‘Attack me with magic.’ he would say… ‘Why don’t I stand still so you can land all your attacks on me without hassle?’ I would rebut.
Well, not really. I wouldn’t dare say that to him. But, it was how it always went. There was no glory in this for me, only pain and more broken toes.
Ilyan spread his hands once in a high arch and the walls shimmered as he trapped us in another protective shield. This one guaranteed that we wouldn’t destroy the tiny prison we called home.
But it wouldn’t be prison for long. I just had to mark him once and I could leave for the night. Win the match, and I could leave forever. I jumped to my feet, I could do this.
I didn’t hesitate this time. I needed the upper hand if I was going to have any chance of marking him. I sliced my hand through the air, sending a long chain of magical energy soaring to him like a javelin, with the intent to wrap him in it like a vice. Ilyan jumped back as he diminished the flow of my attack, but not before the end of the chain sliced through his shirt.
“Very nice, Silnỳ. But not good enough.” I saw his motion a moment too late and dove to the side as a ripple of energy impacted with the shield that surrounded us, sending a wave of colors vibrating through the protective layer.
“Try harder,” he yelled, as he sent a line of freezing water above my head. I winced as it hit the shield above me, showering me with droplets of ice.
I threw my hand out, shooting a pulse of light and fire toward him. It breezed through the bright colors that fluxed around us. I didn’t stop to see if it made contact, instead I scrambled to my feet hoping to gain my bearings. I faced him and instantly threw a handful of conjured metal beads in his direction. The pellets disintegrated against Ilyan’s personal shield, as he streamed electricity toward me. I threw a shield up just in time, the powerful magic crashing into my barrier instead.
“Fight back, Joclyn.” He yelled. “You would have won in the bathroom. You had it all, emotional force, surprise...”
“The fact that you were only wearing a towel, didn’t hurt either,” I countered, throwing another attack in his direction only to have him dodge it. Ilyan laughed boisterously at me.
“Yes, but how often are you going to be fighting someone in a towel?” He said as he shot another surge in my direction, which I countered, and the two streams collided in the center surrounding us with brightly colored sparks.
“Not often enough,” I said under my breath.
“That is why, Ryland will always defeat you, because he can play on your emotions. And he knows it.”
“Don’t remind me.” I shoved wind in his direction, smiling when he skidded away from me again.
Ilyan brought this up every day. I knew he was right. I just didn’t like the reminders. This time I realized that he had given me a weapon too. I could play on Ilyan’s emotions.
I waited for his next attack only to dodge it. I moved as quick as I could, embracing my speed, to sidle right up to him. I grabbed his shirt and pulled his tall body into me, his face millimeters away from mine.
“Don’t hurt me.” I said softly as I placed my hand gently against the skin of his neck. I let my hand grow warm with power for a moment to signal to him that I had won. His eyes changed from soft and concerned to a smoldering pride so fast I might have missed the change.
“I win.”
“That’s dirty, Joclyn.” I stepped away from him, not liking the look that he was giving me. “I am not sure if I can accept that as a win.”
“You better!” I snapped, “It had all the elements of a successful attack, plus surprise, and a play on emotions, just like you said. Although why it worked on you, I will never know.”
“I’m your protector, Silnỳ. I am hard-wired not to hurt you.” He released the barrier and put the room back to normal with one swipe of his hand. But I stayed still, my brain clicking together.
“My protector?” I asked, rephrasing the words. “What do you mean, My Protector?”
Ilyan stopped and turned to face me, his hand dragging heavily through his hair again. “I protect everyone, Joclyn. You included.”
I stared at him, he had said it before and I took it to mean just that, but this time his inflection was different. Something was off in the way he said it, like it was a job he took pride in. It didn’t mean wandering around and saving people to him. He was still dragging his hand through his hair, making it obvious he was keeping something from me.
“Get a better poker face, Ilyan. What aren’t you telling me?” Ilyan smiled at me before returning from the kitchen, a small box in his hands.
