Ilyan looked as he had that night in Santa Fe. His hair was pulled back in a braid and he had aviator sunglasses on. Although his jeans were a little more ripped and dirty, it was nothing compared to the disarray I was in. My clothes were filthy, my hair greasy and matted, and I was certain that I looked like a messy beggar that Ilyan had picked up along the way.
I kept placing the Ilyan in front of me against the image of him from the sight. With short hair, his jaw line popped more.
Ilyan caught me looking at him and I looked away quickly, causing him to laugh.
“What?” he asked, his accent rolling.
“I think I like you with short hair.”
I spoke my mind and instantly regretted it. His eyes widened and a smirk played on his lips as he connected where my comment was stemming from.
“Not like before, not dark. You didn’t look good with dark hair.”
“But short…” he interrupted me, “like in the sight.”
I nodded and looked away. I didn’t know why the conversation was making me uncomfortable, but it was.
“Maybe I will cut it for you,” he mused, leaning in with that gorgeous smile that was starting to do weird things to me.
I ignored him and went back to staring at my mushrooms, contemplating if it was worth it to try and eat another. It had been decided that morning that it was imperative that Ovailia not find out that I was a Drak, which meant that I needed to at least attempt to force down normal food. But the taste was so bitter and the texture so gritty that I was having trouble making it look like I was enjoying it.
“Are you okay?” Ilyan asked from beside me. He sat back in his chair sipping at his wine, his eyebrows arched in question.
“I’m swell,” I grumbled, poking at a mushroom. “You know, I am just chilling in a beautiful Italian village, dressed like a hobo, forcing down strange food, and waiting for your sister—who is, in a strange way, my step-mother—with the hopes of begging her to go save my boyfriend.” Ilyan’s smile at my discomfort grew, I scowled and decided to ignore him.
“How did I ever eat this stuff?” I asked a little grumpily, but Ilyan only laughed deeper.
“I think they are delicious.” Ilyan leaned over the table and plucked one of the perfectly golden mushrooms from my plate. He plopped it in his mouth and smiled heavily as he leaned back in his chair.
“Better than a hamburger,” Ilyan said with a smile.
“Ew.” I cringed at the thought and Ilyan laughed harder. I rolled my eyes at him and forced another mushroom into my mouth.
“It is kind of endearing, this new side of you.” Ilyan swirled the wine in his glass alluringly as he leaned in, his back arching him forward.
“Why? Because I don’t eat meat now?”
“Well, there is that. It is everything, though; all of it. How strong you are, how confident, and how powerful.” He was genuine, and my stomach swooped, which of course meant I chuckled awkwardly. “You’re amazing, Joclyn.”
My heart thumped into a restart, however I ignored it.
“At least you don’t think it’s creepy. The last thing I need is for you to think I’m some kind of freak.”
Ilyan reached forward and grabbed my hand, his thumb rubbing over the ridges of my knuckles.
“Never, Joclyn.”
“Well, aren’t you two cozy.” I jumped at Ovailia’s voice, my aches surging through me.
Ilyan stood at her arrival, his arms wrapping around her without question.
Ovailia looked the same; perfectly poised, not a hair on her head out of place. She embraced Ilyan awkwardly, looking thoroughly out of place in jeans and a silk top.
“Ovailia!” Ilyan finally released her, but he kept a hold on her shoulders. “I’m so glad you are well. I was so worried!”
Ilyan’s voice was so pained, so relieved. I felt bad. Especially given what the situation was. The planned double-crossing suddenly felt like acid on my tongue.
“You, too, Ilyan. You have no idea. When I saw them... in Prague...” Ovailia broke off, and I was suddenly worried we were going to hear a play by play of what had happened. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. I didn’t want to hear traumatizing accounts of what had happened to my best friend and what she had gone through because of me.
Ilyan pulled away from her and brought up a chair, prompting her to sit down. The waiter approached and Ilyan ordered something in Italian before sitting. The entire time, Ovailia kept her face down in an emotionless mask. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, the sight of her carrying Ryland down the hall still fresh in my mind.
