“She knew of Briar before coming here. This was planned, not spontaneous. Gods are not impulsive, so that means you told her about Briar and what she is to me,” he seethes, still placing a hefty amount of blame on the headmistress.
“Of course they knew about her. They know of every novice at all the institutes. How else would they make their wagers and decide their allegiance?” Syrinx scoffs. “I understand you’re upset?—”
“I’m not upset. I’m fucking homicidal,” Ziv interrupts.
Her lips thin into a tight line, and she gives him a single tight nod. “Be that as it may, Ziv, I cannot tolerate your insolence. If you make a move against me again, I will be forced to rescind your invitation to the Ivy.”
Ziv’s lip curls up in a sneer that would cow even the strongest among us, but he doesn’t threaten Syrinx, which shocks me nearly as much as his next move. Without a word, he pivots on his boot and stalks out of the room, knocking anyone out of his path who doesn’t have the forethought or agility to move quickly enough.
The room is stunned into silence for a heartbeat, and Syrinx takes advantage by clapping her hands together with a crack so loud it resembles thunder. “Let this be a reminder—strength isn’t your only weapon. I am the headmistress of the most powerful institute for a reason. I earned it, and I will do whatever it takes to make sure it remains so.”
With a dramatic flair, she spins, whirling the folds of her long skirt in an arc as she exits the arena. Several other instructors follow in her wake. I’m not sure if they are going to her to pledge allegiance or if they just want out of the charged environment.
“Return to your dorms,” is bellowed through the space. I have no idea who it came from, but everyone, including me,reacts to the dismissal. I have no intention of returning to my dorm. I have to find Ziv to see what we are going to do about locating Briar.
BRIAR
The cold hard floor is a familiarity I didn’t miss, nor is the stench—musty dampness that permeates the darkened room. This place reminds me of my father’s cellar. The memories from what I thought was my past sneak up on me far too often as of late, making me wonder if I ever really left home at all. Maybe I imagined the Ivy.
The familiar ache that used to fill my stomach now invades my bones, making everything throb with a sense of loss and hunger I can’t quite put into words, not that there is anyone to listen to me. I’ve been alone in here since my arrival. It’s impossible to gauge the passing of time, but it feels as if I’ve beenhere for weeks, though I would bet it’s closer to days. Surely, I wouldn’t survive weeks without food, or would I?
The sound of a bolt sliding through iron has me scampering back into the corner of the room. When the door swings open, I let out a small hiss as I shield my eyes from the light filtering into the space. It’s far too bright to make out who is standing there, but I know it isn’t Ziv or Kage.
The shadowed silhouette speaks. “The Ivy has accepted their recompence. The trade is now complete. Welcome to Frostburn, Briar.”
Any hope I still had that Ziv or Kage would come for me evaporates with the male’s words, and the reminder that I am a pawn, something to be used and discarded, is swift and hard. I was foolish to ever think otherwise. It only makes my reality so much harsher.
If I could speak, I might ask for water or food, but I’m not certain I would be capable, plus I’m not in a position to ask for anything when I have nothing to give in return. I don’t even feel confident that I could mount an argument at this point.
“Are you able to stand, or do I need to send someone in to move you?”
The threat hits as intended, and I scrape myself up off the floor, my legs as weak as a foal’s as my teeth chatter.
“Good, now let’s see if you can make it to your barracks. If not, you might find yourself free game to those who would happily use your pelt for warmth.”
My pelt?Does he mean my skin? Holy shit. I stumble forward, hoping to keep my legs under me. I do not want to fight for my life when I’m not even certain I can walk.
The male turns before I can see his face or any other features beyond the fact that he’s decked out in a heavy cape that I would literally kill for since I’m so cold. You think you’d grow numb toit, but as soon as you move, you realize it’s a lie you tell yourself so you don’t go insane.
He doesn’t slow his pace, so I’m forced to shuffle behind him faster than I feel comfortable with. It’s only Ziv’s incessant demand that I train that allows me to keep up with my escort. Ignoring the pain in my gut and the icy air that feels as if it’s eating away at my skin, I force myself to pay attention to my surroundings and look for details in the dull gray stone that might help me survive in this place, but unless I somehow develop an expert sense of direction in the next ten minutes, the effort will be wasted. It might be helpful if I could remember how I got here in the first place, but I must have been unconscious. I have no other way to explain why I can’t remember arriving here or getting into the room.
The male leading me turns to glance over his shoulder, probably to see if I’m still trailing him since the distance between us has grown a little more than I’m comfortable with, but my legs aren’t cooperating with my feet, and if I try to walk faster, I stumble.
As I look ahead, I notice the tunnel seems to brighten. Flickering flames dance along the roughly hewn stones, promising heat and warmth that frightens me nearly as much as it intrigues me.
“You’ll be in what the elites not so affectionately call the dregs—the lowest bunker.” He faces me, and I stop, keeping several feet of distance between us. “Everything at Frostburn is earned, from the food you eat to the bed you sleep in.” The male looks me up and down, and my skin crawls under his assessment. “There are many ways to earn those privileges.” His voice is low and suggestive, proving my instinct about his appraisal was correct.
“I’ll fight,” I croak, determined to say something for myself even if it sounds weak.
One eyebrow lifts in interest. “Some of us wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I suppress a shudder, knowing his words could be taken two different ways, yet I’m inclined to believe his statement doesn’t align with my intention when I proposed to fight for my food and bed.
I’d rather die than let someone else touch me, even if Ziv or Kage have already forgotten about me. That thought hurts worse than every ache in my body combined, so I shove it down and focus on the moment, determined not to even think their names again.
“Let’s see how you feel in a day or two when the cold starts to bite.”
I want to tell him my opinion won’t change, that I’ll never be desperate enough to fuck my way to a better position, but I’m not stupid enough to pose the challenge to him or myself. Some things cannot be unsaid, and voicing those things allows those with open ears to push fate far beyond the bounds of normalcy.
