Bitter Brambles (The Ivy Institute #2)

Chapter 3

brIAR

S lipping through the door without being noticed is easy. There aren’t any guards or sentries waiting for my arrival.

My first observation is that the space is much larger than I expected, but barracks is the correct description. There are bunks that sleep two lined along each wall, leaving an aisle between them. I tuck myself into the corner, hoping I will continue to go unnoticed until I can get a sense of the space, but when I step on a pallet on the floor, I realize this isn’t just a dark corner, it’s someone’s corner.

I move my foot off the crumpled blankets but otherwise stay put. My only other choice is to walk straight down the center of the beds, and I’m not ready for that. Not only is it a long room, which I’m not sure I could cross without needing a break, but it would mean everyone could see me.

“Where have you been, Kyle?” The voice comes from the bottom bunk. I want to curse the fact that I’ve been noticed so fast, but instead I debate whether or not I could pass for Kyle and just give a noncommittal answer.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, birdbrain.” The voice grows harsher, and then I see a face poke out of the side of the bed, her pale gray eyes narrowed in my direction. The quick way the same eyes widen in shock would be comical if I wasn’t just as surprised by her sudden appearance.

“I’m not Kyle.” I manage not to sound half dead, which I have to take as a win at this point.

“I can see that.” She smoothly pulls herself out from under the bunk and gets to her feet. Her gaze is wary, and I hope that means I don’t look as pathetic as I feel and she will just let me curl up somewhere and lick my wounds before she challenges me for breathing. I’m confident that if I wasn’t freezing to death, and if I’d eaten in the past few days, then I could at least give her a run for her money… maybe.

“Who are you and why are you in Kyle’s bed?”

“I didn’t realize people had dibs on floor space,” I retort with what I hope sounds like bravado.

“You earn what you get,” she says, repeating the same sentiment as the male who left me here. “Did you do something to Kyle?” She looks me up and down.

“Not unless Kyle was one of the bugs I killed in my cell.”

“Cell?” She tilts her head in a show of curiosity.

I don’t want to deal with her, whoever the hell Kyle is, or anyone else for that matter. I want a blanket and a leg of lamb to gnaw on. “You answer my questions, and I’ll answer yours,” I propose.

“Or I could beat it out of you.” Her comeback is quick, as if she was anticipating such an offer.

“You could try, but I will warn you. I’m fucking freezing and desperate, and I bet wearing your skin would warm me right up.”

Her eyes bulge. “Gods,” she mutters as if the idea is insane, but I can’t even take credit for it. The male planted the thought in my head, and now skinning someone doesn’t sound half bad.

“When and where can I get food?’ I pose the question before she has time to realize I’m too weak to do much more than stand here and run my mouth.

“We only get access to the tavern when it’s our turn. Where’s Kyle?”

“No clue. When is that?”

“You could risk going now. Who are you?”

Something about the way she says “risk” gives me pause. “Briar. Why is it a risk to go now?”

Her face scrunches up when I say my name, like she thinks it’s horrible, not that I can argue. “Wandering around after dark is always a risk.”

I take a chance by looking away from her in search of a window, or any other means to identify the time, but if there is one, I can’t find it. I recall the three people who left the barracks just as I entered. They didn’t seem too worried about it being after dark. “How do I find the tavern? Be very specific.” I don’t tell her I suck with directions and I’d be lucky to find it even if she drew a fucking map, but I’m sure she gets the message.

She crosses her arms over her chest. “You think I have it memorized turn by turn or something? It’s on the third floor, west wing.” She rolls her eyes, which makes her seem young for the first time.

“What floor are we on now?”

“You haven’t answered any of my questions.”

“You haven’t asked any I could.”

“Where did you come from?”

I hesitate, thinking about my answer. If I tell her the Ivy, it could go either way. She could think I’m strong and not want to mess with me, or she could see me as a challenge she wants to best. If I lie, it may come out later, and that could be worse. Damn it, I hate feeling trapped. “I was traded from another institute.”

“What?” she scoffs, clearly not believing me.

