“T-take th...the l-left.” Her deep voice filled the room. Thom barely looked at her before rushing back to Wyn’s side.
Sain’s eyes widened as he pieced together what had just had happened, but Ryland hadn’t seemed to notice, he just looked at her with that desperate longing in his eyes again. I’m not even sure he realized that there was something different in her voice.
I looked at Sain, pleading with him not to say anything, to keep this secret. I still wasn’t sure I could trust Ryland. I needed to keep Joclyn safe, and letting this get out would not help her.
Sain nodded once in understanding, the action letting my muscles relax.
“She’s fine.” Thom’s voice cut through my silent exchange, bringing us all back to what had just happened. “Joclyn healed her.”
I couldn’t help but smile as I brought her body into mine, keeping her close to me.
‘I told you I could.’
Her eyes were still closed, and her face was pressed against my chest. She could have been sleeping. I slowly removed my finger from the mark, allowing the connection to begin to fade from my mind. I wished I knew how she was doing that, how she was filling my mind with her voice. No one had ever managed anything past crude pictures – not since the first were born from the mud. But to hear her voice, without the stutter, inside my mind… It was as beautiful as she was.
She was amazing.
‘Thank you.’
One Hundred Thirty-Eight
Joclyn
Fireflies.
When I was growing up, I thought fireflies were magic. I thought they were like fairies. I would try to catch them in jars and take them home to convince them to grant my wish.
I was four when I caught my first one. I had put him in a glass jar and watched him glow as he fluttered and banged against the glass. He was going to grant my wish. My father had sat with me and ran his finger over the glass, the firefly drawn to him. When my father’s finger was there, the firefly didn’t bang his head against the glass anymore; he just followed the line my father traced.
Dad asked me what my wish was, but at four all I could think of was a pony, a pony and the ability to fly. My father smiled and told me that magic was inside of you, not in bugs. I asked him if I had magic then, and he got that face that parents get when they are caught in a lie. I knew it then, that magic wasn’t real, but I didn’t care.
I had laughed as we set my little firefly free, sad for the loss of a wish but happy for the bug.
It was one of my only happy memories of my father.
Then, many years later, I found out what magic really was. And just like the firefly, I wished I could just open the jar and go free.
I still wanted to think of fireflies as magic. I watched them as they danced outside the window of Ilyan’s room, and I wanted to dance with them, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move my body out of the heavy blanket I had wrapped around myself, the thick wool keeping me warm as I sat against the stone. So, I watched the fireflies, and I felt my magic surge and flow through the air, the power wild and unrestrained within me.
My magic flew away from me as I sat there, desperate to be out of the small container my body provided it. It flowed through the air and over the yards of the Abbey like water. It fanned away from me and brought back signs and signals from everyone around me.
I could feel the armies that surrounded us and their eagerness for a battle that they knew was coming. I could feel Thom’s joy as he sat next to Wyn, closeted up in his room where I had left them only a few minutes before. I could feel Wyn’s sadness at losing her mate. I wished I could tell her that I could still feel Talon inside of her, but I didn’t dare speak. Not yet.
I had sat with them as Wyn woke up, my eyes closed as I hid myself in Ilyan’s chest. I could feel them all around me. I could feel my father’s magic, I could feel everything. But in that tiny room, I was trapped.
As soon as Wyn woke, the questions came, the voices all sounding at once. They asked questions and demanded answers, their voices growing louder and panicking me. The touching followed, my father’s hands on my skin in excitement, Thom reaching out to me in thanks, and though I understood their desires, my body curled into itself. I couldn’t stop the sobs.
I wasn’t ready to talk to any of them. I wasn’t ready to look into my father’s eyes and relive all that had happened since he had left. So instead, my father had hugged me as I sat on Ilyan’s lap and he whispered in my ear how much he loved me. Ilyan had passed on my words to him before taking me from the room.
I had crawled to the balcony after Ilyan had left me here to rest, unable to resist the buzz of magic that was out here. No matter how confusing everything was. I needed to be here.
