Eyes of Ember (Imdalind Series #2)

by Rebecca Ethington

  I turned to him and extended my hand. He grabbed it eagerly, wrapping my hand in his. He leaned forward, his torso close to me as he absorbed my words.

  “My body gets weaker and weaker.” Ilyan’s magic surged through my shoulder and I smiled. “I can’t control the nightmares, but I can control the Tȍuha. I can’t do it tonight. I can’t do it tomorrow.”

  “I understand, Joclyn. And when you wake tonight and your heart is aching and your mind is screaming, I will still be here.” I leaned toward him and wrapped my arms around him, the chair awkward in between us.

  “I know, Ilyan. I can’t do it without you,” I whispered in his ear, surprised when he lifted me up and swung my legs up over his other arm.

  He held me against him as he moved, carrying me to my bunk. He sat me down softly, his hand sliding up to rest against my neck. His finger touched my mark and the now familiar jolt shot through me. I closed my eyes at the touch, my heart hammering, unsure of what I felt or what I wanted to feel.

  “That is why I am here,” Ilyan whispered, his lips millimeters from my face. “That’s why I was born. I have waited the last thousand years so I could protect you.”

  I closed my eyes and exhaled softly, his proximity making it hard for me to focus.

  “Someone has to help me hold up the world.” I spoke softly, more to myself than to Ilyan, but Ilyan smiled anyway.

  “Ah, you’ve been talking to Thom.” He smiled and moved to sit on the side of bunk. He pulled the heavy blankets over me, his hand resting softly on my knee.

  “It took some doing to get it out of him, I’ll admit.”

  “He is a very smart man. He just has a lot of pain in his heart – a lot of regret.”

  “How does he know Wyn??” I asked.

  “He doesn’t,” He said, his voice strained, “He knew her Mother.”

  “Oh.” I guess that made sense, but that was quite the reaction he had earlier.

  Ilyan looked at me, my eyes drooping further the longer he stared at me. Finally he shook his head and gently helped me to lie down, his hand smoothing over my hair. I was suddenly very worried that he was about to leave me.

  “Sleep well, Jos.” I smiled at his use of my nickname before panic set in.

  “Ilyan.” My hand shot out to grab his, desperate to stop him from leaving. “Will you stay with me, just for tonight? I don’t mean… but I need…”

  I stuttered to a stop as Ilyan came back, his finger tip tracing the lines of my face.

  “I know.”

  My eyes began to droop again at his touch, at the gentle magical pulses that he weaved through my body. His finger left my face as he moved, my eyes opening as I watched him move to the foot of the bunk, his strong arms hoisting him up to settle near my feet.

  “I will stay here, Joclyn. I want you to go to sleep now.”

  I felt his magic grow in my shoulder, the strong energy moving through me as he put me to sleep. I tried to fight him for a moment before I gave in, letting the world of sleep, and the horrors that it held, take me.

  “Good night my love.”

  Twenty-Eight

  IsolaSanta was a small tourist trap of a village in the high Alps of Italy. It consisted of one restaurant, a small hotel, and a few homes of those who worked in and ran the small businesses. Each house was made of grey brick, with the trademark alleys and small walkways that were signature of the renaissance. The whole thing was nestled up against a beautiful lake, the high mountains surrounding us on all sides.

  It was beautiful. I looked around in wonder as I sat in one of the many outdoor tables of the town’s café and forced down my perfectly sautéed mushrooms, the crisp mountain air breezing through my hair, moving the clumps around awkwardly. I just hoped I didn’t smell too bad, I didn’t need too many of the tourists cringing in my direction. I had already had a few.

  Ilyan looked around uneasily before his magic surged through me strongly. Even though I could now easily manage my own shield, Ilyan didn’t want to take the risk. I was grateful for it anyway. I could already feel my body ache from being outside the Tȍuha so long. I should have been calm and collected in this beautiful place, but instead I was so on edge I could barely function.

  Ilyan looked as he did 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 ripped and dirty, it was nothing compared to the disarray I was in. My clothes were filthy, my hair greasy and matted, and I am sure 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 as he laughed.

  I looked back to him, narrowing my eyes as I contemplated what to say. “I think I like you better 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 don’t know why this conversation was making me uncomfortable, but it was.

  “Maybe I will cut it for you,” he mused.

  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 this morning that it was imperative that Ovailia did not find out 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 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 ignored 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’s 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. But it’s everything, all of it. How strong you are, how confident, how powerful.” I cringed. “You’re amazing, Joclyn.” My heart thumped into a restart, 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 on the back.

  “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 kept a hold on her shoulders. “I’m so glad you are okay!”

  Ilyan’s voice was so pained, so relieved. I felt bad. Especially given what the situation was. The planned double-cross
ing 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, her voice strained. “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 a bit 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. Subconsciously 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 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 anymore. 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. My body was angry with me, it needed Black Water.

  “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.” I kept my head down. I was not enjoying this reminder as to why I did not enjoy Ovailia’s company.

  “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.”

  I flinched at her words and sunk into the chair, my body aching as I looked away from both of them and toward the café.

  “Be polite, Ovailia,” Ilyan scolded her loudly his leg moving against mine more. I looked toward him, grateful for the contact. “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 fought the urge to yell at her. To tell 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 kept his hair in the dreads.

  Ilyan and Ovailia spoke in Czech, their tones quick and irritated, before I felt Ilyan’s hand on my chin. He lifted my head and I closed my eyes, not wanting to be looked at.

  “I think she is beautiful.”

  His chosen words in front of Ovailia caught me off guard and I opened my eyes.

  “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, hating the way people were wrinkling their noses at me.

  “Sit down,” Ilyan hissed, yanking her arm back down toward the table.

  I felt his magic flare in me abruptly, his power pressing right up against my barrier. He turned his head slightly to either side as if looking for something. I closed my eyes and expanded my vision, but I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

  Ovailia sat down with a pout, her descent making almost as much noise as her outburst.

  “Get Ryland?” she hissed. “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.

  “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, but 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 but think that I was signing Wyn’s death certificate.

  “Let Joclyn come with me,” Ovailia said.

  Ilyan’s magic flared and I gasped as it pushed roughly against my barrier. 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. In fact, I was quite content to sit and let the two of them duke it out.

  “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 hope that he had seen it too, but 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.

  “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 hard at each other, neither of them spoke and I got the feeling they were very carefully dancing around each other in a gam
e of chess. Each one was plotting their next move. Each one was tracking the movements of the other and waiting for a misstep.

  “I have my reasons,” Ilyan said. “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 said as she turned away from us and continued down the street. Ilyan’s eyes finally left mine as he covered his face, leaning his head over the table. I let him stay like that for a moment, not knowing how to react, or what to say to him.

  “Ilyan?” I whispered his name after a moment, reaching over the table to grab his hand from off of his face. He looked up at me, his eyes glistening.

  “You were right, Joclyn. She simply can’t be trusted.”

  “So you think she is working with Edmund then?” I asked as I put the mushroom I had picked up back on the plate.

  “I am fairly certain of it. 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.