Edmund was a terrifying master, but Ilyan brought out a whole different kind of fear, one that made you simultaneously feel guilt and an unquestionable desire to be better.
It was irritating.
The man himself came through first, his hair a tousled mess, face covered in ash and soot. I looked up at him from where I cowered on the ground, my heart immediately moving into overdrive.
Something had happened, something more than me attacking Jos, something more than me being controlled by Edmund. The image of Thom in that bed, the magic sparking between my fingers, flashed before me, and I winced. My heart constricted in fear of what could come after. I didn’t dare ask, seeing the remains of a war on his face, seeing the anger creased in his forehead and his downturned lips. I knew it was bad.
Shying away, I scuttled over the cobbles as quickly as I could, the sparks of electric discomfort in the right side of my body rising. The pain duplicated with each step he took toward me, the defiant assassin side of me completely quiet for once.
“We need to have a chat, you and I,” Ilyan said, his voice a deep, oozing rumble as the air behind him continued to move, Joclyn and Ryland following him through the barrier.
I didn’t even look at them. I knew better than to look away from the powerhouse I was faced with.
My heart was rampaging inside of me, everything twisting violently and increasing the pain I was stuck with.
Nodding numbly in response, Ilyan squatted down in front of me, his tall frame folding elegantly despite the lankiness of him.
I froze, the silence of the space drowning out the violent tempo of my heart and filling me with a loud buzzing I was momentarily convinced was caused more from fear than blood loss.
“Give it to me.” His voice was harsh as he extended his hand toward me, palm up, his eyes boring into me.
I hesitated, even though I knew I needed to give it to him. It was why I had come here. I shouldn’t have it. If I had learned anything in the last two hundred years, it was that.
My lips pressed into a tight line as I shifted my weight, my hand fidgeting with my pocket in an attempt to remove the blade from where I had stowed it. My heart rate increased again the closer my fingers got, the sound echoing in my ears as Rosaline’s cries intensified louder and louder and …
Mommy!
My body twitched as the single word erupted in my head, pulling at my memory with a start and igniting my magic to dangerous levels.
No one moved; they stood still, waiting.
With my lips in a tight line, I moved again, forcing the thing from my pocket, trying to ignore the way it had opened up into loud, racking sobs. The sound ripped into me as I extended the blade toward the man who had saved my life on more than one occasion, and I was quite certain he was going to do so again.
“Ryland,” Ilyan said, his focus solely on the blood red shard of the blade I extended toward him, his lip curled in what was unmistaken disgust.
The boy stepped forward, his curls bobbing as he handed Ilyan a small, metal box, the top of which opened on its own. Ilyan extended the empty vessel toward me, his intent clear.
Without question, I dropped the blade into the case, the sound of the screams and cries that came from the blade growing more panicked as the lid closed, Ilyan’s magic sealing it in place. Then there was only an indefinable calm that stretched over me.
Only freedom.
“What were you thinking?” Ilyan’s voice was as firm as the lines in his face, the look in his eyes compressing into my shoulders as, for the first time, I looked away from the powerful man before me.
“She’s my daughter, Ilyan,” I gasped, hot tears moving down my cheeks again. “I can’t abandon her.”
“She’s my niece. She’s my blood as well as yours.” Ilyan sighed, pulling my focus to him, drawn to the calmness of his voice, to the soft hand that extended toward me. “Do you think I would abandon her, as well?”
All I could do was stare at him, stare at the calm in his eyes, stare at the gesture of his hand before me. My heart thundered heavily in my chest as I tried to vet what he had said, the guilt ripping me apart.
“I’ve been a fool,” I whispered.
He pressed his lips into a tight line, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. “Give me your hand, Wynifred.”
Swallowing, I did as I was told, placing my uninjured hand in his palm, just to have him smile and drop it, picking up the other without question. Then his magic seeped into me as he began to heal it.
