“I can’t,” Echo told her reflection.
She pulled her sweater back on, shoved her arms through the sleeves of her leather jacket, and left the mirror and its unwelcome truth behind.
The sight that greeted her at the center of camp was one she would have thought impossible just months ago. Avicen and Drakharin working together. Both accepting her as one of their own. Ivy called Echo over and handed her a plate heaped with roasted meat and vegetables. Echo accepted it with a smile, ignoring the inquisitive glance Caius shot her. She would tell him. Soon. Eventually. Maybe. But not now.
Now they needed her to be a hero. To be the firebird. To be the one thing around which they found the strength to rally. The image of the prayer beads around Sage’s wrist flitted through her mind. She couldn’t let them down. No matter what it cost her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Sweat trickled down Ivy’s back, making the thin cotton shirt stick to her skin. Autumn in Iceland was colder than she had expected, and relentlessly dark. Blink and you miss the sunlight, Echo had said. But here, in this room, there was nothing but the overbearing heat of the fire and the foreign weight of the blade in Ivy’s hand. She tightened her grip on the hilt and stared down the blade at Helios’s grinning face. A stray feather escaped from the loose ponytail she had put her hair-feathers into, but she wouldn’t risk bringing her free hand up to push it from her forehead. One wrong move and Helios would exploit the distraction and bring her down. She would not let him disarm her. Not again.
His grin turned feral and he leaped at her. His movements were so quick, so efficient—not a single one was telegraphed. He was in one place and then, all of a sudden, he was someplace else. Ivy barely had time to react. She pivoted on the balls of her feet, keeping her weight light, remembering everything Helios had taught her about balance. A hand shot out to grab the wrist of her knife hand, but she twisted away just in time. Fingers brushed against her skin without finding purchase. She basked in a brief moment of elation before realizing the move hadn’t been an honest attempt at disarming her. It was a feint.
Her back collided with a broad chest as arms came up to encircle her, pinning both her arms to her sides. She still had a firm grasp on the knife, but it was useless. She fought against the hold, but she might as well have been trying to break free from a cage of solid steel, for all Helios budged. Warm breath ghosted over her ear as he chuckled, low and dangerous, his chest rumbling with laughter.
“Got you,” he said. “Again.”
Ivy spat a curse in the most wicked Avicet she knew. It didn’t have a direct English translation, it was so vile. Helios laughed again. “Such language,” he said. “Wouldn’t have expected something so filthy from the mouth of a dove.”
That’s it.
Ivy slammed her heel down on his instep. His arms loosened but didn’t release her. It was just enough slack for her to maneuver one arm forward and drive her elbow, with all the force as she could muster, into his solar plexus. She felt as much as heard the air rush out of Helios. In the fraction of a second it took for him to recover, Ivy had dropped down, knees bent, and slipped out of the prison of his arms.
Momentum propelled her around to face him. She rose, the knife in her hand pointing up, up, up until she felt the tip of it press against his sternum. One good hard push would plunge it through his flesh and into a vital organ.
Helios stilled. They stood frozen like that, the only movement the rise and fall of their chests. His golden eyes locked on Ivy’s, warm with pride.
“Very good,” he said. “You could have killed me had you wanted to.”
Ivy kept her blade pressed to his sternum. It took some effort to keep her voice as free of strain as his; he was a trained fighter and in much better shape than she was. “You goaded me on purpose, didn’t you?”
His smile widened. “Maybe.” He raised his eyebrows and dropped his gaze to the hand holding the knife. “Do you plan to eviscerate me?”
“Not today.” Ivy lowered the weapon and took two very deliberate steps back. She felt more confident in her footing than she had the day before. It was progress, certainly, but though she was loath to admit it, she knew there was no way she had bested a Firedrake in fair combat. “You let me win.”
“I did no such thing,” Helios said. With a flick of his wrist, he pushed the hair off his forehead. He’d barely broken a sweat. Ivy tried not to hate him for it.
She gave him her best dubious glare.
His expression turned momentarily bashful. “All right, I may have gone a little easy on you.”
“I’m never going to learn how to defend myself if you don’t take this seriously.”
“I do.” He held out one hand and, after a brief staring contest, Ivy placed the knife in his upturned palm hilt-first. It disappeared into the sheath on his belt with practiced ease. “But you also wouldn’t learn if I trounced you every time. You need to know what it feels like to succeed.” Helios winked at her, and despite her annoyance, it sent her heart aflutter. “Even if I have to help you along sometimes.”
“Not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment,” Ivy said, “but is that really the best way to impart your wisdom? Cheating?”
“It isn’t cheating. I’m teaching you a valuable skill. I’m not trying to break your spirit.”
Ivy remained unconvinced. It must have shown on her face—which was probably an embarrassing shade of red from exertion—because Helios’s expression softened. He toyed with the chain at his neck as if it was bothering him. Maybe sweat was making it chafe. “Do you trust me?” he asked.
Her answer came without a pause. “Of course I do.”
“Then accept that I know what I’m doing. You’re not the first person I’ve trained. I used to work with fresh recruits, and trust me, you’re a far better pupil than a great many of them.” He offered her his hand just as he did at the end of every lesson. “Good fight.”
His skin was unbelievably warm against her own. Echo had mentioned that increased body heat was a Drakharin thing—a biological quirk, nothing more—but the heat of Helios’s hand in Ivy’s made her cheeks flush. Hopefully, the blush blended with the exercise-induced one already staining her skin. She had logged several shameful defeats during their lesson—excepting her most recent, assisted victory—and quite frankly, she didn’t need any more humiliation in her life.