Imdalind Ruby Collection One: Kiss of Fire | Eyes of Ember | Scorched Treachery

by Ethington, Rebecca

  “This is bad.” I held her tighter, as though Ryland would just zoom through the air and grab her from me. I checked to make sure the shield was tight around us, just in case.

  “What? Why?”

  I hesitated. I knew Joclyn was powerful, and she was right in what she had said before. She was not a child. I could protect her, but not baby her. This balancing act was tougher than even Talon had warned me about.

  In the end, I knew she needed the truth. Even when I knew what that led to.

  “First and foremost, it is limiting you. Ryland will always go after you. He will never choose to fight me. He will seek you out until he kills you, and if your magic will not work against each other, you are even more limited in your ability to fight him. Ryland would gladly enclose you in a fiery building or drop a semi-truck on your head, but would you do the same to him?”

  “I threw an air conditioner at him. Isn’t that enough?” She probably would have put her hands on her hips if she had been standing. We both laughed at that, the sound cutting through the still air of middle of nowhere Montana.

  “Yes, and I believe that may go down in history as the best counter attack I have seen.” The sound of our laughter quickly faded. “But the second you did, you worried for him. I can guarantee you, he did not do the same for you. If I had not taken you away, he would have crumbled the building underneath you, hurled a fiery car toward you, or flung your body into a telephone pole. What would you have done in return?”

  Silence stretched, and she looked away, jaw tight.

  “You’re right. But how do I overcome that. Why I… when I did… I can’t hurt him.”

  “I know. That is part of what makes you good. Never lose that.” I held her closer, the pain in her voice echoing the tension that filled my own.

  “Never lose that, but also kill my boyfriend?”

  “We will find a way, Joclyn.” My heart ached, my magic firing in lines of white hot heat as I touched the mark behind her ear, feeling the buzz of connection that only I could feel. I dropped my hand quickly, silently cursing Talon for what would be the hundredth time.

  Torture.

  Seventy-Seven

  Joclyn

  “Are we going to be farmers, Ilyan?” I asked, my voice stretched out as I yawned again, my focus on the large farmhouse that Ilyan was slowly descending towards. The place was in the middle of nowhere.

  “No, I have had more than enough of that to last me a lifetime,” he chuckled, his voice full of a million stories.

  I couldn’t think of why Ilyan would choose to be a farmer. The work seemed far too slow and monotonous for a guy who ruled a people, led armies, and was far too skilled at kicking trash in battle. But then again, he had also lived in at least three churches that I knew of. They were both mysterious choices for him.

  Or what I knew of him.

  The guy was an enigma.

  Ilyan veered course, taking us toward a town that was a bit farther off from the farmhouse. Well, by town, I meant one street of buildings that weren’t acres away from each other.

  “Do you see that house in the middle of the main street, the one with a green roof?”

  I looked eagerly toward the center of the town, easily picking out the green roof amongst the brightening buildings. The house was huge. Daydreams of my own bed and bathroom filled my mind. I had lived in close proximity to Ilyan for far too long.

  “It’s not much,” Ilyan said, but I scoffed at him.

  “As long as there is a giant bed in my own bedroom that I can sleep in for the next two days, I will be happy.” I grinned and bobbed happily, Ilyan let out a noise that wasn’t quite a laugh.

  “There is a bed, of that much you can be sure.”

  “A bed?” I asked, terrified. “What do you mean a bed?” I craned my neck to look at him.

  Ilyan looked down on me for a minute, his lips turned up at the corners, before looking away.

  “I mean, there is one bed where we are going.” I didn’t miss the hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  “Not two?”

  “Not two.” He didn’t seem too torn up about this.

  “But the house is huge...” I looked toward it aimlessly, my excitement dashed.

  “We call it the haunted house. We haven’t used this safe house for decades, so I am hoping that if there is a spy they won’t be able to find us here.”

  “The haunted house? Why would you call it a haunted...?” We were close enough to the house now that I could see large portrait windows and the family inside having breakfast.

