Don’t move; don’t let them know you are here.
Ovailia sat in one of her many large, carved chairs, filing her nails as if she was bored out of her mind. In the corner of the large room, a man was crumpled and chained, his own blood staining his clothes and dark beard. The beaten man moaned and rocked as his fingers clawed against the wood of Ovailia's floor, large scratches appearing as black sparks flew from his fingertips.
My father stood in the middle of the room, Timothy’s short, squat frame barely enough to hold Talon’s wavering form steady, his neatly trimmed beard glistening with blood I knew didn’t belong to him.
My whole body jolted at seeing Talon. I saw him, but I felt nothing aside from my own fear. There was no magical pull alerting me to his presence, no surge that would have normally filled the air. What had they done?
Edmund paced the floor in front of Talon, his tall, muscular body draped in black as he smiled wickedly toward him. Edmund moved to slick his curly hair back against his head, and my stomach muscles tightened, his knuckles were bloody from having turned my husband’s face into a punching bag.
I watched them for only a moment before my eyes narrowed, my back straightened, and even through the fear and stress, I knew what I had to do. The shield around me was strong enough to block me from sight as well as hiding any magical signature I might have been broadcasting.
I let one breath escape my lips before I walked into the room, careful to keep my steps silent, my eyes watching the reactions of all those in the room, wary of being noticed. No one reacted or even looked in my direction.
My chest loosened, although just briefly. I was not walking into a surprise party—I might as well have been walking to greet my death.
“Tell me what I need, Talon, and I won’t hurt her.” I froze at Edmund’s words, his voice dark and chilling. I turned toward him, worried he had seen me.
His focus was not on me, however, it was on Talon, whose face was already swollen and bloodied at Edmund’s hand. I restrained a shout as Edmund pulled his arm back, his fist glowing white, before a strong sucker punch to the gut winded Talon with one shot. I froze as Talon grunted in pain, my magic attempting to escape.
“What about the rest of your men, Edmund? What would they do to her? I know how your deals work.” Talon’s voice was broken and pained, blood spattering around him as he forced out the words.
“Oh, we won’t kill her if that’s what you are asking,” Timothy said, my father’s voice full of pure enjoyment. Edmund only smiled at his response before wiping his hand on a bright white cloth, smearing it with red.
I moved toward the back of the room, my magic crackling under my skin as it kept the shield in place. The angry energy rippled through me in a raw need to attack, but not yet. If I began an attack now, I would be dead before I could get within reach. It was all about the timing. Running in to face the three most powerful people in the world was only a death sentence. Hell, attacking them on my own was a death sentence. Still, I wasn’t scared—a fool, yes, but not scared.
I stared at Talon’s face as I moved. My conviction growing as my magic surged. I would protect him, just as he would me.
“And the others? Will you hurt them, too?” Talon asked, his voice continually fading.
I fought the urge to run to him, choosing instead to knot my fingers around each other, hoping the tension in the small joints would dispel the panicked anger that was building in my heart.
“Oh, what do you care?” Ovailia snapped from the chair she sat in. “It's not like you are their rightful leader anyway.”
“Very well put, Ovailia,” Edmund said with true pride in his eyes. “She was always my good child,” he said, more to himself than to anyone. “Took us a bit to break through Ilyan’s spell and get the information I needed, but we got there in the end.”
“Will you hurt them?” Talon repeated, his jaw tightening.
“Save who you can, Talon. Don’t worry about the others. They will be in capable hands, I promise.” Edmund leaned down close to him, his lip sneering only millimeters from Talon’s face.
“Give me what I need, Talon,” Edmund snarled.
“You better make it look good, Edmund.” Talon laughed deeply, his voice loud as he taunted him, while Timothy strengthened his hold at the sound.
Talon’s eyes widened as he attempted to fight against my father’s hold, yelling out. The struggle only lasted a moment before Edmund placed his hand against Talon’s skin, his struggle for release turning to one of agony as Edmund’s magic seeped into him, the powerful attack torturing him.
