Page 63 of Artemysia
“You have parents?”
“My father. Back in Stargazer. You?”
“No.” She clears her throat. “I mean, I did.” Her voice isn’t as raspy when she begins again. “But my mom and dad had five girls, and they sold me—the youngest—to a local baron in Honeygrove for gold so they could move farther south, away from the Syf attacks. Not even that much gold… But they had more girls than gold, so off I went.”
“Was he nice to you?” It isn’t uncommon for poorer families to sell off their daughters into arranged marriages.
It’s Ivy’s turn to snort. “I knifed him and ran away.” She mimics a manic stabbing motion with her fist.
“Is that your solution to everything?”
“I was too young, but he had his way with me every night, hurting me until I couldn’t take it anymore. So I took a dagger to him where he deserved it and ran.”
“I’m so sorry.
“I’m not. You’d be surprised how much of the past you can let go after you stab someone in the right place. His men chased me, but I ran into Riev and he killed them, no questions asked. He just knew. I followed Riev, and he got me into the Academy.”
“Then…?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard. I killed my commander last year. We saw a Syf child feeding on flowers by the East River. She fell into the water when she saw us, and I fished her out. My commander took her to see what she was made of, how she was different.” Ivy’s face crumplesinto a fury of disgust. “Shewasn’tdifferent, inside,” she grits out. “It’s against the rules to torture prisoners. I warned him. But I guess rules don’t work.”
Bile creeps up my throat. “That’s awful.”
“I stopped him, patched her up as best I could, and led her back toward the woods.” Her voice becomes clipped. “Not sure if I saved her. Don’t know if she made it.”
“You made a difference,” I insist. “Maybe she escaped, maybe she’ll grow up and maybe by then, we won’t be fighting anymore.” I bite my lip, not allowing it to tremble.
Ivy doesn’t agree or disagree. Her small hands work quickly as I watch my reflection in the mirror. She skillfully weaves my hair into an attractive reverse fishtail braid, running from the top of my hairline all the way down between my shoulder blades.
I thank her, turning to view my profile to inspect her work.
“Look, Throg. You couldn’t have done this,” she says proudly, waving a hand around my head.
“I’ve packed for you, Morrigan. You’re ready to go. So we have time for one more good fuc—”
I cut him off. “Nope. Sorry to quash your plans, but we need to go. You’ve ruined poor Olivier with your debauchery. Last I checked, he was still asleep, so wake him up and let him know we’re on our way.”
Throg winks at Ivy and obeys me.
Riev reappears, freshly shaved.
“Your stuff is stillall overthe bedroom,” he reminds me, disdain lacing his tone.
It grates on me, so I pretend I don’t hear him.
Clean and cocky again, he pulls back the top half of his chin-length hair and ties it with a band. It reminds me of how his silky hair slid between my fingers as I was guiding his tongue in me—no.Stop right there, sex-crazed brain. Wetness floods between my thighs, and a warm ache coils through me at the memory of that gorgeous face wrapped between my thighs.
He’s caught me staring, and can’t help making a loud-enough-for-all-to-hear comment about how “handsome yet efficient” he is in the morning, unlike “some people.”
I make sure he sees my eyes roll as I tromp into the bedroom tofinish packing, but to my surprise—
My clothes are neatly folded on the meticulously made bed, the room tidied, and my personal items collected next to my pack.
“Bye, Outpost Olivier!” Ivy hollers over her shoulder. “See you on our way back. Next time, I’m in charge and I have some ideas—”
“That was younotbeing in charge?” Olivier mutters as I ride past him. He salutes, and I wonder if I’ll ever see him again.
It’s a half-day ride to the edge of Artemysia. No one dared build another village any closer to the forest beyond Limingfrost.
