I wasn’t sore. I wasn’t hurt. My body merely felt heavy and tired, my lack of sleep from the night before and the exertion of the last few minutes draining me. I sunk into the blankets, letting my body fall like a dead weight.
“Joclyn.” Ilyan shook my shoulders, but my body didn’t want to respond. I could hear him. I could feel the desire to answer or reach out and touch him, but I couldn’t make myself do it.
“Joclyn! Please answer me! You must be alright!”
Heat from the spot in my shoulder seeped into me, magic that was unmistakably Ilyan’s crawled through me. It was like lightning and my energy returned, well enough that I opened my eyes to his face, lined with worry.
“Oh, God! Thank you!” He grabbed my shoulders and lifted me into him, my body collapsing against him. “Are you alright?” He pulled me away, eyes dragging over me. I could still feel his magic seeping through me. “Did I hurt you at all?”
“I’m fine, Ilyan.” The words were more like a gasp.
His face lit up at my words, relief washing over him. The tendrils of his magic returned to my shoulder, but the all-encompassing warmth remained, his shield around me already in place.
“I’m so glad. You have no idea…” Ilyan shook his head, abruptly ending his thought.
I leaned forward into his chest; my body too tired to support my weight. “Was that supposed to make me so tired?”
“No, but I may have exhausted your body a bit more than usual. Having to break down your barrier caused an added toll. I can’t normally push that much magic into a person.”
“Why not?”
He hesitated, his body tensing underneath mine. I pulled away to look at him.
“Because I kill them, Silnỳ.” He was serious and I tensed, Ilyan’s magic instantly moved into me, relaxing me. It was odd to have him so willing to calm me; he had never used his magic on me so freely before.
“Kill them? I thought you said that the Štít was safe?”
“It is Joclyn. I could never hurt you. I was just scared,” he pulled me to him, his arms wrapping heavily around me. “So scared.”
He sounded it too, his voice was so accented that I was sure if I hadn’t lived with him for the past few months I wouldn’t have understood him at all.
“How do you know you couldn’t have hurt me, Ilyan?”
“The same source as my mysterious back-up plan.” He winked at me and forced a smile, but it didn’t quite cover up his pain.
I swallowed, hesitating. I knew I shouldn’t ask, but like the fool that I was, I couldn’t help myself.
“You said you killed someone?”
“I was very young at the time. You asked me why I was in the monastery, and that is why. Repentance for my sins I guess you could say. It was an accident and I have since learned to control it.”
“An accident?” Despite being so tired, my mind was now wide awake. Fear at what had almost happened, along with curiosity at a piece of Ilyan’s past, woke me right up. I felt Ilyan’s arms stiffen around me, his unwillingness to let me go evident.
“I was fifteen. I went hiking with my two best friends, Talon who was only eight, and Sarin who was eighteen at the time. We were trying to scale a cliff when Sarin was bitten by a snake. A combination of fear and the snake’s venom froze his magic and he fell about fifty feet.”
I listened to his voice through his chest. He was speaking so quietly that he was barely audible, just a low rumble of sadness, pain, and regret that rumbled in his chest. So much regret, for something that had happened more than a thousand years ago.
“Talon went for help, but I knew I could heal him. My father had taught me how, and besides, I was the King’s son. I could do anything… or so I thought.”
He paused, and I couldn’t help smiling since thinking of him as cocky was quite humorous. Ilyan didn’t like it when people used his formal titles even now. I had done it once in the last month when I had been mad at him, and the glare he had given me would forever be forged into my memory.
“I pushed my magic into him as I had been taught, looking for his injury. I kept pushing as I continued looking, and the more I pushed, the more his body began to shake, the wider his eyes grew, the less he could breathe...”
“And you killed him?” I wrapped my arms tightly around him, keeping my head firmly against his chest. His heart was beating erratically now, the panicked beats echoing through my skull. I wished I knew how to calm him or help him to feel better, however I wasn’t sure I knew how, so I moved closer, holding him.