“I know you better than to think you would defect to my father, let alone marry him,” Ilyan sighed, his smile fading back into the hard line I had expected. “But do something like this one more time, Wynifred, and you will force my hand.”
I looked at him, his hand a vise around mine, his magic throbbing through me with a powerful flood of energy I knew was more in warning than in healing.
I stared at him for one moment, knowing I needed to trust him. I needed to trust myself.
And I nodded.
I could breathe up here. Even though the lingering smell of smoke saturated the air, I didn’t feel quite as confined as I had in the mad house that the cathedral had become.
Thanks to both the destruction of the chapel and the makeshift hospital going up in flames, everything had become crammed. Crammed and crazy.
It had been less than a day, but already, tensions were higher than they had been hours before.
Sain had revealed himself for what he truly was, leaving his followers wondering about the deceptions they had been told, about what they could trust, if anything.
It would have been nice if they hadn’t believed in Sain’s games, in his lies. But that wasn’t the case. After all, everything Sain had said fit. And many of the rumors refused to die. It was only after I had stopped screaming that the hospital burned, and I was found inside of it, miraculously unharmed.
Now everyone was crammed into tents and tiny rooms, living on top of each other as we rebuilt from the attack. Tensions were high. Even watching them from up here, I could see them huddled together, the gossip never ending, the arguments I had come up here to escape continually breaking out.
And here I was, thinking it would get easier after I revealed Sain for what he truly was.
Is that why you left me alone to dispel this mess? Ilyan asked into my mind. The quick response made it clear he was tuned into me, something that had been a little more common since yesterday and all the sights I had been trapped in.
I couldn’t really blame him. I just wished he wasn’t keeping me out of his mind quite as much. That was new, and I didn’t like it.
“I don’t see it as dispelling so much as ‘handling’ with a greater finesse than I could ever muster.” I laughed as I said it, and his own chuckle joined in.
Taking a deep drink of the Black Water I held, the warm liquid warming me from the inside out, I closed my eyes, blocking out the endless sunset I was surrounded by, if only for a moment. Besides, Ilyan, it’s beautiful up here. You should join me. Leave Ryland to clean up the mess.
Spoken like a true queen. I couldn’t see it, but I could hear the wide smile in Ilyan’s voice. The humor in the situation leaked through our connection and filled me like a deep, warm bubble.
I felt so warm and relaxed from the connection, my heart moving into a familiar rhythm as it thumped to match his, our souls binding together. It was enough to make me leave the safe confines I had closeted myself up in and find him. Almost.
I leaned forward from where I was hiding near the roof of the ancient cathedral, over the old stonework of the flying buttresses that connected to the low spires to the chapel. I could see everything from up here, even beyond the bustling courtyard, beyond the barriers of Ilyan’s shield and into the city.
The soaring heights of the building lifted me above the world below and gave me that same freedom I had sought after for so many years. After all, it wasn’t the first roof of a building I had found sanctuary on
. Although the gothic cathedral was stuck in a state of architectural disarray, thanks to the little mishap Wyn and I’d had, this was still secure. This was still one step away from flying.
I needed that right now.
Long stretches of stone leapt through the air high above the ground, lining the roof, or what was left of it. Each swath of stonework stretched forward with intricately carved shapes lining the surface. I clung to one as I looked for Ilyan, the stone knot slick from the ash of the fire, the gargoyles that surrounded me wearing beards and hats of grey. I considered finding ash to match, if only to hide better.
I am queen, I whispered back, forcing as much feigned prissiness as I could muster into my voice.
You are my queen, Ilyan’s response came, his voice deep as his magic flooded me, the powerful connection pulling me right to the tall blond-haired man who stood in the middle of the space, his face turned up to where I was hidden, his lips spread into a wide smile. My beautiful queen.
I couldn’t help the way everything heated and relaxed inside of me. My heart beat faster as that amazing love he shared with me filled me from my head to my toes.
