Regardless, my stomach knots, a mixture of fear and concern taking control of me as shetsks.
“Don't slouch, Ivy,” she commands, and my back snaps straight in an instant. “And those lines on your face will turn to wrinkles if you don't put your face straight,” she grunts, making my chest tighten at her familiar criticism.
Tightening my arms around my middle, holding my towel in place, I try to let her words brush over me, but it’s hard to brush off familiar wounds.
“What are you doing here?”
Tension ripples through the air, mostly oozing from my mother as she adjusts her position on the bed, attempting to remain poised as she slips one leg over the other.
Desperate for a little bit of distance between us, I shuffle around her to hover near the window, and her eyes widen.
“Drawn to the sun, I see,” she states, and my eyebrows furrow in confusion.
“What does that mean?”
She shrugs. “As a phoenix, I thought you would know.”
Irritation vibrates through my body as my defenses rise. “That would require someone telling me,” I retort, and she sniffs dismissively, waving her hand as she looks anywhere but at me.
“Phoenixes are drawn to the sun. The natural heat energizes them.”
That explains a lot.
“Anything else worth noting?” I ask, and she cocks her head at me, her eyes finally returning to mine.
“That depends on what your intentions are,” she states, making my spine stiffen even more.
"Sorry?”
She purses her lips as she stands, brushing invisible lint from her thighs. “Being a phoenix comes with power and control. What do you plan to do with it?” she pushes, and I gulp.
“Nothing,” I confirm, and she scoffs, her eyes crinkling.
“I don't believe you.”
“I don't really care what you think or believe,” I push back, and her eyes darken as her smirk turns to a sneer.
“There's that phoenix ego,” she muses, but tension still ripples between us as she slowly starts to pace back and forth along the bottom of my bed. “My mother was a phoenix, hers before her, and before her,” she explains, sending my heart rate skyrocketing.
“Why have I never met them?” I blurt, unsure why that's the first question that comes to mind, but she shrugs, her nose tilting up an extra inch as she glares at me.
“They threatened my power.”
My stomach drops, my insides turning into ice. “What did you do to them?” I breathe, and she snickers, waving me off.
“Well, they're not dead, they’re phoenixes,” she states, and my fingers tighten around the fabric of my towel.
“What did you?—”
“Whatever I wanted. Don't interrupt me,” she snarls as I gape at her.
She's unhinged as hell.
“Where have you been?” I ask, eager for any information she might offer, and it feels like there are more pressing matters than ancestors I know nothing about.
“You're asking too much,” she retorts, and I scoff, irritation pulsing through my body.
“I haven't even begun. I?—”