“Yes.”
“But it was an accident. It didn’t mean you had to hide in monasteries for hundreds of years.”
“I know. But when my father found out what had happened, he wasn’t mad. He was overjoyed to think that his son possessed so much magic that he could kill a man with one thought. I could see then that he wanted my power for his own use, but I only thought it was for a simpler cause. I was so young, so naive.”
“Everyone makes mistakes, Ilyan.” I pulled away from him, and wrapped my hand firmly around his, wishing I could comfort him more.
“I make more than my fair share,” he said stiffly “But no more. I have been careful with my magic ever since, Joclyn. I am very sorry if I hurt you.”
“I’m fine, Ilyan,” I said, shaking him off. “Does everyone hurt when too much magic is used? Could I have…” I had fruitlessly attempted to push my magic into others before—into Ryland. What if I had hurt him?
“No, Silnỳ, this curse is my weight to bear on my own,” Ilyan said, his eyes digging into mine. “Since then, I have perfected my control over it in the last eight hundred years. I will never hurt you, and now, I can always keep you safe.”
I felt the pulse of his magic in my shoulder and my heart dropped right to my toes. Ilyan’s words reminded me so much of Ryland’s promise right before he had been erased. There was a chance that Ryland could still be there, though, and the Štít with Ilyan could hinder my connection with him.
“What happens if it breaks my connection with Ryland, Ilyan? Besides my not being hunted as easily, I mean.” Ilyan laughed at my question and I pulled away from him, already scowling. He just chuckled deeper. The rich, deep, sound so close to his brothers.
“What?”
“You can’t feel it can you?”
“Feel what?” I couldn’t help it, my frustration was seeping through.
“You let your barrier down long enough to let me break in, but now it is as strong as it was before. The Štít may be here,” he said, placing his hand on my left shoulder, right above my heart, “but I still have to fight your barrier to go anywhere else. Your connection with Ryland should be fine.”
I couldn’t help the smile that spread over my face. I probably shouldn’t have been so happy considering all that the connection between Ryland and myself meant, but I couldn’t lose Ryland. Not yet.
My heart relaxed at that and my eyelids sagged closed a bit longer than usual. Ilyan chuckled before lifting and moving my body gently to the inside of the bed against the wall.
My head sunk into the pillow and my body was swallowed by the soft comforter he covered me with. I missed the fabric of a hoodie against my skin, however I was exhausted enough not to let it bother me too much. Ilyan tucked me in, his hands sliding over the blankets and flattening the fabric against me.
“Sleep, Joclyn. I will be here when you wake to take all the bad dreams away.” I smiled up at him—my eyes hooded and groggy—he ran his finger along my jaw line, but my eyes had closed before his finger made contact with my mark.
Seventy-Eight
Joclyn
The dreams never came, yet I still awoke that evening to Ilyan’s arms wrapped around me, his deep breathing in my ear. While I had become comfortable with Ilyan in a lot of ways, that wasn’t one of them. I don’t know what made it okay with the dreams as opposed to without them, but there was a line there. I moved as far away from him as possible—which, unfortunately, wasn’t ve
ry far—while shrugging off his proximity as being an effect of the cramped quarters. After all, where else was he going to sleep?
I pressed my back against the wall to gaze at the dim light of dusk seeping in through the heavy blackout curtains. We had slept all day, and thanks to the absence of the dreams, I felt more refreshed than I had in months. Of course, I still didn’t feel perfect. It had been over twenty four hours since I had last visited Ryland in the Tȍuha, and I was already beginning to feel the effects of that.
Rested in one way, exhausted in another. I yawned widely and pulled the necklace out from underneath my dirty shirt. I sincerely hoped a shower would be in my future today.
I looked at Ilyan, sleeping with his mouth slightly agape, and silently thanked him for not being a snorer before I turned away and plunged my magic into the necklace. I smiled in excitement, looking forward to building a city with Ryland this morning, before closing my eyes and opening them on a disaster zone.
