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

by Ethington, Rebecca

  I searched with my mind’s sight before seeing a dark spot near the base. It wasn’t as smooth as the rest of Ilyan’s heart and looked like a burn. I opened my eyes, surprised when the image of Ilyan’s heart stayed before my eyes for a moment longer.

  “What’s the black part?” I asked, surprised when Thom’s eyebrow raised.

  “That’s the whole of our problem. When you arrived, his whole heart was covered, the exhaustion from your journey had burned him from the inside. I have been able to heal most of it. Once the last of it is gone, he should awaken within a few days.” Thom moved closer, his hand resting on Ilyan’s forehead again.

  “What can I do to help?” I felt more of my magic flow into Ilyan of its own accord. “How can I heal it?”

  “You can do nothing. In fact, it would probably be best if you didn’t let so much of your magic mingle with his.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, first, because of what you are, and second, because of who you are.”

  “Want to try something a little less cryptic?” I teased, and he made that same half bark half laugh sound again.

  “You are one of the Drak, Silnỳ. The Drak do not normally heal those with different magic.” I glowered at him for a minute, hating the limit that my supposed new species was placing on me.

  “But, I am also one of The Chosen.”

  “Yes.”

  “So I should be able to heal others as well,” I countered softly. “Unless it’s something else.”

  “You are new to healing. I would hate for you to miss and kill him.” That was all I needed to hear, I withdrew quickly and pressed myself into the back of the bunk.

  “Okay, then teach me another way.”

  Thom narrowed his eyes at me before he placed the palm of his hand against the stone wall and pulled down, pressing hard against the surface. He brought his palm back to me, revealing a few shallow scrapes, one of them bleeding.

  “Then heal me, start small.”

  “Well, at least it’s not a stubbed toe,” I shrugged and leaned forward, reaching for Thom’s hand.

  I pushed my magic into him, surprised at how quickly it flowed. I closed my eyes and searched through his hand for the cuts, smiling when I found the dark black amongst the pink watercolor strokes of his skin.

  “Now what do I do?” I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to lose the shapes and colors of his injury.

  “Think about how your body heals you, about how you can feel it knit your skin back together, and about how it straightens and repairs. Use your mind and your magic to do the same to me.”

  “Okay, easy enough.” If I didn’t watch it, all of this false confidence was going to get me in trouble.

  Thom had said to think about how my magic knit me back together. That seemed to make the most sense so I focused on it, thrusting my magic into the black mass of his injury. I pushed the skin back together, laying it end to end before driving even more in the hopes of eliminating the wound all together.

  “Incredible.” I opened my eyes to Thom’s hand, shocked to see that not only had the blood flow stopped, but the skin had completely put itself back together. I couldn’t even see so much as a scar.

  “Cool.” I couldn’t help but be proud of myself. Knitting skin together might not help me to kill Edmund, but it was still cool.

  “I have never seen that work quite so fast before.”

  I couldn’t help smiling at my accomplishment and how quickly I had managed it. Although it was still weird to be referred to as a Drak, the Black Water had undeniably unlocked my ability.

  “Now I can heal Ilyan?” I asked, leaning away from Thom to sit next to Ilyan.

  “No, Silnỳ, it is still not a good idea.” I froze at his words, his tone making it obvious what this was about.

  I should have realized it before.

  “It’s because of what my dad saw, isn’t it? Because of who I am?”

  “Yes.”

  “And, you’re not going to….”

  “No,” Thom cut me off. “Dramin will decide when you are ready.”

  I leaned over Ilyan, letting my eyes linger on his dull blue lids before moving back to sit by his feet. As I crawled back across the bunk my body began to ache again. I shoved the pain to the back of my mind, determined not to go inside the Tȍuha yet.

  “Do you normally sleep with Ilyan? We have some double bunks if it will help you to sleep better—”

  “No!” I interrupted him loudly, Thom stopped midsentence his face tensing in confusion. “I don’t sleep with Ilyan. I kind of sleep next to him for half the night after... after…” I let my words drift away as Thom continued to glare, aware that I had begun to ramble.