“You have one more question,” I grit out through my teeth, pissed that she doubts me. Apparently, my pride got an undeserved boost while I was at the Ivy.

“Why are you here?” She doesn’t have to think about her question at all, it just flies from her mouth almost immediately.

“The same reason you are. To play a stupid fucking game for the gods.”

Her eyes grow wide again, but this time she looks around as if to see if anyone else heard my answer. “You better be careful talking like that. Someone is always listening.” She takes a step back from me, and I know without a doubt if I challenged her right now for her bunk, I would win by default because I’m certain she would walk away. Something about what I said frightened her, or maybe she’s afraid of whoever she thinks could be listening.

Whatever the reason, I use it to my advantage. “Tell me how to get to the tavern, and I won’t take your bed tonight.”

“Take the stairs across the hall up six flights.”

“Six flights?” I can’t keep the horror from my tone. “You said it was on the third floor,” I remind her.

“Yeah, you’re on sub three. I think you can do the math.” She’s getting a little more confidence back, so I should leave soon.

I spin and mutter, “Where’s a fallen when you could use one?” Climbing six flights might kill me, but I’d rather die trying to find food than crawling under a bunk and wasting away.

“I won’t need to worry about you taking my bed. You’ll be dead before the night’s through talking like that.”

I look over my shoulder to see the female dart her eyes down as if she didn’t expect me to respond. “I’d never be that lucky.” I push out the door with pure spite as my motivator.

The stairs I came up from are right in front of me, and there’s another set leading up next to it. I take one deep breath then begin my climb.

The first flight isn’t even that bad compared to getting my ass kicked by Ziv, but by flight four, the only thing keeping me on my feet is the fear of falling backwards if I stop. My legs are on fire, and so are my lungs, but at least I’m not cold anymore.

A soft wail leaves my lips when I see the stone ground of the third floor. I can smell the aroma of food, but my gut is telling me I will hurl up anything I put into it. Still, I lift my feet the final few steps then promptly collapse like a limp noodle as soon as I clear the stairs.

My elbow throbs with a steady hum of pain after taking the brunt of my fall. At least I was smart enough not to land on my face. That’s how I console myself, face down on the dirty floor.

I must pass out for a blissful moment or two, but the sound of voices rouses me enough to push myself up off the floor. They are too distant for me to hear what they are saying—that, or I’m too exhausted to make heads or tails of their words, which could be a definite possibility.

“I thought you might find your way here,” a smug male voice drawls. “Took you long enough.”

I don’t have to look up to know who it is, though I don’t know his name or even care to. “You could have done me a favor and carried me,” I retort, beyond caring about repercussions.

He chortles softly. “I can’t decide if I should kill you myself or watch the trainees eat you alive.”

“Believe it or not, I’m not that easy to kill. Might as well let someone else do the dirty work for you.”

“You might be right, and it would be far more entertaining.”

“What’s your name?” I ask since I’m clearly too dumb to keep my mouth shut.

“Why, do you want to know what to whisper while your hands are between your legs?” He looks me up and down again.

“I make it a habit to know who wants me dead,” I reply without rising to the bait of his leer.

He cracks a smile again, showing off a dimple. It would look nice with one of the knives Ziv gave me piercing it. “Mick,” he answers. I’m surprised, but I’m not sure if it’s because he answered or the fact that his name doesn’t fit him at all.

“I guess your parents didn’t have high hopes for you.”

“Says the flower,” he grates out with a look of scorn, and I know I pushed a little too far.

“I think it was more about the thorns. I killed my mother during childbirth, ripped her apart from the inside.” I don’t know why I’m telling him this. I can only use my exhaustion and hunger as an excuse.

“You are a prickly little thing,” he comments, no longer staring daggers at me.

“I’ll make you a deal,” I offer, knowing I’m in no position to bargain.

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this one.” He settles back on his heels with his arms crossed.

“If you let me eat, I’ll stop talking.”

He blinks a few times then snorts. I’m not sure what his answer will be until he pushes the door across from me open and waves me inside. The smell of food and the promise of a full belly carries me past him and over the threshold.