“Do you know what happened to them?”
“She’s dead.” He shifts, causing me to slip a little to the left on his chest. “She was killed over twenty years ago after it was discovered she could absorb the magic she seemed to be immune to and use it against the caster she stole it from,” he says conversationally, as if he didn’t just tip my world on its axis yet again.
“She could do that?” The awe in my tone is evident.
“I didn’t witness it, but that’s what is said.”
“Well, I can’t,” I scoff, thinking how fucking useful that would have been when I was essentially being experimented on. It never even made sense to me why people would want to test their magic against me. So what if it didn’t work? They didn’t gain anything from it either. It made me feel like a sideshow freak, like I was less than those unfortunate souls born with no magic at all, but this somehow confuses me more. Now I really don’t understand why they would test themselves against me if there was even an iota of a chance I could take their power and use it for myself. This can’t be common knowledge.
“That doesn’t mean you never will. You may be capable of even more.” Ziv’s eyes close. He seems completely content, but how can that be if he believes what he just said?
If there is one thing I know, it’s that people revel in their powers. I can’t imagine anyone coming near me if they thought I possessed the ability to steal theirs. “And what? Get myself killed because of it? No thanks.”
“She wasn’t killed for what shecoulddo, she was killed for what shediddo.”
“And what was that?”
“Drain four instructors dead and try to take over one of the other institutions. It was a novice who killed her while she was in the middle of trying to kill the headmaster. She picked up a knife and stabbed her right through the heart. All the other attempts to put her down failed because they tried to use magic.”
“Put her down? You make it sound like she was rabid.”
“She was,” he confirms. “She was killing indiscriminately. Who knows if she would have stopped with the headmaster or even that institute?”
“Did she go crazy or something?”
“I don’t know. I never cared to inquire more about her or the situation, but Syrinx knows. She was the novice who killed her.”
“What?” I snap my head up. No wonder she was on a warpath for me. “Why the hell would she want me here? To keep tabs on me?”
“Syrinx wants to win the games to prove herself or some bullshit. Anyone with true power doesn’t need others to validate it, but that’s what happens when you base your life and future off one lucky shot.”
“So she’s okay with thinking I may be a killer as long as I do the killing for her? Got it,” I snark.
“In that aspect, she expects the same from all the novices.” He’s still not fazed by any of this yet.
I feel like my head is about to explode from all the shit I’ve learned in the past few hours. It seems Ziv really is my mate, and he’s not the only one. Kage, the handsome demon, is apparentlytied to me as well, but those things are almost easy to push to the back of my mind because it doesn’t feel real, not even as I lie next to Ziv. It’s my preconceived potential that has my head spinning. Not only is there a chance I could learn to be a killer, but it’s almost what’s expected of me.
I wasn’t brought to Ivy to be used as a tool to strengthen the others. I was brought here to see if I would become an assassin—one they could use to win some stupid games that mean nothing to me, and if I do, I’ll most likely be setting myself up for my own execution. That’s nothing new, since I expected to die here the minute I got the invitation. What I didn’t expect is how much more frightening that thought would be now that I actually have a reason to want to live.
Even if my mind hasn’t fully accepted the fact that Ziv is my mate, there must be some part of me that recognizes it as the truth, or at the very least wants it to be true. The thought of no longer being alone, of being protected, is more than I could have hoped for.
“I don’t get why these games are so important.”
“They entertain the gods.” He huffs with agitation. Seems like a sore spot.
“That’s what it’s about? Entertainment?”
“That and power. What else is there?”
“I don’t know, life maybe.” I’m being flippant. “So the gods don’t care that people die for their entertainment?”
“No. Believe me when I say they could not care less about how many people die, as long as it doesn’t affect them.”
“Does that include you?”
Ziv tips his chin down so he can see me looking up from his chest. “I’m not incapable of empathy, but if you’re asking if I’ve ever been concerned about any of the novices or even the instructors for that matter, the answer is no. I came here because I’m the best fighter, and combat, even with them, passes thetime. I chose Ivy because it has the strongest contestants, but even then, it’s been mundane. I stayed because I had nothing else to do, not because I cared about the outcome of the games or those participating—until now.”
His blatant honesty doesn’t shock me, and if I’m straightforward, his answer isn’t even surprising. How many times have I ignored another’s conditions if it meant I would survive another day? At our core, we are all selfish creatures. I don’t know why I would think the gods would be any different.