  “After your nightmares,” he finished for me. I turned back and nodded. I wasn’t sure what made me open up even a little bit to him—maybe it was the fact that he had heard my screams—but it made me uncomfortable.

  “Do they happen every night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dramin warned me. He said that you would wail, but the only one who was to help you was Ilyan.”

  I was grateful neither of them had tried to help. I had fought Ilyan when he had first tried, and my exertion against him had made it worse. I was sure I would fight them even more.

  “And there is nothing you can do to stop them, a tea maybe?”

  I looked at him and shook my head. Ilyan had tried everything in the beginning, but nothing had worked. Now I understood why.

  “Cail controls my dreams.” I said, looking back to Ilyan again, if only not to look at Thom.

  “Cail?” His voice was scared, maybe even angry. I didn’t blame him. He had every right to be. I was.

  “Yes, he uses them to taunt me, to hurt me…” I rested my head on my knees, my eyes unfocused on the blanket in front of me. “I’m scared to go to sleep anymore, and now, without Ilyan…” I exhaled and stopped, not wanting to elaborate anymore.

  Thom didn’t say anything. He looked at me intently before pulling up a tall chair and sitting next to me. He didn’t get too close. He didn’t reach out to touch me. He just sat, looking around for a few minutes. Surprisingly, it wasn’t uncomfortable. We both sat thinking about our own vices for a moment before Thom spoke.

  “Have you ever seen the statue of the Greek Titan, Atlas, who holds the world upon his shoulders?”

  I looked to him, confused as to where this could be coming from, or how it connected to Cail. I raced the story of Atlas through my brain. I knew it, however I couldn’t find any similarities with what we had been talking about.

  “Yes?”

  “My father had that statue in our home when I was with him. He used to say that it was there to remind him of the best way to defeat your enemies. Those who hold the world can do nothing except struggle and cry.”

  “So you’re saying that Edmund is doing this to weaken me, to keep me from whatever it is I am supposed to do?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, he is succeeding,” I mumbled to myself.

  “If you think like that, then you have already lost.” I snapped my head up to Thom, my emotions and my magic bubbling in irritation.

  “He has taken everything from me, Thom; forced me into this life with its pain, and fear, and secrets. And I still don’t even know all of it yet, in case you have forgotten.” I was a little bitter, and I knew it, especially since Thom was trying to give me words of wisdom.

  “You need to find someone to help you carry your load. That is where Atlas failed. He tried to trick others into taking it from him instead of asking for help.”

  “How can I lighten my load if he has taken away everything that’s ever been a support to me?” I had calmed down, but I still felt my anger surge.

  “You are speaking of your friends? Of your father?” Thom leaned forward in his chair.

  “Yes.”

  “What of Ilyan?” Thom asked.

  “He’s kind of busy at the moment, isn’t he?” I said, waving my hand ove
r his motionless form. I could have sworn Thom cracked a bemused smile.

  “You never know who may be supporting you from behind the scenes, Silnỳ. Even though Ilyan is ill, he is still with you. He has the strength to carry the weight of the world for you, and he has that strength for a reason. When he wakes, he will be there to help you hold it, and hold you up along with it if needed.”

  Ilyan had told me several times he would be there to support me, to help me and lighten my load. I knew he would be. I knew I could trust him. I just wasn’t certain I was ready for him to. Ryland’s riddle was still too fresh.

  “I think I see what you’re saying,” I admitted. Thom said nothing, he only grabbed his chair, and walked away.

  I slid off Ilyan’s bed, my body aching as I stood by him, smoothing his long hair. Thom had said that Ilyan had his strength for a reason. I couldn’t rely on him carrying all of my worries for me—I didn’t want him to—but I didn’t know if I had enough strength of my own. I didn’t know which I wanted to be; strong on my own; or strong enough to ask for help.

  I didn’t know which I was supposed to be.