“Jakmile pochopíte všechno, a může přijmout to, co vám řeknu, pak, a nejen jim řeknu vám všechno, má lásko. Ale ani o vteřinu dříve.” I glared at him. He knew my Czech consisted of ‘pass the leaves’ and ‘where is the bathroom’.
“Understand? Accept what? Love what? What did you say, Ilyan? You know I don’t understand most of what you said. My Czech is not very good.” He smiled at me and placed the small box in my hands.
“Exactly.”
I jerked the box away from him angrily, I hated cryptic answers. Ilyan was full of them.
“I made those for you, for Prague, but wear them tonight. They will look nice in the city. I am going to go get you something besides pajama pants to wear. Stay inside.” He smiled at me once before leaving, the door locking behind him.
I looked down to the folded brown paper bag, a small pink ribbon tied around the top. It never ended well when a man made anything for a woman to wear, and the thought of what could be inside this package worried me.
I slipped the bow from the paper and tipped the bag, letting the contents fall out into my hands.
The most intricate red leather shoes rolled onto my palms. I could tell right away they would fit. The toes of the shoes were folded into a fan shape that gave the impression of a blossoming rose. A tiny pearl was nestled in the middle of each one. Surrounding the sole of the shoe was a five part leather braid that circled seamlessly around. I couldn’t find the beginning or the end. The stitching around the sole and around the top was small and intricate, each one done with precision. I stared at the shoes in awe. That these could be made by a person, let alone Ilyan, was impossible. I lay the sturdy shoes on the floor and slipped my bare feet into them. They were beautiful.
Of course, I recognized them as what he had been working on while I lay dying months before. While he had been nursing me, healing me, he had also been working on these shoes. Even then, he didn’t think I was going to die.
I hadn’t thought about it in three months, but now I couldn’t help but wonder what Ilyan’s backup plan could have been. I now knew he had something else in mind if joining Ryland in the Tȍuha hadn’t cured me. Something deep inside told me these shoes were meant for that, not for a night on the town.
Six
It took a minute after Ilyan had left for reality to click in. Ilyan was getting me clothes, and I was going to get to leave. Of course, this would mean being around people again – something I really wasn’t fond of – but I would be outside my current prison and that was all that mattered.
I bounced on my toes and took the few steps to retrieve Ilyan’s cell phone from the kitchen counter. I flipped the phone open and speed dialed three to call Wyn. As the phone rang, I paced the floor in anticipation. It was surprising how soft the shoes were. The leather clung to my feet with the few steps I took. I could tell I was going to love them.
“Hello?” She sounded groggy. Odd, it was only nine at night in Prague right now.
“Wyn!” I almost screamed, my excitement exploding out of me. “I get to leave!”
It didn’t even take her a moment for what I had said to sink in. She squealed and repeated it, presumably to Talon who was always nearby.
“When are you leaving? Are you coming home? Please tell me you are coming right home,” she rattled on, Talon chuckling in the background.
“I’m not sure yet. Ilyan is taking me out fo
r dinner tonight. Then we get to leave soon.”
“But you don’t know where to yet?” Her voice had dropped, and my heart sunk a bit with it. I was so excited to be leaving the apartment, I hadn’t thought about where we would end up. But the thought of not getting to see Wyn again soon was depressing. As much as I was getting used to Ilyan’s company, and as much as I enjoyed being around him, I needed Wyn.
“Don’t rain on my parade, Wyn.” I grumbled.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that I miss you. It’s been months and with everything that’s happening, I worry.”
“What do you mean with everything that’s happening?” I asked.
I plopped down on the bed, curling my toes in the beautiful shoes, and waited. There was a much longer pause than I was used to as Talon whispered something in the background. It wasn’t like Wyn to hesitate. She usually said what was on her mind, whether it would offend someone or not.
“Wyn,” I prompted. “What’s going on?” My stomach tightened a bit in anticipation.