No.
I didn’t know if this would work, I couldn’t harness the power beyond busted door frames, but I had to try. I slipped my right shoe off, letting my skin come in contact with the floor of the cave. Even through Ovailia's carefully preened wood floors I could still feel the energy of the caves. It prickled up my spine and down into my arms. I smiled as it seeped through the rock of the cave and into me. It flooded me as the power controlled me.
For the first time. I felt as though I could control it. As though it was part of me.
Now. I stomped my foot to the floor, a rumble spreading out from me as I shook the wood and stone. Edmund swore as the energy hit him, the power rushing up into him. I focused as my magic spread from the floor and into Edmund and Timothy. They called out as their bones grew and vibrated, the pain of my attack sending them to the floor.
“No! It can’t be!” Ovailia stood in fear as I took a step forward, each hit of my skin against the ground sending more ripples of energy across the surface and into Ovailia as well. All three writhed with pain as I lifted Talon with my magic and pinned them to the ground.
“Wynifred!” My father's voice yelled as he fought against the painful restraints my magic held him in.
I moved forward to grab Talon just as Edmund broke the magical bond that surrounded him. His voice howled as he stepped forward, blocking my path to my mate, his eyes boring right into where I stood.
I wanted to say he couldn’t see me, but the way his eyes bored into me, I was sure he could. I froze, carefully calculating the possibilities and my chance of survival.
I knew it was low, but right then, I didn’t care. Right then, I just wanted Talon, even if it meant we would die in each other’s arms. Not that I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“You will live to see Talon again, Wynifred.” I froze at the voice that rasped through the air, the familiar tones triggering some long forgotten memory. I didn’t dare turn to see who had spoken. I trained my eyes on Edmund’s fingers as they flexed and glowed.
Edmund sent a surge shooting toward me without even a flex of energy. I threw myself to the side, the heat of his attack warming my skin as it grazed the air beside me. I caught my scream in my throat as my body landed roughly against the wood floor, sending more ripples through the stone and everyone to the ground.
“Run!” The voice came to me again, the yell pounding into my head.
I didn’t want to listen. I didn’t want to leave Talon. I could hear each beat of my heart as it begged me not to. Hear the voice’s statement echoing around my head. Talon would live. I wanted to believe him.
I needed to believe him.
I jumped to my feet before anyone else had a chance to find theirs. I looked one last time toward Talon, my feet feeling like lead as they carried me away from him. I ran down the hall, their screams following me as I bobbed and weaved through the web of halls.
I didn’t look back. I didn’t dare. I only had a matter of minutes before they would regain their strength. I needed to draw them off my path while I figured out what I needed to do next.
I attempted to slow my heartbeat as I ran, but it was no use. Edmund was inside the caves of Imdalind. Edmund had gotten past Ilyan's protections, and Ovailia was the one to guide him through.
Ovailia had betrayed us all.
My soul froze as screaming began to fill the halls. The sounds of battle exploding.
The cave vibrated as the battle increased, screams ricocheting around the stone halls as the battle broke out all around me. I changed my direction, charging right toward them.
Edmund’s final execution had begun. Only one race stood between him and the wells of Imdalind, and if Edmund had his way, there would be nothing left by the time the sun rose.
Edmund had started a war, and I was not going to back down.
Eighty-Five
Wyn
I ran through the halls toward the screams, the shouts increasing the closer I got to the battle. I couldn’t deny the throb that wished to run into my father, to end this before it even had a chance to begin.
Each step I took thundered through the underground tunnels, shaking lamps and doors, each step recharging my magic and sending my magical currents surging.
Flashes of light filtered along the dark stone, the screams chasing the shapes as they rippled through the once dark halls. I passed a raging fire, not turning to see what was keeping the blaze going as I ran, my feet taking me toward the loudest concentration of noise. But, as I turned into another hall, I froze in place.
This was where it had begun. I could tell by the splatter of red on the walls, the screams that still lingered in the air. I could tell by the lifeless bodies of my friends that littered the ground, left to die with no one to hold them.