  Ninety-Three

  Ryland

  The ache in my chest ignited as the blade was pulled from me. My muscles and skin knit together, instantly healing itself thanks to Cail’s magic.

  Everything else wasn’t so lucky.

  The blade wasn’t embedded in me anymore, but I still felt cut to shreds.

  Sliced. Diced.

  ‘Broken. As you should be. This is what happens when you don’t obey me.’

  “No, no, no,” I moaned, rocking against the wall as I pulled at my hair, trying to pull the voice out of my head. Something told me it didn’t work that way, but I couldn’t stop myself.

  “Ryland, shhh…” Sain hissed in my ear. I could tell he was trying to be comforting, but the clang of chains, the harsh laugh of my father in my ear, the sobs from somewhere off in the distance… it all had the opposite effect.

  ‘No. This is just how it should be. How it always should be.’

  “No. I won’t. You can’t.” I wasn’t even sure who I was talking to anymore. I couldn’t think straight. Not unless I was in the white space. Everything had gotten so much worse since my father used the blade. I couldn’t even fight him. Or was I fighting him? I didn’t know anymore.

  ‘Me. Your father. Your master. Bow.”

  “Never!” I screamed, slamming by back against the stone wall as shiny shoes stepped before me. I didn’t have to look up to know who was there.

  Cail.

  “Did you hear her, Ryland?” Cail said, the blood-soaked blade still in his hand as he kneeled before me. I twitched and I moaned but I couldn't look away from the blade, the wet drops of blood and soul hardening against its surface. Making it bigger. “Did you hear how Joclyn wailed when I mentioned Ilyan. Mentioned that she loved him?”

  I slammed my back against the stone, I already knew what was coming. “She doesn’t. He doesn’t.”

  “Oh, but they do,” Cail continued to spin the blade over his palm. “Otherwise why would she have reacted the way she did. She’s hiding something.”

  “No! No. No.” I refused to believe it, refused to see. But it didn’t matter, the moments from the nightmare pulled through my mind like a movie. Almost like Cail was controlling it.

  ‘Yes,’ the slime of my father’s voice echoed in my head, the scene in my mind slowing down. ‘Don’t you see? She wants him. She loves him. She doesn’t even look at you.’

  She didn’t.

  My heart tightened, all of those slices that cut into my body and soul deepening. Digging.

  “Now do you believe me, Ryland?” Cail continued, rising to his feet so all I could see were his shoes and Sain’s wide eyes. He shook his head no, begging me not to believe it, it didn’t matter. I had already seen.

  “Now do you see how she had betrayed you. She doesn’t love you anymore. She is your mate. And she is using you.”

  She was. I had seen it. Cail had shown me. It was exactly as he had always said. Tears dripped over my cheeks, although I wasn’t sure why. There was no room for crying. Not with what Joclyn had done.

  She had done nothing.

  She loved me.

  ‘Loved you. Don’t try to tell yourself otherwise. She used you, Ryland.’

  “What are you going to do, Ryland?” Cail asked as heavier steps began to thunder down the stairs.

  “Kill her!” The words screamed out of my throat, even as my heart screamed at me not to. “Kill her!”

  “No, Ryland, no.” I could barely hear Sain’s moans.

  “How did it go?” Edmund asked as he raced down the stairs into the dungeon. Bringing more light with him. I cringed against the yellow orbs that flooded the room, hissing and moaning as I turned from Sain to the spot in the cell next to me.

  To Wyn, still desperately trying to reach Talon.

  The same way Joclyn had tried to reach me in that fight.

  When she had tried to save me.

  Just like the last time.

  Just like every time.

  “No,” I hissed as the memories began to flood me. All of the times that Joclyn was there for me. That she saved me. “No! I won’t kill her!”

  “Again?” Cail hissed, the door to my cell swinging open. Sain scuttled away as fast as he could. I sat, chained to the wall, my father’s voice screaming in my head as I lifted my chin to Cail.

  “I won’t kill her.” He kicked me in the gut before I could finish.