“Just with everyone looking for you, people being able to track your magic, and all that.”
I knew Ryland could track my magic, and would presumably be looking for me but Wyn made it sound like something more active.
“Everyone’s looking for me?” I said quietly. “Everyone like Ryland everyone, or everyone-everyone? I don’t suppose you and Talon were planning a rescue mission to get me out of my studio-sized prison?”
“Ryland everyone, Jos.” She paused, and my shoulders knit together in frustration.
Twice in one day I wasn’t being told exactly what was going on. Worst of all, people were keeping things from me. ‘People’ being Wyn and Ilyan to be specific. And Wyn was probably just following orders. While Ilyan had a right not to tell me everything, I trusted him – with my life, my secrets. He had become more than a friend. Hearing that he was keeping something from me, for the second time in under an hour, made my head hurt.
“He can’t track my magic behind Ilyan’s shield, Wyn,” I said, a little perturbed that my good news had been smashed.
“I think it’s a little bit more than that, Jos. I think it’s more of an active searching.” Active searching? Wyn made it sound like someone was hovering on the balcony waiting for me to absent-mindedly walk out.
“Why wouldn’t Ilyan tell me?”
“I am not sure Ilyan knows, Jos.” Her voice was quiet.
“What?” I asked, my back straightening in alarm. “What do you mean he doesn’t know?”
There was a scuffling and more whispering on the other end of the line. I held the phone to my ear tightly, desperate to hear anything. Ilyan always knew what was going on. He had spies and contacts everywhere who reported back to him. His phone rang off the hook most of the day with reports on Edmund and Ryland, and Prague, and who knows what else. The fact that he could possibly not know something scared me.
“Wyn?” I asked when I couldn’t wait anymore. There was a bit more of a whispered fight and then Talon took the line, his deep voice booming through the long distance connection.
“Hey Jos. It’s Talon, how’re you doin’ little girl?”
“I’m fine, Talon. Can you please tell me what is going on?” I was practically begging, but I needed someone to pull me back from the edge of my growing fear.
“Sure kid,” he exhaled deeply, and for a moment I was worried he was going to lead me on too. “Last week I was harvesting in the orchard when I overheard someone crying and whimpering, I’m not sure who. They were begging for help and pleading with someone. I heard them give whoever they were pleading with your location. I ran to find out what was going on, but nothing was there. No one was in the trees.”
“A few other people have heard it too,” Wyn broke in, having obviously put me on speaker phone, “someone whimpering and crying. But no one can figure out who.”
“What are you saying, that there is a spy in our midst?” I said, purposefully making my words sound like a spy movie in an attempt to break the tension. It didn’t work.
“That’s exactly what we are saying, Jos,” Talon said.
I threw myself back on my bed. I should be happy. I was finally getting out of the house, we had decided Ryland might still be able to be saved, and soon I was going to leave this prison forever. But now, I was stressed and uncomfortable.
“And Ilyan doesn’t know?”
“Ovailia is looking into it, but I don’t know if she told him yet. I would assume not if he is planning on taking you out to dinner tonight,” Wyn said. I could hear Talon whisper something behind her again.
“Why didn’t you call and tell me or Ilyan?”
More whispering, I waited for a minute, my impatience growing.
“Jos,” Wyn sighed, “Ovailia is looking into it. If she had found something she would have told him, right?”
Ovailia should have told him even if she didn’t think she had ‘found something.’ Something wasn’t right. My heart ached and beat uncomfortably. I didn’t like things being kept from me, and these were the worst types of things, things that affected me. To make it worse, not only were things being kept from me, but from Ilyan as well. I needed answers, and being stuck in this apartment was limiting my resources.
“Can I...” I was going to regret this, “Can I speak to Ovailia?”
“Why?” Wyn asked, worried. I didn’t blame her, being around Ovailia was uncomfortable enough, asking about something like this was sure to be an unpleasant experience.