  “Someone lives here?” I yelled in a panic.

  Ilyan clasped his hand over my mouth as we landed on the roof right against a window that obviously led to the attic. The glass was so old and grungy I couldn’t see inside. Ilyan’s hand moved down my arm to wrap tightly around my unbroken hand, keeping contact with my skin. Keeping me shielded. Safe. Protected.

  I had a feeling he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon.

  “Someone lives here?” I asked in a whisper the second Ilyan had removed his hand from my mouth.

  He looked to me with an exasperated face that I knew all too well, our feet securing us precariously on the steep roof.

  “Yes, Silnỳ, someone lives here. The safe house is in the attic. We will be confined to a very small space for a week, and only a week,” he added hastily as my mouth fell open in panic. “We call it the haunted house because while they can’t see us, they will be able to hear us moving around and talking.”

  “So we are like ghosts?” I couldn’t keep the amusement out of my voice. Despite my horror, this could actually be very entertaining.

  “Ano, and thanks to your nightmares, we are going to be very loud, scary ghosts.”

  I swallowed, my amusement turning to something closer to dread.

  My nightmares. I still needed Ilyan every night when I woke up from my tormented dreams. No wonder he hadn’t been worried by the one bed thing. He was turning into an overprotective older brother. I shook my head and turned to Ilyan who had opened the window to pull me inside.

  ‘We stay in the attic’ had been an exaggeration. Ilyan pulled me into a tiny alcove that was partitioned off from the attic by wood paneled walls. Each wall had a window that looked into the family’s cluttered attic. I could see the windows having been installed for security purposes, but my guess would be that they were actually to prevent someone from going crazy in the eight by eight box I had been led into. The windows mirrored the one we had come from, magic shimmering over the glass to keep the family from knowing we were here.

  Clever.

  “Okay.” I was trying to be positive. “At least there’s a bed.”

  I plopped down onto the bed that took up the whole room, and a plume of dust filled the air. I forced a laugh, which turned into a maniacal crazy sound. I had gone from a studio apartment with a kitchen and a bathroom to a room with a bed in the attic of someone else’s house.

  “It’s only for a week, Silnỳ.” He squeezed my hand and gave me a sympathetic smile. At least he didn’t think I was going absolutely mad considering the sound I was making.

  “Okay, but if the next place isn’t a Murphy bed in a bowling alley I’m going to be disappointed. We have degrading standards to keep up.” I let my snark fly, both of us laughing, and then hacking on the dust that filled the air. “I would throw myself back on this bed if I didn’t think I would die of dust inhalation.”

  I did anyway, thankfully not as much dust exploded out of the mattress that time.

  “Don’t worry, Silnỳ, our next stop is somewhere much better than this. I promise you.”

  “Where?” I asked, sitting back up again.

  “I have a little house in the south of France. It’s right on the beach and has a few bedrooms and bathrooms. It is mine. It is not a safe house. No one except Ovailia and Talon know it’s there. After a week here I am going to take you there until we figure out who has betrayed us and you are ready to kill Edmund wit
h your own hands.”

  “A beach house?” My spirits were soaring already. I had never been to a beach in my life, let alone one in France.

  “Yes.” Ilyan said. “With your own bed.”

  I bounced a bit, sending more dust in the air, as I wrapped my free arm around his neck, bringing his tall torso down to my level.

  “Thank you, Ilyan,” I said. “That sounds perfect.”

  “I am proud to do it, Joclyn.” Ilyan returned the hug, his hand strong against my back, I leaned heavily into him. His arms were so comforting and the wildflower smell of his hair was so relaxing that I found myself slipping into sleep right then. He must have known it, too. I felt his magic pulse against my hand, the heat of his energy growing strong for a moment before receding.

  “Don’t fall asleep yet, Joclyn. I have a surprise for you.” I pulled away, his smiling face greeting me. I stifled a yawn, but he only smiled more.

  “Look, Silnỳ.” I looked away from his intense glance and into the rest of the tiny room.