  “I am growing tired of this, Cail.” Edmund drawled, the light dimming a bit. “I need him dealt with.”

  “Yes, Master,” Cail said, moving to kick me again. I managed to dodge it, even though my father’s voice was now screaming in my head so loud I was having trouble hearing anything else. I couldn’t see anything else but what they were showing me. Ilyan and Joclyn, clinging to each other on that roof.

  Clinging.

  Holding.

  Kissing.

  His hands all over her.

  Removing her shirt...

  ‘See. She doesn’t love you anymore. She has betrayed you,’

  “No.” That one was more of a sob.

  “I will handle this.”

  “Good. I expect a full report in an hour, as well as your suggestions as to how we will handle this. It’s time we put an end to it. All of it. I am ready for this war to be over.”

  “Yes, master,” Cail said as the light from Edmund’s magic began to fade, and the dark began to take over again. “Consider it done.”

  He walked closer to me, his magic dripping from his fingers. Except, with every step he took towards me, he shifted. Until it was no longer Cail who was smiling and laughing. It was no longer Cail who was preparing to hurt me.

  It was Joclyn.

  “Joclyn, no…” I cowered against her, but she just smiled.

  “It’s all in your head, Ryland. It’s not her.” I heard Sain plea, but it didn’t matter.

  Joclyn had already lifted her hand to attack.

  Ninety-Four

  Joclyn

  I pressed the mug of Black Water to my lips, a soft groan escaping as the liquid flowed through me. It was better than a cheeseburger.

  I was worried I wouldn’t miss them, either.

  It had been weird when I had only wanted to eat a small amount of rice and vegetables for lunch, my body just didn’t want it. The Black Water was all I needed. Dramin had been right.

  “Do you need more?” Dramin asked from where he stood with Thom on the other side of the training hall, he had been supplying me with the drink since he had returned earlier that morning.

  “Not yet. It’s good this is just water, Uncle, or I might be worried I was turning into an alcoholic.” Dramin chuckled, and Thom grunted loudly from where he leaned against the stone.

  “Poisonous water,” Thom amended, which only caused Dramin to chuckle more.

  A grunt and a chuckle. I couldn’t think of anyt
hing else that could explain the two men better.

  “Well, if you don’t need more,” Dramin said, ignoring Thom as he stepped toward me, the sound of his shoes echoing over the stone. “Let’s get back to work, shall we?”

  I took another drink and let the warm energy pulse through me. Thankfully, the water was taking away all my aches from my avoidance of the Tȍuha. I enjoyed the feeling, but what I loved even more was that the Water had fully unlocked my abilities.

  I had sparred with Thom this morning, and even through my sore and rigid body, I had been able to beat him in three matches. He may not be as powerful as Ilyan, but I had never beaten anyone before—without cheating of course. I may have been a bit excited, which may have led to some gloating, which may have led to Thom being a bit surlier than usual. I didn’t care. It was worth it.

  I was sitting on the floor of the large training hall, a giant fur cloak draped around me. Seeing as I arrived here without a change of clothes, or a coat, this fur had become equivalent to my hoodie. That and it probably helped to keep my smell down. I hadn’t actually seen a shower since Santa Fe and thanks to all this sparing, I was sweatier and rattier than usual. I had tried to smooth my hair at some point, but had given up when I realized I was fighting a losing battle. I would have to look a little bit derelict until I located a shower and a clothing store; both of which I had been informed the cave did not have.

  Dramin stood about ten feet behind me, Thom slightly to my left. Even with my eyes closed I could see them. I had opened up my internal vision to include the whole room, much to Thom’s dismay. He could only manage about a ten foot circle, and even though I could see the whole cave, I was sure I could manage more if I focused.

  “Ready,” I called out. Thom stretched his fingers and began to shoot objects away from him; real, magical, and conjured. I caught the real objects with my mind, setting them down by the entrance where they had started. I shattered the conjured objects with a pulse from my own magic, and intercepted each of the magical attacks with either an attack of my own or a wave of negative energy, turning them into bits of smoke.