Page 75 of Torn Ivy
“But at what cost?” Cathy finishes grimly, setting a mug of coffee in front of Bram. “To her and to all of you.”
My gaze drifts to Tate, who’s staring blankly out the window. His lack of reaction to Ivy’s condition is deeply unsettling. “Tate,” I say carefully. “How are you feeling?”
He turns to me, his expression neutral. “I’m fine. Why do you keep asking?”
“Because you’re not acting like yourself,” Bram snaps. “Ivy doesn’t remember us, and you’re just standing there like it doesn’t matter!”
Tate blinks, looking mildly confused. “Of course it matters. But we brought her back. That was the goal, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, but...” I start but trail off. This is pointless. It is like arguing with AI. “Tate, what exactly did you sacrifice for theritual?” I ask, desperate to understand what’s happened to him. We have enough on our plate without needing to fix him as well.
He furrows his brow, thinking. “I told you already. I’m not sure. Something important, I think.”
I roll my eyes impatiently as he gives us that line again.
“Try to remember,” Bram urges. “It’s crucial we understand what’s been lost.”
Tate closes his eyes, concentrating. After a long moment, he opens them again, looking troubled. He trails off, shaking his head.
“What do you feel about Ivy now?” I ask, a sense of dread welling up as I think I might’ve just figured it out.
He shrugs. “She is Ivy.”
“And?” Bram grits out, seeming to get on the same page as me.
“And nothing.”
“Nothing? You feel nothing for her?”
Tate shrugs again and turns his back on us to stare out of the window again.
“Your love,” I whisper. “You sacrificed your love for her.”
Bram’s face is a vicious scowl as he comes to the same conclusion as me. “Fuck. That’s why he’s so detached. He literally can’t feel what he felt before.”
“Love?” Tate murmurs. “It’s just blank.”
The enormity of what’s happened settles over us like a suffocating blanket. Ivy has no memories, Tate has no feelings for her, Bram is potentially stripped of his magick, Cathy is stashing blood bags, and me... I’m not even sure of the full extent of what I’ve lost yet, and I’m not sure I’m ready to find out.
37
BRAM
I stare at my hands,willing even the smallest flicker of magick to appear. Nothing. The hollowness inside me is a gaping void where my power used to reside. I’ve never felt so empty, so utterly useless. Tapping into my royal power on a level I haven’t had since I came to this realm was more complicated than I thought it would be. Then, I had to dig even deeper than that. The Ancient Fae are part of my lineage. The Royal lineage. I’m directly descended, not some watered-down version like most of the Dark Fae running around. I didn’t even know I was capable of channelling their shit. To be honest, I didn’t even know it existed.
I fucking do now.
Black veins.
Scarab Beetles crawling under my skin, which raises a whole shit ton of questions.
Fucking vomiting out snakes.
“Err, guys. Where’s the snake?”
“It slithered off into the bushes,” Cathy murmurs. “I wasn’t going to chase it. Should we?” she asks, nose scrunched up but looking determined if the need arises.
“Maybe it’s a good idea,” I mutter, standing up.
