The Revolution of Ivy

by Amy Engel

  And people threatened, too. All of us have killed along the way, but not with any pleasure and always with the unspoken awareness that if we kill too easily or often we will become something we can no longer live with.

  But along with the hardships, we encountered kindness in equal measure. A family that shared food with us, a small group that let us stay in their camp, an old woman in a remote cabin who fashioned Ash a crutch of gnarled wood. For every trial there has been an answering blessing, for every loss, something gained. And I was right, too, that day in Westfall, because looking out over the rolling waves I know that this journey was worth every step. It has given us time to mend our broken places inside, make peace with the losses we’ve suffered, and forgive ourselves for the impossible choices we made. And now we’re here, the foam-tipped waves nibbling at our bare toes. A reminder that no matter what damage we do—to ourselves, to each other, to the world—life can still surprise us with its depth of possibility.

  “It’s a long way from Westfall,” Bishop says, echoing my earlier thought.

  “I wonder how they’re doing.” It’s hard for me to picture living a life in Westfall anymore. I’ve grown accustomed to the stars above my head as I sleep, the ache in my muscles as we walk the land. The freedom that comes with defining your world instead of letting it define you.

  “I’m sure Victoria’s whipped the place into shape,” Bishops says, and I smile.

  “If anyone could do it, she could,” I agree. In the end, we stayed in Westfall through the winter after our fathers died, gathering supplies for our journey and helping begin the process of establishing the new government. By the time we left, Victoria was voted in as president for a three-year term, running on the platform of abolishing the arranged marriages and the promise of intermingling the two sides of town. She said after all that had happened, keeping people safe couldn’t come at the cost of personal freedom. We knew it would be slow going, trust between the two sides still a delicate work in progress, but Victoria was as pragmatic and fair as she’d always been, working hard to build Westfall into something better.

  A seagull passes overhead, lands near us with a thump in the sand. It tips its head and studies me with dark eyes. Just the latest in a long string of wildlife I never thought I’d see outside the limits of my imagination.

  I grab Bishop’s hand, his calloused fingers weaving through mine. Hands I know as well as my own now. Hands that have protected me in daylight and touched me in the dark. Hands that I trust with my life.

  “Remember when we were first married?” I ask him. “When you asked me who I wanted to be?”

  Bishop tears his gaze away from the ocean, looks at me with steady, loving eyes. “Yes,” he says. “I remember.”

  I think back to the girl I was when he first posed that question—scared, confused, falling in love with a boy I thought I could never have, unsure who I was underneath the facade my family forced upon me. I’m still scared sometimes, but I know who I am now. I’ve been birthed through pain and sacrifice, through joy and unconditional love. I am stronger than I once was, able to make difficult choices without flinching, but I am not hard. My hands are not clean. But my soul is light. I love deeper than I ever thought possible, know the lengths I will go to in order to protect those I care about. I can survive out here, but I can really live as well. I can kill a deer for our dinner and appreciate the beauty of a lone eagle soaring through a brilliant blue sky. I can hold off a stranger with my knife and share laughter with my friends around the warmth of a fire. I can live with the fear of losing Bishop and love him fiercely anyway.

  “This is who I want to be,” I say. “The girl I am right now.”

  Bishop’s smile is slow in coming, curling from one side of his mouth to the other. His eyes shine. He’s happier in this quiet moment than I’ve ever seen him. “I like this girl,” he says finally. “I always have.” He runs the thumb of his free hand across my cheekbone. “She’s been here all along.”

  I smile back at him, his words reminding me that he’s the person who has always seen the real me, always believed in who I am even during the times I struggled to believe myself.

  “Come on,” I say, tugging him forward.

  “Where are we going?” he asks, laughing.

  “Out there,” I say, gesturing to the ocean, scary and limitless and beautiful. Just like this life we’ve chosen. Just like the love we have for each other.

  I hold his hand and we step into the waves together.

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  Acknowledgments

  The act of writing is a solitary endeavor, but this book would not have been possible without the dedication, hard work, and support of so many people. A huge thank-you to my editor Alycia Tornetta for always seeing what I miss and for putting up with my ridiculous and neurotic emails. Thank you also to Rebecca Mancini, Stacy Abrams, Meredith Johnson, Heather Riccio, Debbie Suzuki, and everyone at Entangled for believing in, and loving, Ivy as much as I do. A special thank you to all the readers, book bloggers, and fans. Your support is priceless and much appreciated. The love and patience of my family—Brian, Graham, and Quinn—allows me the confidence and joy to write. I can’t imagine my life without each of you in it. You are my favorites. Holly, thank you for always listening, encouraging, and understanding. Not everyone is blessed with such an amazing best friend. I know how lucky I am. Meshelle, Trish, and Michelle, thank you for being such tireless cheerleaders and wonderful friends. I love our small gang. To all my other family and friends, your love and good wishes sustain me daily. Thank you. And, of course, no acknowledgment would be complete without a mention of Larry the cat, who still keeps my legs warm while I’m writing.

  About the Author

  Amy was born in Kansas, and after a childhood spent bouncing between countries (Iran, Taiwan) and states (Kansas, California, Missouri, Washington, DC), she settled in Kansas City, Missouri, where she lives with her husband and two kids. Before devoting herself full time to motherhood and writing, she was a criminal defense attorney, which is not quite as exciting as it looks on TV. When she has a free moment, she can usually be found reading, running, or shoe shopping.

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  Experience Ivy’s story from the very beginning…

  The Book of Ivy

  What would you kill for?

  After a brutal nuclear war, the United States was left decimated. A small group of survivors eventually banded together, but only after more conflict over which family would govern the new nation. The Westfalls lost. Fifty years later, peace and control are maintained by marrying the daughters of the losing side to the sons of the winning group in a yearly ritual.

  This year, it is my turn.

  My name is Ivy Westfall, and my mission is simple: to kill the president’s son—my soon-to-be husband—and return the Westfall family to power.

  But Bishop Lattimer is either a very skilled actor or he’s not the cruel, heartless boy my family warned me to expect. He might even be the one person in this world who truly understands me. But there is no escape from my fate. I am the only one who can restore the Westfall legacy.

  Because Bishop must die. And I must be the one to kill him…

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