“Because I need to hear it from her, and I have something else to ask her anyway.” I said, quickly stringing together one worry with another.
“Ilyan will be very upset if you go behind his back,” Talon warned, his voice deeper than usual.
“Nah, if he is he will just torture me by making me spar with him again.”
Talon chuckled softly, his voice making the phone’s microphone vibrate. Talon and Wyn had warned me about Ilyan’s temper, but I had never seen it. Maybe it had something to do with this protector nonsense he was throwing around, which was the other thing I wanted to ask Ovailia about. My stomach tightened as I began to second guess myself. Ovailia on the phone. What was I thinking?
“Alright, but it’s your funeral.”
I heard a knock on a heavy door and then Talon said something, his voice muffled. Ovailia snapped something back. I instantly regretted this decision, and she wasn’t even on the phone yet.
“Hello, Joclyn, what a pleasant surprise.” Ovailia’s voice was as sweet as acid, as usual. It didn’t sound like she was pleasantly surprised, it sounded like I was asking her to pluck all her hair out strand by strand.
“Hello Ovailia.” I tried to sound chipper.
“What can I do for you?” I almost lost my nerve, but decided to plow through. If for nothing more than to be off the phone with her. Trying to explain why I wanted to talk to her without asking my questions would have been worse.
“Wyn tells me there is a spy in Prague, and I know Ilyan doesn’t know.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. I hoped my bluntness would prompt her to tell me what I needed.
“How could you possibly know if I have told Ilyan or not?” I could almost see her eyebrows arch and rise delicately on her perfect face.
“Because, if he knew, he wouldn’t be taking me out to dinner tonight.” There was a pause, but it wasn’t the pause of someone who is contemplating how much information to tell you. This was Ovailia, and her pauses ended with her decision of how much to scold you.
“He’s taking you out? Out of the apartment?” I was surprised by the alarm in her voice, she obviously hadn’t told him.
“Yes, and I am concerned that as ‘My Protector’ he doesn’t know that Edmund might already know where I am hiding.” I placed it well, hoping the words were heavy enough that she would either give away what Ilyan had meant or verify that the words meant nothing.
There was a pause, and I waited. I didn’t dare say anything,
worried I wouldn’t get any of the answers I needed. But instead of answers, Ovailia began to laugh.
“Your protector?” she said through her wicked laugh.
“Your protector. Oh you stupid little girl, don’t make me laugh. If he had told you, you wouldn’t be saying the words with such pride. You would be terrified.” She laughed harder and my stomach dropped. “I will tell Ilyan when I am ready. Don’t you ever come prying for information from me again, or I can assure you, you will get more then you bargained for.”
The phone went dead, and I dropped it to the floor like it was poison.
That didn’t go at all as I had planned. Not only did Wyn dash my joy at getting to leave the apartment, but my impromptu espionage for answers blew up in my face. It was obvious that the news of the spy was being kept from Ilyan, and that Ilyan was in fact ‘my protector’ – whatever that meant. But worst of all, my chat with Ovailia left me feeling dirty and even more stressed.
Secrets, lies, spies. I didn’t like it at all.
I stood and stumbled around the apartment for a minute, waiting for my brain to tell me what I should do next. Ilyan wouldn’t be home for an hour at least, and who knows how much trouble I just got Talon and Wyn into – I cringed at the thought.
I needed to talk to someone. And there was only ever one person I could really talk to.
Without thinking, I grabbed my necklace and pushed my magic into it. This Ryland wouldn’t hold my hand and talk me through my problems like he used to, but I could at least talk without him judging me.
I opened my eyes to the Tȍuha and gasped. Everything had been destroyed in the few short hours since I had left him. Every single drawing, every one of Ryland’s masterpieces, were smudged and smeared, some erased completely. I looked around me in shock, my mouth hanging wide open in horror. Could this day get any worse?
Eyes of Ember (Imdalind Series #2) Page 6