I fought the panic that rose in me, the hopelessness that tried to take hold; instead, choosing to let my anger and conviction fuel me. I tiptoed around at least twenty of my friends; selfless people who had taken me in and loved me after my father had tried to kill me. My father.
He had brought enough Trpaslíks into Imdalind to begin and end a massacre in one swipe.
This couldn’t be happening.
I raced into another hall as I pulled out my phone. My heartbeat was erratic as hate and anger fluctuated through me in a surge that only hyper-activated my magic.
The phone rang in my ear as I ran, the loud thrum vibrating through my head and mixing with the frantic beat of my heart.
“Pick up,” I growled to myself, turning a corner as I made my way toward a seldom-used row of apartments. “Pick up, Jos! Jos, pick up the phone!”
“Wynifred! What’s going on?” I had never been so happy to hear Ilyan's voice. I could have kissed him, cried into him, and thanked him for saving us; but I knew he couldn't save us. I wasn't calling for a savior; I was calling with a warning.
“Ilyan? Oh, thank Heavens!” I yelled into my phone, one knot in my stomach loosening while another one tightened.
“Wynifred?” Ilyan boomed, his commanding voice seeping into me through the phone. “Where is Talon?”
“They got him, Ilyan,” I panted as I ran, my eyes threatening tears. I would not cry, not right now. “They took him. I think...”
I turned from the darkened hallway into a place that was never used, a place I had hoped I could hide, only to find my father standing in the middle of the dark stone-walled room. My words dropped off my tongue as I saw him there and I froze for a moment. It was a moment too long.
A loud crack echoed through my ears as a powerful attack impacted with my spine and sent me across the large room to collide with the rock wall in front of me. My head hit the wall, my bones and joints rattling hard enough to vibrate through me in a claw of pain. The pressure increased as I hung there, Timothy and Ovailia’s laughter loud in the quiet space.
“No! Please don’t!” I screamed, feeling them come right up behind me. The force on me increased and my scream followed, louder this time.
“Father! Please don’t!” I shouldn't beg; I knew it was pointless. “Don’t let them hurt me.”
No sooner had the words left my mouth that I was flung through the air again, my hands sparking as I attempted to find someone, anyone, to attack. The movement was too quick, the flight too short, and before I knew it, I was stretched out on the hard floor, my father restraining my hands above my head and Ovailia standing over me in an oppressive straddle.
I looked away, desperate to see anything other than the wicked sneer of the blonde above me, only to see the still lit screen of the cell phone reflecting off the dark stone.
“Ilyan!” I screamed, knowing I might not be allowed to live after this point, and hoping that my last warning was not my final goodbye.
Ovailia's eyes went wide, her head whipping around in fear as I yelled her brother's name.
“Run!” I yelled. “It’s Ovailia!”
It did not take her long to locate the light, one pulse of her magic destroying the small box. I only hoped my warning had reached them before the line had gone dead.
“Nice try,” Ovailia said, her voice heavy with indifference and anger. “But sadly, I don't think it’s going to work.” She smiled, and her face lit up like a maniac. Ilyan would get the same light when going into battle, but instead of giving hope, this one twisted my spine and rippled through my stomach.
Cold fury was raging inside of me.
“You have no idea what you are up against,” I snarled, happy to see her recoil.
“Oh, don't I now?” Her crazed energy came right back into her face.
My father laughed from above me, the pressure on my arms increasing as he pulled them, the tendons in my shoulders pulled to their brink. His magic flooded me, cold spike digging into every muscle, making it impossible to move. Even my magic wouldn’t respond against the chill. I winced and Ovailia laughed right alongside my father, the ringing of her cell phone drowning out the noise.
“I think I know exactly what I am up against,” she said as she pulled the phone from the pocket of her designer jeans. Timothy's hold on my hands lessened as one of his hands moved down to cover my mouth.