I didn’t know how else to explain it. Ryland had destroyed all of his masterpieces before the last Tȍuha I had shared with him, but now our white space held even more destruction. What had once been perfectly smooth, white walls were crumbling and cracking to reveal dark grey veining and what I could only describe as slime. The entire place looked like it was rotting.
I turned on the spot, but the space was empty as far as I could see. I couldn’t even hear any crying. This time, everything was filled with silence.
I began to walk, making sure not to step on any of the dangerous looking fissures that were lining the floor, my footsteps echoing around me ominously. I couldn’t help the fear that crept up my spine. The air was filled with tension, and my heart was screaming at me in warning.
This deterioration didn’t make sense. Ryland’s behavior in our last visit might suggest a connection to my dreams, but I didn’t know something like this was possible. Everything here reminded me of the nightmares I had been plagued with, not the sweet moments I had shared with Ryland.
“Ryland?” I didn’t dare talk too loud, scared I would find him in the same disgruntled state I had before.
“Ryland?” No answer. I continued walking, my panic growing as the destruction increased.
I had made it about halfway across the silent space when a smell of intense rotting reached my nose. It was sweet and pungent like rotting fruit yet with the terrible undertone of death. It reminded me of the dumpster in the alley behind our apartment complex; the dumpster I had almost died behind. The smell continued to grow as I moved until I could go no further.
I pressed my hand against my face trying to disrupt the smell, but it kept coming in waves of nauseating intensity. My vision began to blur as my brain was deprived of oxygen, so I moved back, still scanning the space where the smell was emanating from. The veins of deterioration increased the further you moved in that direction until the floor became a black mass. Not the gentle black of velvet, but a deep, pulsing mass of oil and dirt.
I felt a pull toward the darkest area. I didn’t need to be told what was over there, I knew it had to be Ryland. The thought of my little friend trapped in that mess made my heart clench. I took a few steps forward only to be pushed back again by the smell.
“What are you doing here?” I spun at Ryland’s small voice, his tiny frame standing behind me.
I looked down on him, surprised to see his face twisted in fear and anger. I had seen that look on him once before, but he had been much older then. Seeing it on the little boy made my stomach flip.
“I came to see you, Ryland,” I tried to speak as normally as I could. “What happened here?”
“You shouldn’t have come,” he replied, ignoring my question.
He wasn’t even looking at me, he was looking behind me at the black mass as if he expected something to jump out at him. I followed his gaze, freezing when I saw that it had moved closer.
“What is it, Ryland?”
He didn’t answer, he simply grabbed my hand and began dragging me away, his little body putting as much of his strength into it as he could. Even with that, he barely moved me. I could still feel the pull toward the darkness, something calling me toward it, however my feet stayed planted as he pulled.
“You have to get out of here, Jossy,” he pleaded, his fear growing even more.
“Ryland? What’s going on?”
He shifted his feet at the question, his eyes still not meeting mine. I could tell he was crying. I kneeled down to him, gently placing my hands on his shoulders.
“You have to go,” he looked at me with pain and fear and anger—everything meshed together in a face that only said heartbreak to me—and then, he firmly placed his palm against my forehead and pushed me away from him.
My eyes opened to the tiny room where Ilyan slept next to me, his mouth still sagging open. I looked around wildly, trying to place what had happened or how much time had passed. The light had almost fully left the sky and the first few stars were now visible from the gap in the curtain. I hadn’t been gone for too long, maybe only ten minutes. An hour in the Tȍuha wasn’t long enough for me to fully recover.
I blinked furiously before dropping the necklace; the cold, lifeless stone becoming more of a dead weight than ever. I wasn’t exactly sure what had happened.
“Ilyan?” I spoke his name far too softly. I knew I wouldn’t be able to wake him that way. But, I didn’t want to. I could still feel my heart call to the black pit of rot in the Tȍuha, still screaming that that was where Ryland was stuck. I knew it was foolish, but I also knew that his memories weren’t completely gone. I needed to get him out.
