I walked into the hall that led to his ornate set of rooms, the once polished cave walls lined with divots of a magical attack that had been unleashed only days before, perfect outlines of ash detailing where Skȓíteks had once stood. Thick lines of their blood were splattered against the walls and pooled in dried patches against the floor. Ilyan’s immaculate belongings burst from the many doors, the clothing specifically designed for council and for weddings ripped and soiled with blood and body matter, precious stones ripped unceremoniously from the once elegant fabric.
Everything stunk in the warm scent of death, the putrid aroma wrinkling my nose as I passed it. A small smile twitched at the corner of my lips at the thought of Ilyan’s face if he was to ever see this hall again. To see what we had done and where the remains of the last of his people had ended up.
Part of me wanted to be there when he did see in order to witness the beauty of his agony. To watch his heart break from within his body as we added his precious half-breed to the remains.
My father stood right inside the last set of doors, his guards standing at attention all around him, at the entrance and lining the walls of the massive space. Even if there was a chance at someone getting this far into the maze of Imdalind, they wouldn’t be able to get at him.
The ceilings stretched into massive stone buttresses, natural light filtering in from the mirrored shafts that stretched to the surface in the serpentine tunnels that were only mildly less confusing than the ones we had been trying to infiltrate for the past two months.
What once had been Ilyan’s main living space was now left in shambles more disastrous than the hall that led to it. Furniture lay in splinters, feathers and cotton and glass spread over the floor in a maze of texture, only to have the whole array covered with crimson blood and ebony ink. It was art in a way.
It was beautiful.
The smell was even worse in here if it was possible. However, after walking through the hall, my body wasn’t rebelling against it as much.
My hair flew over my shoulder with a flip of my head, the sound of my shoes growing louder as I approached my father. His focus was on the detailed model of the tunnel system he had been working on since I first had been able to gain him access to the serpentine cave system.
Of course, it hadn’t been without recourse.
It should have been easy. My father had built many of these caves; he knew where the well lay. Or at least, he had.
Unbeknownst to everyone, Ilyan had been working to expand and move the caves, changing the paths and trails in all the time that Edmund had been barred from them. Meaning, the information that was once only privy to Edmund and Ilyan was now only known by the poster child for good, himself.
My lips curled.
At least Ilyan was in the city. Even if the Vilỳs weren’t able to take control of his mind and power, he would still be of use to us.
“They are above the clock.” My voice reverberated off the white, stone walls, the large acoustic space making the sound much louder than I had meant it to be.
Edmund remained hunched over, his hair falling over his eyes as he studied the diagram. His fingers drawing lines of magic as he attempted to ascertain the correct path to where he hoped the wells were.
“All of them?”
“I know for certain Sain and Wynifred have taken refuge there with Dramin, Thom, and Ryland.” The tap of my shoes moved in time with my words as I walked around the room, lifting what was once an elegant tunic with my toe. I remembered when the surfs had given it to Ilyan right after he had declared their debts paid.
An irritated scoff spilled from me at the disgusting memory. I would never understand why anyone saw him as a saint.
“But not Ilyan.” His eyes darted to mine for the briefest of seconds before settling back down on the model. The disappointment in that brief glance was so clear that I could almost feel his hand press against my spine.
I cringed against the fluid panic, straightening my back to face him.
The start of fear rolled through me, but I pushed it away. Fear was only a weakness that would get you killed. Sadness would only show the easiest way to dispose of you. I would do neither.
“Not that I saw, Father.” My voice was level as I stood before him, my confidence clear, but it still wasn’t enough to keep his rage at bay. It rippled down his back like a cat curling in preparation for attack.
My muscles tensed, but I did not move. I did not deviate my eyes from him. I was not a fool enough to do so.
“And why didn’t you wait to make sure my son had made it to the supposed safety with the others?” His voice was a growl as he rose to meet me, the depth of his hatred rolling through the room in waves of green.
“Wynifred ignited the city.”
Edmund jerked at my statement, his eyes wide with greed as his lips curled into a smile, the malice in his eyes seeping into me and igniting my own.
The gluttony grew, the desire for what he so desperately wanted coloring him along with the greasy smile that spread over his face. He walked toward me with that slow, calculated step he always had when he was plotting, when his mind was working far ahead of the cold, stone walls that held us.
