Mated To My Mate's Worst Enemy (ARIA) novel Chapter 625

Chapter 625

ARIA

Three days and I had nothing.

Not nothing exactly — I had the gap, I could feel the gap, Silver could feel the gap with the specific certainty of something that was present and real and located in the architecture of the root's attachment point in the place where Ivory's analysis had assumed binary and the reality was something else. The gap was real.

What I didn't have was the language for it. The specific articulable alternative that I could bring to Ivory and say *here, look at this, you missed this specific thing and this specific thing means the failsafe works differently than you analyzed.*

Silver could feel it.

I could feel it.

Neither of us could explain it in terms that would survive Ivory's scrutiny, and Ivory's scrutiny was the only scrutiny that mattered for this specific thing, and without surviving it the feeling was just a feeling and a feeling was not enough to stop someone who'd made a decision four years ago and had been working toward it since.

The morning of the third day had arrived with the specific quality of a deadline that was not going to extend. I'd been in the eastern garden before dawn, Silver fully present, working through the root's architecture with the focused attention of someone who knew the time was almost gone and was trying to find the thing before it was.

And Ivory was humming.

I'd heard it when I came in from the garden — the specific sound of someone in a genuinely good mood, the kind that was either entirely authentic or the precise performance of authenticity by someone who'd decided the performance was useful. I couldn't tell which it was, which was unusual. I was generally good at reading Ivory now.

She was in the clinic corridor when I passed, carrying a stack of compound files with the ease of someone whose morning was going exactly as intended, and she was humming something that I recognized as the theme from a drama that Jordan had been watching in the common room and that had apparently gotten lodged in the pack's collective ear.

She looked up when she saw me.

"Morning," she said. Cheerfully.

"Morning," I said.

She looked at me with the assessment — brief, complete, filed. Then she went back to the files.

"Sleep well?" she said.

"Fine," I said.

"Good," she said. "Lots to do today."

She walked away still humming.

Silver said: *That's worse than the clipboard.*

*I know,* I said.

*The fury was better than the cheer,* Silver said.

*Much better,* I said.

---

The skipping happened at noon.

I was not certain at first that it was intentional. Ivory moved through the clinic with the specific efficient purposefulness that was her baseline, and the step she was doing had a quality that was adjacent to skipping without being fully skipping — more of an elevated step, a specific lightness of movement that communicated someone whose internal state was expressing itself without their full endorsement.

Nina appeared beside me in the corridor.

We both watched Ivory skip-step around the corner with a tray of compound vials.

"Three days ago," Nina said quietly, "she broke a clipboard."

"I know," I said.

"Today she's skipping," Nina said.

"I know," I said.

"Jordan thinks she's building toward something," Nina said.

"Jordan is right," I said.

"Do you know what," Nina said.

"I know she's running out of patience," I said. Which was true. Which was not the full truth. But Nina didn't have the full truth yet and I was still trying to get there before she did.

Nina looked at the corridor where Ivory had disappeared.

"She's ignoring Kael," she said.

"I noticed," I said.

"Not the angry ignoring," Nina said. "The other kind. The kind where she's so present and cheerful in every room except the one he's in that the absence of her is the loudest thing."

"She's making a point," I said.

"She's always making a point," Nina said. "The question is what the point is today." She looked at me. "Aria."

"Yes," I said.

"Is there something I should know," she said.

I looked at her.

At Nina's face, with the thirty years of knowing Ivory in it, the specific quality of someone who'd been watching their family member count down to something and was starting to understand that the countdown was not about the Convention challenge.

"I'm working on something," I said. "Give me until tonight."

She held my gaze.

"Tonight," she said.

"Tonight," I confirmed.

She looked at the corridor.

"She's skipping," she said, one more time, in the tone of a woman who was filing this under things she was going to think about very hard.

---

Kael found me at three in the afternoon.

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