Everything was getting clearer, but I still hadn’t broken free.
I could feel the pulse of Ilyan’s magic from where he stood with Sain as they healed his son, my brother. I could feel Ilyan’s emotions, the heightened connection giving me access to loose pieces of his thoughts. Ilyan was nervous about me, he wanted to leave, but he was fighting it, knowing he needed to stay there too. He had responsibilities that he could not ignore.
Ilyan’s anxiety pulsed as Sain began to tell him all that had happened. His anxiety triggered my own; my magic surging through him as my own peaked, confusing me as to whether I should calm him or myself.
If I focused, I could hear their conversation. I could pretend to be well enough to be around them but they weren’t alone. There was someone else with them. I knew that if I heard his voice, I couldn’t be sure what I would do.
‘Ilyan.’
I let my magic grow and sent my voice into his head, the word traveling through the Štít and into him. I wasn’t sure how I had done it the first time. I had sat huddled on the floor as Wyn screamed, and I could feel my magic grow into something that it hadn’t been before. I looked into Ilyan’s eyes and my soul had told me what to do. It didn’t take more of a thought than that.
I felt Ilyan’s excitement increase at my message, his thoughts changing from stress over what he was being told toward me, his thoughts heavy with worry.
‘I’m fine, Ilyan.’
A moment passed as he talked, but soon his thoughts were torn between wondering what I needed and trying to focus on what Sain was telling him.
I didn’t know what had caused me to call to him; I knew he would come when he was done. Until then, I had my fireflies to keep me company.
My body shook the longer I sat, my hands twitching underneath the blanket. I could feel the anxiety rise, the uncertainty taking over. I focused on the panic, trying to calm it, but knowing it would come no matter what I did.
Before it could grow too loud, Ilyan’s song filled my mind, the thought flowing from Ilyan into me, my own lips following suit as I whispered the words to myself.
The song ended as the door creaked open as he entered. I knew it was Ilyan, but I couldn’t stop the tension from filling my joints or the way my head moved toward my chest. I kept my body still against the stone wall as Ilyan moved closer to me, the ebbs of his magic growing as he calmed me.
I turned my eyes as he sat next to me, his legs crossed beneath him, just far enough away that I couldn’t touch him easily. I could hear that part of me scream for his contact, but the jitters begged otherwise.
Even through the fear, I still wanted to touch him. I pushed the thought away, choosing instead to focus on his blue eyes and how they dug into me, the way his fingers twitched in desperation to touch me, and the way his lips turned up in a calm joy when I looked at him.
I watched him, and I felt the tension leave, my heart rate slow. Not for the first time, just the sight of him calmed me.
“Ilyan,” I breathed, my voice calm. I wasn’t sure I could manage more than that one word though.
He smiled at the sound of his name on my tongue, his magic surging in response.
“Are you talking now?” he asked, his voice a cross between amusement and worry.
‘N
o.’
I sent the one word into his mind, but instead of sadness, he only smiled. I didn’t see what was so funny, but he obviously did. I wrapped my hands around myself, my body tensing at what that smile could mean. It was nothing. It had to be nothing but happiness.
‘I will only talk to you.’
Ilyan smiled again, his gaze darting away from mine to his hands before coming back to rest on me, the soft blue light of his eyes glossed over.
“And, I will cherish every second of your voice that you give me.”
He smiled again, the warmth of his face seeping into me, soothing my nerves. My tension loosened a bit, and I couldn’t help but let my own small smile filter onto my face. A smile. It felt weird and foreign. I had forgotten what happiness felt like.
“Y…you w-w-will?” My smile left as the stutter took over, the shake of my voice taking my newfound happiness away.
“I will,” he sighed, shifting closer to me. His knees pressed against the heavy blanket I had covered myself with. I focused on the pressure, leaning into it. I leaned into the warmth I felt from his touch and the ripples of heat coming off his body, my body hovering precariously away from the pressure the alcove provided me.
