Bitter Brambles (The Ivy Institute #2)

Chapter 4

brIAR

I t isn’t easy to appear unassuming and get a good look at your surroundings. You have to decide what’s more important—knowing what’s coming for you or trying to hide from it. In this case, my hunger chooses for me.

When my eyes scan the mess—or tavern, as they call it—not many eyes are looking back. There are plenty of people around, but they are all too engrossed in what they are doing to pay attention to two more bodies among them.

I head straight for the nearest line, picking up a bowl and plate along the way. The female ladling up what I assume is some sort of thin soup doesn’t even pay me any mind until I bring the bowl right up to my mouth to gulp the burning liquid the moment she pulls her hand away. I don’t care that she’s watching me like I’m a caged animal, and I don’t even care that my mouth and throat will probably shed skin for days for scalding it so badly. The only thing I care about is not feeling so damn weak.

I shove the bowl back at her after draining it, and she looks to the right of me, where Mick is hovering too close for comfort. He must give her some silent approval of some sort, because she ladles another spoonful into my bowl. I cradle it to my chest as I move farther down the line until my plate is overflowing.

When I drop onto the hard bench seat, a sense of familiarity bites at me. It wasn’t that long ago when I sat at a new table with Ziv, eating food that I hadn’t earned but was almost as desperate for.

I look up just as Mick lowers himself to sit across from me. My hand tightens on the fork in my grip as I fight the dark thoughts tempting me to shove the damn thing in his eye to see if it would make him stop looking at me.

“Don’t let me stop you. I miss seeing the pigs back home.”

If he knew what I was thinking, I don’t think he would be so encouraging, and if he thinks calling me a pig is enough to insult me, then he’s an idiot. Instead of telling him that, I shove a bite of food into my mouth. It tastes like sawdust. It could be because I burnt my mouth on the soup, or it could have more to do with the fact that I don’t even care what it is, as long as it fills the hole in my gut.

There are a few times when I have to stop eating and swallow convulsively because my food is threatening to come back up, but there is no way I’m going to let that happen. Will I regret it later when I’m bloated and have stomach cramps? Probably, but that’s a problem for later me.

“At least you don’t talk with your mouth full,” Mick observes with a snort.

Just to prove him wrong, I ask, “When do I get my schedule?” around a bite of nondescript mush.

He shakes his head in disappointment. I’d bet there’s even an eye roll, not that I bother to look at his face.

“After you go through your assessment. Do they not evaluate trainees at the Ivy?” He places his elbow on the table, leaning in too close for comfort. I don’t lean back like my initial instincts beg me to. I don’t want to show any weakness.

I shrug instead of answering outright. His probing question is giving me an idea. I just need to be patient, and maybe a little aloof.

“When will the assessment be?”

“Soon. How was the food? A bit different than what you’re used to, I suppose.”

“Food is food.” It’s another noncommittal response, but I’m confident I’ll be able to use his curiosity to my advantage. It seems as if he’s just dying to know about the Ivy. I wonder how much that information is worth to him.

After cleaning my plate, I sit back in my chair and allow my eyes to wander, checking out the novices and the space. It’s a dark room for being on the third floor, but considering there are no windows, I’m not all that surprised. I thought I might get a chance to take a look outside, but I haven’t seen a single window yet. It makes me wonder how much colder it would be if there actually were windows to allow even more of the frigid air in.

Nearly everyone is donning a cloak of some sort. I would cut off a toe or two to have one of the fur ones like Mick’s. I try not to let my gaze linger too long on any one thing or person, so it’s hard to learn much of anything, but the overall ambiance is more somber than the Ivy.

“How do you know what time it is?” I question, not in any hurry to get up or return to the dregs.

“Was there a clock on every wall there or something?”

“No, but the windows helped. At least they let you know if it was day or night.” I give him the first taste of an answer about my last accommodations.

“Ah, that wouldn’t help here—not this time of year anyway. We only get an hour or two of sunlight.”

“Really?” I can’t hide the awe from my tone. I didn’t know there was such a place.

“In the summer we get a little more.” He says it plainly, letting me know this is something he’s long been accustomed to.

“No wonder it’s so cold,” I mutter mostly to myself.

“I would tell you that you’ll get used to it, but that would be a lie.” He drums his fingers on the table then adds, “Is it warm at the Ivy?”

“I think any place is warmer than here.”

“You don’t answer a question directly, do you?” Mick muses.

“I can.” I let him hear the possibility in my tone.

“And what would that take?” His voice is a little firmer but nothing to worry about yet. We’re both still feeling each other out.

“That depends on the question.”

“You do realize I could make you tell me whatever I want to know.” His eyes move over my face in a way that makes me want to squirm and get the hell away from him, but I hold my ground.

“You could try, or we could enter a mutually beneficial partnership,” I offer.