Giggling like a lunatic, I pressed the mug to my lips again, only to hear Ilyan’s chuckle move through me, his love swelling before someone pulled his focus and made him return to the traumatic reality we were surrounded by. It was something I couldn’t avoid much longer.
“Just one more,” I said with a sigh, more to myself than anyone else as I refilled my mug with one pulse of my power.
Dangling my feet over the edge of stone ledge I sat upon, I made myself comfortable, content to watch the action through the intricate designs in the stone as long as I could. Part of me wished I could hide up here until everything was over, but I knew that wasn’t possible anymore.
I had tried to hide with Wyn at first, but she was confined to Thom and Dramin’s room “until further notice,” and I didn’t want to be stuck in there any more than she did. Between Thom being trapped in a coma, Wyn being exhausted from the emotional onslaught, and the fact that Dramin had become even more closeted, mysterious, and sulky after the fire, that room had turned into little more than a high school detention hall.
Between that or the roof, I thought I had chosen wisely.
With another deep drink from my mug, warmth moved over me, the deep Drak power blazing to life, morphing into an image of Ovailia, tears streaming down her face. The shadow of the sight blended over the courtyard below me, the two images intermingling uncomfortably.
My heart rate picked up at what I was seeing, the warmth Ilyan had left me with vanished with one flash of the sight. Without a second thought, I closed my eyes, opening them to the black and letting the sight take hold.
The sounds of Ovailia’s sobs moved over me, rumbling in my ears as she cried. I could see the whites of her eyes through the deep shadow she was surrounded by, panic and fear running through her as blood dripped down her face. My magic prodded the image to move as I tried to look away from what my sight had focused on, trying to find any clue as to what was happening. But it was only darkness, only the shadow of her face, only the sound of her sobs. The scent of her blood washed over me as I watched it drip down her cheek, the iron and salt smelling sweet, but I wasn’t sure why.
This wasn’t the first time my magic had shown me this moment in time. I had seen it only hours before, and even then, it was no more than her crying in a dark room. I couldn’t tell if it was past or present or even what was happening. The image wasn’t clear enough.
With a blink of my eyes, I banished the sight, storing it away with the others. My heart rate slowly decelerated as the people below me came back into focus. Even though this reality wasn’t any more relaxing than what I had seen, it at least felt more stable.
Did you see any more? Ilyan asked from somewhere below me. The simple question made it clear he had seen everything I had, something that was happening consistently since he had been pulled into that sight.
I cringed at his question, part of me desperately wishing I had at least seen something to put his mind at ease, if simply to get him to stop asking me about it.
Don’t get me wrong; Ovailia was barely one step from the bottom of the list of ‘people I would like to kill,’ but she was also my mate’s sister. I knew him well enough to understand that, even though he would never say it. I could feel him worry for her. I could feel his need to still protect her somehow. I wished I felt the same.
“It’s still dark,” I whispered to myself with the slightest hint of a growl, taking a quick drink in an effort to mask my irritation.
Will it become clearer? he asked, causing my shoulders to knit together a bit.
It might, I sighed, knowing full well my irritation was becoming more obvious. Or it could be that the room is dark.
I was snotty and I knew it, as did Ilyan. Anyone else might have backed off, but Ilyan chuckled, the whimsical sound blending into me as I relaxed again.
Point taken.
Rolling my eyes at his response, I leaned back, resting against the cold stone of the cathedral, fully intending to fall asleep and make some excuse for my disappearance later.
Drak’s don’t sleep.
Thanks for the reminder, darling, I growled.
His laugh intensified before I gently locked him out of my mind, needing some form of silence for a bit.
Silence and a steaming mug of Black Water.
“Just one more,” I said again, refilling it and hating the weird amount of guilt that moved through me.
I shouldn’t feel bad about taking a moment to myself, but I did. I vaguely remembered my mom saying something about that once … about responsibility and requirement. Stupid adult-hood. If I could see the path to end this fiasco, it would be worth it.