“Now, princess,” he said, the once sweet pet name spoken with acid, “don't try anything stupid.” His hand cupped the entire lower half of my face, the pressure arching my neck back and making it difficult to breathe as he pushed my head painfully into the stone floor. I fought against him, yelled against his palm. “It wouldn’t take much to kill you, Wynifred.”
Timothy increased his grip and Ovailia smiled at me before putting the phone to her ear, her face and voice changing the second the line connected.
“Ilyan? Ilyan, where are you?” Ovailia said, her voice thin as she pushed emotion into it. “Please tell me you are all right.”
She began to pant as Ilyan spoke, the movement of her voice making it sound like she was running.
“They took her,” Ovailia said sharply, her voice panicked. She looked at me before firing a stream of light into the wall of the room, causing a giant explosion that rocked the floor of the cave. “They took Talon, too; I don’t know where he is…” She gasped, panted, winced and screamed softly, each action perfectly placed to make it sound like she was fighting someone.
I knew I had to fight Timothy. Ilyan hadn’t heard my warning and she was leading him into a trap. My father's grip increased and I winced again, the sound of my scream adding to the web Ovailia was weaving.
“I wouldn’t fight if I were you,” Timothy hissed in my ear, the heat of his breath uncomfortable against my skin. “You wouldn’t want something to happen to that mate of yours.”
My body relaxed as if on a switch. I felt like a puppet, a foolish, little girl who could only do what her father said.
“…But Timothy dragged Wyn off,” Ovailia finished, her false exhaustion picking up.
“Father, Timothy,” Ovailia said, and I heard Timothy's faint chuckle from right above my head. “There are hundreds of them.”
Hundreds. I knew it was true. I had seen the bodies, smelled the blood and the smoke. Edmund had planned this attack well. It was to be his final attack. He wasn't going to let anyone survive. He wouldn’t stop until he killed them all.
“I don’t know how they got in,” Ovailia continued, giant crocodile tears rolling down her perfect cheeks and cracking in her voice. She smiled at me, the tears glistening as she flipped her hair.
My stomach clenched, and my magic crackled between my fingers as it fought against Timothy’s hold. I hated her. I regretted never saying it before, never seeing who she truly was before. She was evil.
“Our whole city... I don’t know how many are going to make it out.”
I groaned and fought him again; I wanted to claw at her face, to stop this, no matter how futile it was. Timothy stretched his arm out and away from my head, pulling my arms until I felt the tendons in my arms pop. I screamed, and he released his hand from over my mouth just long enough to let the sound flow through the phone.
I panted as the tendons in my arms began to repair themselves, the pain lessening as my magic covered it.
“I can try,” Ovailia said, her voice more disappointed than anything else.
She nodded once to Timothy who stretched my arms again. What little repair my body had been able to produce shattered as my scream rent through the air around us, the rumble of explosions overlapping with the sound of my pain.
“And you, Ilyan.” Ovailia smiled and tucked the phone back in her pocket. Her wicked eyes never left mine as she bent closer. Her hair fell around us like a curtain, the effect increasing my terror at being trapped between the two of them. I sucked in breath as Timothy released my mouth, his hold on my hands loosening just enough to let my body begin to heal.
“We will destroy you,” Ovailia said, her voice hard.
I just met her gaze. I had nothing to say to her. I could rebut. I could be scared and give her what she wanted. I did none of that. I did, however, choose to laugh. It wasn't the wicked laugh of my father or the taunting laugh that had just graced Ovailia’s lips, it was light and joyful, the change in mood jarring.
They were already celebrating, and I felt my father’s magic slip from me. Just barely, but it was enough. The fool.
Ovailia's face fell and she looked around, her shoulders stiffening in expectation. I took my opportunity and slammed my bare foot against the ground, the rippling energy moving around us again, sending Ovailia off me and causing my father to fall away. His hands released my arms as he fell into the ground.
Imdalind Ruby Collection One: Kiss of Fire | Eyes of Ember | Scorched Treachery Page 60