“Ovailia,” Ilyan said as he sat down. “I need to know what happened. You have to tell me who betrayed us.”
Ilyan’s voice boomed with his normal, regal air; a sound I hadn’t heard in quite some time. It was obvious he was putting on the front with Ovailia in an attempt to get the information he needed from her. I tensed as I turned toward her, my body stiffening in expectation of whatever truth or lie was going to spew out of her mouth
“It was Talon.” I gasped at her words, her head whipping around to glare at me.
“Talon?” Ilyan asked, his voice just as stunned as I was.
“Yes,” she said as she held back what I could only assume were tears. She sounded like she swallowed a frog. “I don’t know how and I don’t know why, but he was leading them down the hall. There were so many. I don’t know if anyone else escaped, Ilyan. I couldn’t find anyone else.”
“No one else got out?” Ilyan asked, his voice loud in his heightened fear. The waiter jumped at his outburst as she came up behind him, placing another glass of wine and another plate of mushrooms on the table. Ilyan apologized in Italian before turning back to Ovailia.
“No one?” He repeated, his voice catching as the emotion of this new reality pushed its way up. I reached my leg out toward him from underneath the table, pressing my calf to his. He looked up to me gratefully, his eyes shining.
“I couldn’t find anyone. I was too scared to stay. Father was there and I... I...” Her voice tensed to a stop and Ilyan reached out gently to take her hand.
“Why would Talon do that, Ilyan?” I asked softly, “It doesn’t make sense. Why would he do that to Wyn?”
“She was screaming to her father when we last spoke with her, it must have been his call. Besides, I don’t see Talon allowing them to kill her. She had to have been taken.” Ilyan’s logic made sense, but something still did not fit.
“But Ilyan, I saw...” I stopped myself, having been about to reveal something I had seen during my first sight.
“Oh, what would you know about it?” Ovailia snapped, her icy blue eyes digging aggressively into me. “And what in the world gives you the right to call him by his given name?”
I opened my mouth to reply, but then closed it quickly. I needed Ovailia to believe me weak and incapable still.
“Ovailia,” Ilyan scolded soundly, “Joclyn is as much of a piece of the puzzle as we are now. I do not keep anything from her, and as for the name, she is free to call me anything she chooses.”
He smiled at me and I looked away, placing another of the gritty mushrooms in my mouth. They were vile, but I needed something in my mouth to keep me from saying something I shouldn’t.
“So, you have told her everything, then?” Ovailia asked, her voice awed. I kept my gaze away from her, fully aware that her eyes were boring into me.
“I have.”
“Odd. She doesn’t seem worried, and you don’t seem to be as hands on as I thought you would be.”
“Unless that is due to her hygiene. I had assumed you knew how to take better care of yourself, Joclyn. Though this look does suit you, it’s disgusting.”
Well, I needed this reminder as to why I did not enjoy Ovailia’s company.
“Be polite, Ovailia,” Ilyan scolded her loudly, his leg pressing against mine. “We’ve been hiding in terrible places since someone ratted us out in Santa Fe. There hasn’t exactly been a shower available
.”
“And yet, you stay perfectly poised.”
I ate another mushroom. It was that or yell at her that Ilyan had been unconscious for three days whereas I had been working and training almost nonstop. I hung my head forward and let the clumps of hair fall around me. I was beginning to realize why Thom had kept his hair in dreads.
Ilyan and Ovailia spoke in Czech, their tones quick and irritated, before I felt Ilyan’s hand on my chin.
“I think she is beautiful,” he whispered, his voice soft. My head spun, fully aware that Ovailia was staring right at us.
“Not now” I reminded him, my voice caught between pleading, worry, and joy.
“Not yet,” he replied, his hand dropping back down to the table.
“And speaking of that,” Ilyan mused, turning back to his sister who was looking at us with a mixture of disgust and irritation. “I need you to go and get Ryland.”
“What?” Ovailia burst to her feet. The table shifted with her movement, causing most of the remaining wine to spill from the impact. Heads turned toward us at the sound and I shrunk away, well aware that people were wrinkling their noses at me.