“How are you feeling?”
‘I’m not sure if I am fine or if I am broken.’
“It’s okay to be both, Joclyn,” he sighed, his hand moving to rest against my cheek, but it wasn’t skin I felt. I turned my head toward him in confusion, my eyes narrowing at the heavy bandage he had covered his hand with.
My heart beat quickly at seeing it there. Ilyan had hurt himself. How had I missed this? For the first time, I worried about what had happened while I had been trapped in hell, while I had been tortured. Ilyan had been injured.
Ilyan’s heart quickened as I removed the covering, my breathing shaking as the angry red marks came into view. The red welts stood up from his hand like a burn, but the skin was still wet in places.
As though from water.
‘What happened?’ I asked, my fear for him overriding my personal demons for the moment. He didn’t need to tell me. I could see the moment replayed in his head, the horrors of those last moments in my hell a swirl of color and fear in his eyes.
‘This is how you brought me back? The Black Water?’
He nodded once, and I pulled the hand toward me, my back arching as I brought the scars against my face, another mark that Ilyan would bear forever, another scar he had taken for me.
‘Thank you.’
“Haven’t I told you enough? I would do anything for you.”
His voice was so soft I barely heard him. I leaned toward him as I pressed his hand against me, his magic pulsing through me. It was so warm and delicate within me. I could feel it reach into every part of me, cradling me as if I was something precious.
I could feel his emotions whisper it to me now. I could feel his heart ache; his love for me that was always held behind the strict barriers of what he felt was right, broke through, and bared between us.
Then, something changed. He second-guessed himself somewhere along the way, his emotions withdrawing and his insecurities taking their place.
As his doubts and fears took hold, they also seeped into me. I moved away from him. I wanted that feeling back, that love that I had felt emanating from him only a moment ago. I felt my heart hunger for it, need it.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked, unable to keep my worry locked inside.
Ilyan looked at me with pain in his eyes, his mind pouring out his sadness before his mouth even opened. His first word brought the panic I had kept at bay until this point.
“Ryland has asked me…”
“No!” My voice caught him off guard, his eyes widening at the power behind my one word.
I couldn’t stop the panic that flowed through my body. I moaned as I curled into the blanket, every nerve ending tensing in agony, in fear of what was to come. Ilyan’s magic surged, my own magic joining his as I attempted to calm myself, to take the fear away.
I could see Ilyan’s thoughts in front of me, his worry for his brother and his friend and his desperate need for me, and I could hear Ryland’s words in his head.
‘I will not see him.’ I answered the unasked question inside his head. ‘I will kill him if I see him. I want to kill him.’
I narrowed my eyes at him, my jaw tensing at the calm agony his eyes showed me. I curled into the wall, my mind fighting against my better judgment as it begged me to run away.
“You won’t kill him,” Ilyan said as calmly as he could, and I felt my anger rise and my magic pulse. For one fleeting second it was stronger than the crazed anxiety that still overtook me.
‘I will.’
“No, Jos,” he whispered, and I couldn’t help the thunk of my heart at my nickname on his lips. “You don’t want that, not really.”
‘I do, Ilyan.’ I begged him. I begged through the panic, the fear. I needed him to understand this. To understand the anger that was a fire inside of me, the need for revenge fanning it ever higher. ‘He hurt me… he…’
My thoughts stopped as Ilyan’s hand moved against my neck, the sharp jolt as his skin made contact with my mark stopping my words. I sighed at the sensation, at the pleasurable heat it gave me, before staring into Ilyan, knowing it had been his intention to stop me.
“You don’t want to hurt him. You don’t want to kill him. It’s not really you that feels that way. You think it is because you are still so scared and confused at what has happened. You were hurt, Joclyn, but not by him.”
His eyes dug into me as he plead with me to believe him. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t see beyond the panic and pain. It consumed me. A part of me wanted it to. In some ways, the pain and the anxiety made me remember that I was alive.