With a sigh, I pulled the tiny bottle of green fluid out of my pocket, the poisonous contents already transferred to another shatterproof container. After I had found it yesterday, I had known it was the key to healing Thom, but I hadn’t gotten any closer to that actually happening. My magic hadn’t given me any more clues, even with sitting between him and Wyn for about six hours last night. I got nothing. Then again, I might have been more concerned with fixing the massive hole in Wyn’s hand than harnessing whatever juju my magic had a tendency to whisper at me.
Six hours and it didn’t look any better than it had when she showed up outside the barrier. Whatever that blade had done to Wyn, it had made it impossible to close. I had a feeling we would have to find her some pretty epic gloves to cover that mess. She would never win another game of jacks in her life.
“I had a feeling I’d be running into you up here eventually.”
I jumped at the voice, Black Water flying all over me at the almighty jerk caused from hearing Ryland’s voice so close without warning.
“Ry!” I yelled, halfway between anger, frustration, and amusement. I was glad he wasn’t up to killing me yet, and hated that it was my first reaction. I hadn’t felt that need in a while.
Standing quickly, water dripping over me, I looked to the casual intruder, his eyes wide as he rushed toward me in a panic.
“Jos! Wow! I’m sorry!” I saw what he was doing no more than a second before he did, the words, the desperate plea for him to stop coming a second too late.
“Stop!” I snapped as he reached out to help, as his hand made contact with the Black Water that covered me, as he yelled out in pain.
The contact with his skin against the water pulled me into prophecy, the connection with his heart taking me right into his life, right into what he wanted to know.
The ember burn of my eyes grew darker as images of his life flashed before me: his childhood, his moments with me, the abuse he suffered in the dungeons of Imdalind. I saw it all. My heart seized at the pain and loss and confusion that dwelled in his heart, at the desperate need for something to be okay, for something in his life to be beautiful.
I watched his memories, his past, as he put a smile on his f
ace, as he continued to fight through the pain of life, through the uncertainty of the hell we were marching into. My own heart seized right alongside his, my own pain and troubles increasing, the depth of my understanding scaring me.
The depth of my own need for that silver lining.
As his desire swelled inside me, the sight changed, the images becoming fogged as they moved into an unknown future. There was an image of him ageing, wisdom lining his face as hundreds of years moved by him, as the world around him changed, and the life around him changed with it. He was still the same boy, save for the lines that covered his face, evidence of a million smiles and a happy life. His eyes were filled with joy, and in his arms was a beautiful, little boy with dark, curly hair.
Ryland smiled at the child, throwing him into the air as his laugh rippled through my head. The sound was loud and beautiful as it swelled through me before the sight faded, reality shifting back into focus, and the boy who was desperately blowing at the burns on his fingers swam into view.
Shaking my head, I let the dizziness drift away, my magic swelling with whispers and promises as, one by one, the prophecies of his life left.
“What the heck, Jos?” Ryland yelled, his eyes dangerously dark. “Do you burn people now?”
“No,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “But Black Water does, and you should know better. And blowing on them won’t help, by the way.”
It was probably good I couldn’t be mad at him after what I had seen, after the emotional connection I had shared with him. Instead of the verbal assault he probably would have gotten, I just rolled my eyes again, wrapping my hand around his fingers, letting my magic soothe him, taking away the Black Water that had moved into him.
“And I should know this why? I mean, my experience with Black Water is so extensive.” I could tell he was trying to control the anger in him yet obviously failing.
I laughed, something that didn’t really sit well, unfortunately.
“Don’t worry, Ry. Mine isn’t much better.” Releasing his hand from mine, I looked at his now healed fingers, my own brand of awe moving through me. Nothing was there, just perfectly healed skin. I didn’t think that was possible with Black Water burns. I might have to try that on Ilyan’s chest or even his palm. I knew he would be grateful not to deal with the endless pain those gave him. “Feel better?”
Dawn of Ash Page 32