He leans back in his seat, his eyes never leaving my face. I note for the first time how gray and stormy the blue in his irises is. I easily recognize the fact that he’s attractive, yet he still repulses me. Part of me understands it’s because he isn’t Ziv or Kage, but there’s another part of me that knows even if I met him before I knew of my mates’ existence, I wouldn’t like him any more than I do now.

“You certainly are entertaining, flower.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snap. Something dark wells up inside me that makes the thought of stabbing him in the eye or even peeling his skin off seem like too small a gesture.

One eyebrow arches up, right along with one side of his mouth. “Hit a sore spot, did I?”

I know instantly I gave too much away, but it isn’t like I had a choice. Not reacting would have been harder than telling myself not to breathe when I know I need oxygen to survive. “You could say that,” I agree. There’s no point in trying to lie.

“Maybe you just needed food.” He considers me as if he’s seeing me in a new light. “You’ve already figured out I want to know about the Ivy. What do you want, Briar?” His use of my name still bothers me. It feels too familiar, but I can’t demand that he call me something else. It would be pointless.

“To start, I want a cloak like yours, made of fur or something similar that will keep me warm.”

“I know something that could get you a lot warmer than a cloak,” he purrs, but there’s no heat in his eyes. It makes me wonder if that part of his persona is an act or if he really cares so little about who he takes to his bed.

“I would die before I let a single person touch me in that way.” I let Mick see and hear the truth in my words. The thought of someone else’s fingers brushing my skin, erasing Ziv’s touch, is enough to make me want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

“You seem to believe that… for now.”

“For always,” I state then follow it up with something I hope will tempt him into taking my offer. “I can tell you about the Ivy.”

“Just about the Ivy? What about the other trainees and tutors?”

“I can tell you about the novices and many of the instructors.”

“Novices, that’s so damn uppity,” Mick scoffs. The way he says it actually makes me look at him, not just examine the way his face moves and reacts. He’s young, probably not much older than me, and just as jaded.

“Are you a tutor or a trainee?” I didn’t intend to ask the question out loud, but it’s there all the same.

“Tutor.” He curls his lips in a sneer, clearly affronted by my question.

I raise my hands in surrender. “We should be called sacrifices or, at the very least, pawns if you ask me. I think both are stupid.”

My response seems to put him at ease. “What do you know of the banshee?” I’m surprised he went right for the top, and it must show on my face, because he adds, “I want to know if you’re wasting my time.”

“I know she didn’t like me very much but wanted to use me.” I hope that’s enough to tide him over, because in truth, I don’t know much about the headmistress.

“I don’t think that makes you or her all that special,” he surmises, and it’s the truth. We all want to use each other, some are just willing to go further to get what they want. How far am I willing to go is a question I’ll have to answer myself at some point.

“The truth is she kept her distance from me. I would be lying if I told you anything else.”

Mick squints at me. “Interesting.”

“Not really. I’m not very likable. Most people keep their distance.”

This time when he smiles, it seems more genuine, and I don’t like the fact that it makes him a little more tolerable. “I was commenting on the fact that you told the truth, even knowing it could make you less valuable, not the fact that you’re not likable.”

“Oh,” is all I manage to say.

“What about the one they call Ziv?” He nearly whispers the name, as if he doesn’t want to be overheard. My heart constricts as if I’ve been stabbed in the chest, but I make every effort not to react. Could it be possible that they don’t know who and what Ziv is to me? I examine Mick, searching his face for clues to see if he’s testing me, and come up empty. I don’t know him enough to even guess at his motive.

“I might know something about him, but that will cost you more than a cloak.” There’s no way I would tell him anything about Ziv that isn’t common knowledge, but I’ll still use it to get what I need. I don’t think my mate would want it any other way. He trained me to do anything in my power to survive, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.

“Like what, and how do I know what you’ll tell me will be worth it?”

“Got anyone else to ask?” I make a point of looking around the dismal room.

“Are you finished slopping up your plate, or are you going to lick the table clean?” He changes the subject without warning. I’m not sure how I feel about it or going back to the dregs without any protection.

“Don’t let me hold you up.” I easily dismiss him and his insult. “I’m sure someone else will be interested in what I know.” I look around.

“I don’t get jealous, Briar.”

“That’s smart, because I don’t belong to you or owe you any loyalty.”

“You do know I could kill you in a heartbeat, right?” Mick seems perplexed by my answer.

“Should have gotten to me a few months ago. I cared about shit like that then. Death is easy. It’s living that sucks.” Without another word, I get up and walk away, leaving him with my empty plate.

My stomach is already starting to hurt, but standing up and walking helps. Now, if I can just find my way back to the dregs or find a dark corner to curl up in. The image of Kage filters into my mind unbidden. I miss my shadow.