‘It was him.’ I spat as I pushed Ilyan away, as I let the anxiety mix with the hate. I could feel my magic surge and pulse, but it wasn’t like when I had healed Wyn; this was uncontrollable, like I myself was the danger, as if I would explode.
“No, my love,” Ilyan said calmly, his eyes scanning me as I continued to try to move into myself and my breathing picked up. “It was a farce, a projection in Cail’s mind meant to confuse you so that you would kill him if you ever got the chance.”
Ilyan’s magic moved into me and took away the frayed edges of my panic. I wanted to hold it to me, and relax in the pain, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t tear my mind away from what Ilyan was saying, what he was trying so foolishly to get me to believe.
I couldn’t. Ryland needed to pay for what he had done to me.
‘It was him, Ilyan. I know…’
“How do you know it was?” The desperation in his words stopped me, my eyes widening. Why did he doubt me? Why was he pushing me? What had Ryland told him? What had my father said?
I had shown Ilyan everything; I had filled his mind with those memories. Why couldn’t he see that I knew? I knew by the way that he had walked, the way that his hair curled. I could have admitted that there had been something different about him, but I couldn’t tell what it was. I didn’t want to.
I pressed myself into the wall as I tried to keep the fear at bay, as I tried to hold onto reality.
‘How do you know that it wasn’t?’ I countered, my voice snide in his head.
Ilyan closed his eyes for a moment, and I could hear the replay of the last hour in his mind, the conversation he had had with Sain. I didn’t want to hear it. Even though I could tell he was trying to give me the thoughts, I wouldn’t let them in.
“They did the same to him, Jos.” He sighed, his breath exhaling as he lifted his eyes to look at me again. “They turned him into a weapon to hurt you. It’s why he punched you. He still sees you as the enemy they haunted him with. He is trying to fight it, but I am not sure he can.”
I just stared at him, the words sinking into a place deep inside of me that I wanted so desperately to ignore. Ilyan’s eyes were soft, the truth behind them penetrating. I sighed as I leaned my head agai
nst the wall.
‘How do you know that I am meant to be a weapon now?’
Ilyan stared and moved closer, his body folding as he leaned toward me.
“It’s what my father does, Joclyn.” His fingers twitched in desperation to hold me again. “It is what he has always done. You know this.”
I did. I had seen it even before he had done it to me. I had seen it in Thom, and I had heard the stories of my father. I had no reason to doubt any of them.
“You need to let go of that anger, Joclyn,” Ilyan continued when I said nothing, his hand finally moving to rest against the blanket that covered me. “You can’t let the pain control you.”
‘I can’t, Ilyan. If I let go of it, then there is nothing left. I have nothing behind that. It’s all I am anymore.’
“That’s not true,” Ilyan said, his hand caressing my knee through the blanket.
‘It’s all I feel.’ I sighed, pulling the blanket around me tighter. The jagged edge of that anger sliced against me, threatening to turn into panic. I pushed it away as I buried my face into the wall, refusing to look at him.
“You have to look beyond it, my love,” Ilyan whispered, his voice soft as his hand moved from the blanket to the skin of my face.
‘There is nothing beyond it.’ I said, the voice in my head breaking in my sadness.
Ilyan sighed, and his hand moved over my skin before he dropped it, before he leaned away. The movement scared me, and I looked toward him. But when I did, his eyes were looking right at me, the bright blue shocking as they raged with a heady emotion that took my breath away.
“My father hung me from a tree shortly after it became obvious that I was the one challenging him. He caught me, whipped me, and burned my skin with irons. I thought I would go mad. But I didn’t.”
I had always excluded Ilyan from the pain Edmund had caused his children. I didn’t know why, but Ilyan seemed untouchable. Now he was telling me that he had been hurt. He had thought he would go crazy. But he didn’t.
Imdalind Ruby Collection One: Kiss of Fire | Eyes of Ember | Scorched Treachery Page 103