“Sit down,” Ilyan hissed, yanking her arm back down toward the table.
Ilyan’s magic flared in me abruptly, his power pressing right up against my barrier as he turned his head to either side, looking for something. I closed my eyes and expanded my vision, but I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
Although, to be fair, I wouldn’t know what I was looking for anyway.
Ovailia sat down with a pout, her descent making almost as much noise as her outburst.
“Get Ryland?” she hissed, leaning over the table. “Why in the world would I want to do that?”
“Because our father has given Joclyn a one week window to save him, but she is too weak to do anything, and because I am commanding you to do it.” Ilyan’s voice was authoritative and far too loud. Multiple heads in the tiny café turned to us. I hoped they didn’t understand English.
I saw Ovailia calculate things in her mind. Her eyes narrowed toward her brother before darting to me and back again.
“The last thing you commanded me to do, you ended up handing over your most valuable piece of information to a traitor. Why should I trust you, Ilyan? How do I know you’re not feeding me to the wolves?”
The two locked eyes, their blue gazes so different, yet so similar. I couldn’t breathe as I waited for her answer. I knew she would do it, but at the same time, I couldn’t help thinking that I was signing Wyn’s death certificate.
“Let Joclyn come with me,” Ovailia finally said, folding her arms as she leaned back in the chair.
Ilyan’s magic flared and I gasped as it pushed roughly against my barrier, though Ilyan didn’t seem to notice. He was staring right into Ovailia, his eyes narrowed and angry.
“Why would I let you do that? Not only is she mine to protect, but I told you she is too weak to fight.” Not to mention that she hated me—probably more than ever if she knew about Sain—but I wasn’t going to bring that up now.
I ate another mushroom.
“She knows the interior of the mansion better than anyone. Not to mention, I am going to need her there to get Ryland to cooperate.” She spoke as if it was the plainest thing, but I saw her flaw immediately. My head spun to Ilyan in the hope that he had heard it as well, however his jaw stayed tight and firm, and his gaze never left Ovailia.
“Ilyan?” I asked; ignoring the glare Ovailia gave me at using his name.
I felt his leg press against mine and I held my tongue.
“How do you know he is in the estate? They took over Imdalind, why wouldn’t they be there?”
She shrugged, although she had begun to tap her toe in the air nervously, her bright red heels glinting in the light.
“I worked with him longer, Ilyan, I know his ways. Let Joclyn come with me.”
“Ryland’s mind is erased, Ovailia. How would Joclyn be able to help?”
“If Ryland’s mind is erased, then why does Joclyn want him back so much?”
The two continued to stare at each other, neither of them spoke and I got the feeling they were very carefully dancing around each other in a game of chess. Each one was plotting their next move. Each one was tracking the movements of the other and waiting for a misstep.
“I want him back. He is my brother,” Ilyan said slowly, leaning back to grab his magically refilled wine glass. “I need a pawn to play with as well. They have Wyn and Talon. I want Ryland on my side.”
“That boy would kill everyone the first chance he got, including her,” she said as she pointed toward me absently, her eyes never leaving Ilyan’s.
“I can handle it,” Ilyan said.
“Have a death wish do we?” Ovailia spoke slowly, her long fingernail pushing around one of the mushrooms delicately.
“Most definitely.” Ovailia raised an eyebrow at Ilyan’s affirmation, the mushroom sliding away from her touch. Ovailia seemed to make her decision and stood as Ilyan placed a small envelope on the table.
“Our next location. Bring him there.” Ilyan said, his eyes turning away from Ovailia to face me.
“Stay safe, brother,” Ovailia said as she picked up the envelope, placing it in her back pocket without even looking at it.
“And you.”
Ovailia turned away from us and began walking down the small alley, her hair swinging as she moved.
“Oh, and Ovailia,” Ilyan called out, his eyes not leaving mine. “Don’t do anything that you will regret in the morning.”
“Same to you.” Ovailia turned and continued down the street. Ilyan’s eyes finally left mine as he covered his face, leaning his head over the table.