I watched him move, my own greed growing, my own desire to see that magic in his hands swelling until I was regretting not having taken her then. With her power, it wouldn’t have mattered if we had Ilyan. With the fire magic, we could boil the stone down, and then Edmund could walk a straight path to the wells that held all the magic we needed to control the world.
“She used it again?” His voice was a snake that wound over my spine.
“Yes, Father.”
His smile grew, and this time, I stepped away. Foot falling over foot as I backed away from the fearful need that lined his face, an act that only fueled the desire that rampaged through him.
“The same as last time?”
“If she did the same, do you think I would still be standing here?” The words flew out without so much of a thought, the quick sass he had ingrained in me slipping out in one of the only places that it probably shouldn’t.
He blanched at my tone, the smile vanishing from his face before it returned, even more sinister than before.
My spine tensed at the rage that would follow my answer, the air in the room turning chill in expectation. Even the guards who surrounded us tensed, their eyes watching my father as he approached me, each impact of his foot against the floor resounding loudly in my ears.
“Tell me of Sain,” he snarled, his voice more of a warning than I would like to admit.
Even through the look, even through the fear he tried to instill in me, I stood tall, my eyes unwavering from his. At any other time, I might have tried to find my way out of the situation with flattery or lies, but this time, I had at least been able to give him what he wanted.
“It was as you said,” I whispered, careful to keep my voice low, to draw him into me with the news I had for him. “Sain has not escaped the bind you have on him, no matter how much he pretends to be free. Whatever you have done was enough, and he slipped. He slipped enough that I was able to find him before the attack began then incapacitate Thom and draw him back in.”
“So he is in love with you, then?”
“No,” I admitted, surprised to see his face fall.
My father prided himself on wooing and bedding women in record time, a skill that was passed on to none of his children. For whatever reason, he was not pleased with it, either. I had come close with Cail on his instruction, but the fool had died before I’d had a chance to complete the task. I still took his magic in the end.
“But his magic is still attempting to fuse with mine, something that I helped along. The possibility of a restored bond is too much for his weak energy to resist. Give it time, Father. He will feed into our hands, just as you wish.”
“So, he has seen you, then?” Edmund’s eyes flashed with greed again, desperate and needy as he watched me, unwavering as he held me in place.
“Yes.”
I would have thought the single word would have brought him joy with how he had taken the news so far, but in no more than a flash of light, the greed and desire that had filled him departed, leaving a mask of fury.
His eyes were dark, as he growled at me, “And what do you think will happen if he chooses to give Ilyan the information of your visit?”
I flinched at the ice in his voice, the carefully masked disgust that rang clear. I knew he had meant to manipulate me with the fear, but I felt none of it. It only ran through me like water as my own smile spread.
I took a step closer to him, his body stiffening in expectation of what, I wasn’t sure. He should know I wasn’t foolish enough to attack him. No matter how much power my body held, it still would not be enough to face him.
I wasn’t foolish enough to try.
I was foolish enough to face him for this, however.
He thought me to have failed, yet he shouldn’t be so naïve. He was the one who had raised me, after all, trained me, turned me into what I was.
For the first time, I felt as though I had lived up to that.
“That won’t happen.” I was sure of myself, a fact that only enraged him more. My own joy at the game grew with what I knew to be coming.
“How can you be so certain, Ovailia?” It was a snap that bit through me, but I ignored it as well as the warning in his eyes. I ignored the way his guards flinched and moved against the wall in preparation for what was coming.
“Because of what I did to Thomas.”
His rage froze in place. His face was stuck in confusion until what I had said began to slip into place, his dislike for Thom fueling a whole other set of emotions.
“Ah, yes, the most foolish and useless of my children. I’m always surprised to hear he has evaded me,” he sneered. “Tell me, what did you do to him?”
“I poisoned him.”
“Poison? From the Vilỳs?”
My smile only grew, the complexity of what I had done, of what I had created, swelling through me. Even my father with his brilliant mind could not see it.
An exhilaration twisted through me, tensing in my shoulders as I lifted my chin, ready to tell him and see the look in his eyes that I desired above all other.
“No father, with something the mortals do. It reacts to the body like a přetížení dávka but cannot be healed the same way. If he missteps even a little bit, I will destroy his dearest friend.”
“Control.” It was one word laced with so much emotion I could have bathed in it.
He looked at me as he processed what I had said, his hand lifting to press against my cheek. I froze, waiting for what would come next.
A pat or a slap.
Pride or distaste.