I grabbed the necklace again and pushed my magic into it, the moldy room flying into view the moment I closed my eyes. I got a glimpse of the black wall, my feet turning toward it when I felt a heavy weight against my back.
“Get out!” The words ricocheted around my head and followed me back to the small attic room, my breathing becoming a frantic pant.
I dropped the necklace again and leaned forward, shaking Ilyan’s shoulder roughly. I hoped he woke up in a good mood. I wasn’t sure how prevalent showers were going to be, and we still had a whole week until we went to France.
“Ilyan?” I spoke louder this time. I needed him to wake up. I was scared and confused about what had just happened.
He inhaled sharply as my voice startled him awake, his body jolting upright. Ilyan grumbled and yelled something in Czech before his brain caught up to his body. His hair waved down his back as he shook his head.
“Ilyan?” I whispered, not wanting to disrupt his waking routine and make him even surlier.
“Joclyn?” He turned slowly, his eyes widening to see me sitting there, awake and not screaming.
“You didn’t have any nightmares?” I shook my head in confirmation. Ilyan’s magic flared in my shoulder, his excitement surging his energy.
“Do you think it has anything to do with...” he stopped himself abruptly, shaking his head.
“With what?” I asked, leaning away from the wall.
Ilyan mumbled something in Czech, his eyes looking anywhere except at me. His lack of response brought back the real reason why I had woken him in the first place.
“Can a Tȍuha rot?” I asked before he had a chance to answer.
“What do you mean?” Ilyan’s nervous mannerisms stopped and he swung his legs around to sit cross legged in front of me. “Did something happen?”
“I’m not sure.” Now I hesitated. I didn’t know how to explain it and I didn’t want Ilyan to do his crazy, headache inducing, mind reading thing on me again. My head was already pounding enough from trying to figure out what was going on.
“I went to see Ryland, and everything had been destroyed more. It looked like it was dying, and then there was this smell...” I cringed at the memory of the stench, my face wrinkling.
I shook it off only to see Ilyan staring at me, his eyebrow raised in confusion.
“When you say ‘destroyed more’ what exactly
do you mean? Was it destroyed prior to this?”
I sunk into myself. Crap. I had forgotten that I hadn’t told him about Ryland’s destroyed artwork, about his outburst or anything that had happened in the last Tȍuha. I had been too wound up in all that had happened with Ovailia that I hadn’t even mentioned it.
I pulled the blanket up around me in a desperate attempt to hide in any way possible as I told him about what had happened the last time. His face grew more and more concerned.
“But this time it wasn’t something that he had caused, Ilyan. It was almost like everything was rotting.”
“What do you mean rotting?” He seemed as panicked as I felt.
“I don’t know,” I sunk back against the wall and closed my eyes, the memory of the place popped right back up. “It almost looked like everything was crumbling away, as though it were a piece of molding bread.”
Ilyan looked at me; his magic pulsed and swelled in my shoulder. The feeling was comfortable and yet...
“It’s the Štít, isn’t it?” My voice was soft.
“I don’t think so,” Ilyan replied hesitantly, but I could hear the strained undertones that had weeded their way through his voice.
“Then what?”
Ilyan stood, his motions making it clear he was going to pace. The small amount of space hindered him, though, so he stood still, fidgeting uncomfortably.
“Ryland reacted negatively in the last Tȍuha before the Štít was placed, so it can’t be that. It has to be something else.”
“What?” I repeated, but Ilyan only went back to mumbling in Czech.
“If I knew, I would tell you, Joclyn.” I could tell he was trying to make his voice soft, but he was irritated. Whether that was because he had just woken up or because of what was happening, I wasn’t sure. But I was irritated, too.
“Just when we solve one problem, here comes another mess.” I held up my hand, ticking off every irritating problem as I went. “Ryland can track me faster than either of us thought possible. He is pushing me out of the Tȍuha, but if I don’t go, I’ll die.”
Imdalind Ruby Collection One: Kiss of Fire | Eyes of Ember | Scorched Treachery Page 54