“Ilyan?” I whispered his name, reaching over the table to grab his hand from off his face. He looked up at me, his eyes glistening.
“You were right, Joclyn. She simply can’t be trusted. Just once I would like one of my siblings to stand by me. I want them to believe in something good and not to be taken in by his lies. My father only leads to hate and heartbreak.” He was so sad. He had held out hope until the end, only to have his faith in his sister completely dashed.
I reached across the table and grabbed his hand, instinctively pushing my magic into him in an effort to calm him, I could feel his heart stutter and pulse as my energy wrapped around it, his muscles relaxing as extra oxygen flew to them. My actions must have caught him off guard because he looked up to me with wide eyes, his expression startled. The look made me uncomfortable so I pulled away.
“Sorry,” I said softly, dearly hoping he wouldn’t make me elaborate or say something gushy.
“Don’t be. No one has ever done that to me. Not since my mother.” His voice was so soft that I barely heard him.
“Healed you?” I asked, confused. After all, Thom had been pushing his magic into him all last week.
“Comforted me,” he clarified, his eyes boring into me. I looked away, my heart pumping much quicker than normal.
One Hundred Five
Wyn
I laid on the floor of the cold dark prison under Imdalind and stared into Talon’s eyes, his beautiful, brown eyes. His thumb rubbed across the skin of my hand as his other caressed every inch of the skin on my face, my neck. I wished I could move closer, I wished I could whisper in his ear, but we weren’t alone. A guard paced in the dim blue light near my head, his steps the only sounds besides the deep breathing of Sain and Ryland as they remained stuck inside the blood magic. I shifted my weight and moved closer to Talon, my hands clenching his.
Talon’s eyes had opened only moments after Edmund left. Cail, Ryland and Sain were still in the cell, though none of their consciousnesses were present.
I looked into Talon’s eyes, my shaky finger pressing to my lips as I begged him to be silent, my eyes pleading with him to wait so I could answer everything under the protection of Sain’s shield.
I could see the fear in his eyes, the terror at the f
irst thing that I was sure he noticed. There was no magic flowing through his veins. No fire as our skin connected, and although I watched him try several times, no Tȍuha for us to retreat to.
I wanted to tell him it was okay. I wanted to promise him that I was alive, and that was all that mattered, but my lips remained closed, the words trapped in my throat as we spoke with the subtle movements of fingers. A kiss—a promise. A glance—a vow. Soon, the language of touch was not enough to say what we wanted to say, so we settled into each other, content to hold hands and stare, happy to simply see each other again.
I flinched when I heard the gasp, the groan and the subtle laugh that escaped from my brother’s lips as he returned to reality.
“Well, that was fun,” he sighed, and Talon’s hand clenched against mine. I stared at him, begging him to say nothing, do nothing, praying he would get the message and that he wouldn’t even try to battle through the weakness in his body.
I lay still as I listened to stumbling feet and the grind of iron as Cail opened doors and shifted bodies around. Shackles were replaced, doors closed, and a flash of red splashed over the wall as the soul blade reflected off the blue light.
“Anything interesting happen?” Cail asked, his voice moving closer to where we lay. I closed my eyes, hoping Talon followed suit, praying that we would simply look like we were sleeping.
“No, sir.”
“Good. Come along. Let’s go join the bonfire and say goodbye to the last of the Skȓíteks.” Cail chuckled, and my shoulders tightened. I didn’t want to think about the end of the massacre that was occurring only a few levels above us.
I waited until I was sure that they were far enough away before opening my eyes, unsurprised at the absolute darkness surrounding us.
My fingers fumbled away from Talon’s hand until I found his face. I knew what was coming, and I had an extremely brief window in which to act. My fingertips pressed into his cheek, the pads of my fingers following around his jaw until I moved him closer, pressing his face against the bars as my lips found the hollow cup of his ear. He winced at the pain that my movements had given him, his lips parting in a subtle gasp.
Imdalind Ruby Collection One: Kiss of Fire | Eyes of Ember | Scorched Treachery Page 77