  In that one pulse of energy Ilyan had completely changed the place. The bed was clean and covered with a new comforter. The carpet on the floor was new, and the walls were white instead of the gross brown wood paneling. There was even a dark blue, black-out curtain over the window. My mouth dropped as I looked at it. It would have taken me hours to create such a change, but Ilyan had done it in less time than it took to inhale, and while shielding me too.

  “I take it you like it then?” Ilyan smiled from beside me. I quickly snapped my jaw shut.

  “I can’t believe you did this...” I let the sentence trail away, unsure of what else to say. He was far more powerful than I gave him credit for.

  “I can take it back if you prefer to sleep on dust...” I only laughed at him and swat his hands down, as if that would stop him.

  “No, no. This is fine. Thank you, Ilyan.”

  “Anything. Now, unless you want to hold my hand for the next week...” Ilyan held our hands up to eye level and squeezed. I didn’t feel awkward holding his hand or being near him anymore, yet being obligated to have him touch my skin for the next week sounded miserable.

  “Uh, no. Shield me please.” I sat down on the new squishy bed, expecting Ilyan to place an immovable shield around the house. It would mean I was trapped again, but I knew there was no other option. I braced for my new prison and closed my eyes to dream about being in a beach house in a week.

  Instead of shielding us, however, Ilyan froze for a minute before coming to kneel in front of me.

  “I want to try something new if you don’t mind.” His voice was soft, soft and mysterious. That tone never led to something normal with him. My guard went up immediately, warning lights firing.

  “What? I will not spar with you here, if that’s what it is. I’m bound to catch the bedspread on fire.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “I want to create a Štít inside of you that will hold some of my magic. It will never infiltrate your body, and I will always have control over it, but this way I can keep a stronger barrier around you as well as be able to track you if we ever get separated.”

  Ilyan had spoken very fast, his voice strained like he was having a hard time breathing. I raised an eyebrow at him in confusion.

  “A Štít?” I repeated. Just when I thought I was getting a decent hold on our abilities, he threw something else at me that I had never heard of.

  “Yes. Think of it like a bubble inside of you that holds my magic. It will help me to keep you safe as well as allow you to leave this tiny room from time to time.” I jumped in excitement, and Ilyan smiled broadly at my response.

  “I can leave?”

  “If you let me do this.” He wasn’t as excited as I was. More warning lights went off and my hope deflated like a punctured balloon.

  “What’s the downside?” I lifted my brow at him, lips twisting. I didn’t want to hear it, but if I was going to do this I needed to know what I was getting myself into. He sighed and looked away, his classic hesitation. I reached out with my free hand and pulled his chin back to face me.

  “Ilyan. What’s the downside?” He sighed again and I ran my finger along his hairline out of habit; it was something I would do to Ryland. I regretted it instantly. His face went blank as he stared at me. I pulled my hand away, screwing up my face like I had eaten moldy cheese, which was actually how I felt inside.

  Thankfully, Ilyan shook it off.

  “I have only done this to someone who has undergone the Zȇlství a few times before. I am not sure how it will work. It could upset the balance between you and Ryland in some way, or it could upset your magic and you could fight against me even more when I try to heal or calm you. It’s a risk.”

  My heart plunged down like a lead weight. Hearing him talk about the connection between Ryland and I breaking made me uncomfortable. Silly, considering that the connection was the reason I was being tracked, the reason I was bound to enter the Tȍuha on a daily basis, a probable cause of my nightmares, oh and also why any fight I would get in with Ry would be utterly pointless. I still wasn’t convinced that one was a bad thing.

  I wouldn’t have to have a Štít if it hadn’t been for my bond with Ry. The only good part about my bond with Ryland was Ryland, and he didn’t even remember me anymore.

  “What if it does break the connection between us? Will my body turn against me like before?”

  “It’s a risk,” Ilyan said, his other hand joining mine. I could still feel his magic surging through me, his shield keeping me hidden from Ryland.

  “And if it does? Do you still have your mysterious back-up plan?” Ilyan smiled at my question, that odd look back in his eyes.

