didn’t corner me. “I mean, I’ve tried other time periods, but I kind of always fall back to that time. I want to take my writing full time—though I doubt that’ll happen now, will it?”

As she met my gaze, I could see the disappointment flare in her dark eyes. I wasn’t sure what I could say to that, so I didn’t reply. There had been hurt in that look; one that I unthinkingly wanted to fix, to send away.

Instead, I locked away my emotions, the dark memories, and the unfamiliar feelings flooding me with Ivy’s proximity, and instead, taught her basic manoeuvres. How to grip the dagger and keep it from slipping from her hand. Quick, small slashes and wide cuts to keep her out of reach from her opponent, and minimise her opponent’s ability to counter attack.

She flowed through each movement without complaint and with little discussion. She occasionally asked ‘why’, and explaining to her the benefits of each movement—despite how basic they were—brought me a level of comfort I hadn’t expected.

After an hour, Ivy slumped onto the couch and placed the dagger in her lap. “I think I got it,” she said, smiling up at me.

Again, my traitorous heart thumped, albeit slowly. “Yes, you’ve done well,” I replied. “It’s getting late in the evening, and you should eat and rest.”

Ivy sighed, biting her lip. “Are you hungry? I can order takeout. Thea and I don’t really have much in the ways of food at the moment.” Her cheeks turned pink again as she rose from the couch.

“Do whatever you want. I don’t eat regular meals.”

Her eyes widened, and she smacked her forehead. “Right. You’re a vampire. I’m so sorry. I guess I should have known you drink…blood?”

I couldn’t help the smile that slipped across my lips, nor the traitorous stutter of my dead heart as warmth filled me. “It’s alright. I was Changed over two hundred years ago, so blood is my main sustenance, though I can eat human food on occasion—though, I will admit, Fae food settles better than, say, pizza.”

Ivy cocked her head in contemplation. “So, are all vampires Changed?”

“No, some are born. Though both avenues are…difficult.” Images of my Sire destroying a hundred women flashed into my mind. A hundred he’d attempted to Change, but had failed to do. Women I had found for him, because I hadn’t known better.

I cleared my throat and shook my head. “If you would like something delivered, you should do so. Though I will ask that we stock your kitchen with real food as soon as possible.”

Ivy blew out a breath. “Yeah. Okay, I agree to that. Thea and I usually aren’t this bad, but it’s been a busy week.” At that, she stared pointedly at me.

“Understood. Keep the dagger close. On your nightstand, or somewhere you can easily grab it. And I’ll look at getting you a sheath for it.”

The smile she gave me warmed my blood in a way I would never understand, but she swept from the room without another word. After some time, she let me know—through the door—that she’d ordered food, and I alerted Rowan that a delivery was on its way and to bring it up.

For the rest of the night, I listened to her work until the witching hour struck, and she finally left her desk. When she finally got into bed, and the light of her lamp flickered off, I let myself finally close my eyes and imagine what it might be like to have my heart beat again.

18

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