  “Yes.”

  “And what is this mysterious back-up plan?” I asked, hoping to get some more information out of him.

  “Something a good friend told me about eight centuries ago.” He smiled coyly and I could tell that was all I was going to get out of him.

  “I hate cryptic answers, Ilyan! Why do you always have to be so mysterious? It doesn’t add to the good-guy persona very well.” I gave him a look and threw myself back on the bed in an overly dramatic fashion, pulling Ilyan with me.

  “Strangely, I am only cryptic with you,” he said as he pulled me back to sitting. “And I only do it to protect you.”

  “My Protector.” Saying them that time was like a lead weight in my chest. I was starting to understand just what that meant. Just how much danger I was in, and why I would need a protector in the first place.

  “Yes, Silnỳ, and as your Protector, I need to be able to keep you safe.” He paused and looked away from me, the pained look back in his eyes. “Will you let me place the Štít?”

  I understood Ilyan’s warnings, but part of me—a very selfish part—desired the freedom that a Štít might give me. Ilyan ran his free hand over my back, his other still attached to my palm. I wished I had the strength and the ability to cast my own shield—to keep myself safe—but I wasn’t there yet. And even if I was, I knew I didn’t have the focus to keep it up 24 hours a day. I needed to get better at that, at all of it. And if neither of us had to worry about shielding me, then I could train harder.

  I could prepare to kill Edmund.

  With that in mind I didn’t have to think about my answer at all. “Let’s do it.”

  “Lie down, Joclyn.” Ilyan whispered, suddenly tense. This wasn’t boding well for his previous warning.

  I swallowed and laid down slowly, Ilyan’s hand slid up my arm to rest on my shoulder, his fingers never losing contact with my skin. His other hand moved to my other shoulder, leaving his head to hang over me.

  We looked at each other, nerves and a heavy sense of personal-space-invasion creeping through me.

  “Try to push your magic into one place, Joclyn. Move it all to your toes, or your stomach. Focus it somewhere. I am going to have to battle through the barrier you have against me. It may hurt, but the less you fight me, the less it will.”
>
  “You didn’t say anything about pain, Ilyan.” I choked out, second guessing myself.

  “It may not hurt at all, Joclyn. I have never known anyone to be able to fight my magic before, so I don’t know what’s going to happen.” I could feel the warmth in his hands build as his magic congregated right under his skin.

  “But you have done this before?”

  “Many times, Silnỳ. You have nothing to fear.”

  I nodded and pushed my magic down to my toes as he had asked, nodding my head once it was done.

  “Brace yourself.”

  “What?”

  Any protest was lost as Ilyan’s magic flooded me. At first it felt as it always did—warm tendrils circling through my body—but then they began to grow. It reminded me of when I had been sick; when Ilyan’s magic had whooshed into me with a speed I had never expected. It was so strong I couldn't breathe. This time I could feel not only his power, but also a wall inside of me; the force of his magic building against a barrier that I hadn’t noticed until now.

  “Ilyan,” I gasped when the pressure built into a pain.

  “Let me in, Joclyn. You have to break your barrier down.”

  I focused through the pain—tried to find a way to break the barrier I wasn’t even sure I controlled. The pressure grew, Ilyan’s intent to break the barrier obvious. That was when I felt it; what could only be described as a tear inside of me. I focused on it, trying to force it to get bigger. The pressure within me grew and I did the only thing that made sense to me; I relaxed my body, starting at the tiny tear in my barrier.

  As soon as I did, the wall fell away and the pressure of Ilyan’s magic flooded into me stronger than anything I had ever felt. It was pain. It was pressure. I felt as though I was going to explode.

  Screaming, I arched my back in an attempt to escape the pressure and heat which leapt into me. I howled as it continued to build, Ilyan yelling and swearing in a panic as he sat over me.

  Before it became too much, before I felt I would be torn apart by the intensity, it slowed. The heat swelled in a spot inside of my left shoulder and seeped away from the rest of me—the pressure leaving—and my body relaxed.