“Just as you have taught me, Father.” It was my last plea, and I was certain the tone in my voice revealed that. Right then, I didn’t care.
“And I couldn’t be prouder.” He smiled at me, his lips curling in a long, greasy line that oozed into me in a relaxing warmth I hadn’t felt from him in what seemed like centuries.
Right then, I couldn’t have been prouder to be his daughter.
I would do anything for him.
RYLAND
Twenty-One
“Take it out,” was my first thought since waking. It seeped out of me in a moan that sounded more pained than pleading, the ache of my body following right behind.
I was sure I was awake, although I wasn’t positive why I had been sleeping in the first place.
I wasn’t certain of anything, really, except for the dim, red hue that cast over my closed eyes and the soft, rough feel of old cotton sheets against my skin. Those I was sure of, but where I was, how I had gotten here, and in some small respect, even who I was remained a mystery.
Muscles ached and throbbed over me as I shifted my weight, trying to pull myself to sitting, only to have my muscles ache more in protest. My eyes were a soft weight as they fluttered open, the bright and dark of the strange red light burning through me as they attempted to adjust.
When they did, they only brought more confusion. They only brought tall, sweeping ceilings and old buttresses that, while part of me thought they should be familiar, they weren’t.
Nothing about this was familiar.
You’re home.
The voice was a distanced growl within me, a hum that bridged the reality of now and before.
I jerked.
It was a hollow sound that moved through me and became something deeper. Something more frightening.
It was then that it all came back.
I could see it all. The city we had worked so hard to get to. The rumble of the earth as the sky had dimmed around us. The screams and wind as the Vilỳs my father had mutated attacked us from all sides. Mostly, it was the voice—the voice that had rampaged through me, terrorized me. The taunts I had hoped would have become more manageable; instead, they had become an uncontrollable force I didn’t think I could have defeated had I tried.
And I had tried.
You haven’t tried hard enough.
But I had.
I had tried until the moment I had begged Wyn to remove the painful voices from me, until the world had become black. And now I had awakened in this strange place with the hollow sounds of breathing filtering toward me from all sides and distant footsteps echoing through the cavernous space.
The space I knew I could recognize even if it wasn’t familiar.
This cathedral was one I had only heard tell of—the massive holy place that stood in the center of Prague. And now I was here.
I’m here, too.
So is Ilyan…
You should kill them…
No.
Kill them all.
“No.” The word was calm as I stared at the ceiling, listening to the voice that had once been so loud and sure and was now distanced and fragmented, like the transmission was broken.
No.
Like the receiver had been removed.
The shard had been removed.
You can never escape me.
I think I already have, Father.
He yelled in anger at my reply, but the sound was distanced, my mind almost peaceful. It was like waking up from a deep sleep and having everything around me be new. Even if the voices were still there, they only seemed like a distanced memory now.
My hand shook as I lifted it to my chest, my fingers fluttering against my bare chest as they trailed toward my heart, toward the dozens of scars that had been cut through the skin straight to my heart. Straight to that battered, beating thing my father had used to control me and everyone around me for so long.
For the first time, right in that moment, I had regained control. My heart was mine once again.
Not completely. Not quite.
I couldn’t help smiling at the faint taunt, my heart not even so much as twisting in response.
Everything had changed.
The pain that had been there for so long was no longer an ache. The heaving agony of what he had forced me to endure was no longer a torture.
The voices were still there, but the sound was distant and easily forgotten. Although the madness was still pulling at my gut in all the wrong ways, something had changed.
The remote control they had instilled in me was no longer controlling my every move.
I pressed my hand against my chest, as if waiting for the sign that it was still there; however, it was nothing more than the heaving beat that promised me I was still alive.
Suddenly, the large stone archways that hung above me did not seem so old. The stone seemed brighter, the red hue of the sky giving everything a glistening, rosy glow.
You are still right where I want you.
Strangely, I didn’t care.
“It’s the St. Vitus Cathedral.” I had only heard the depth of his kind voice once or twice, but even now, in the strange place, it filled me with the same calm it had before.
I turned toward Dramin�
�s voice. On instinct, I almost expected the old man to be sitting beside me, drinking out of one of those ugly mugs. However, there was nothing, only the cavernous space of what had obviously been a dorm.
I would have expected pews; instead, there were rows and rows of the same beds. White wrought iron frames and sagging mattresses made up with over-washed crisp sheets. It was like something I had seen in a million movies.
An orphan grew up in some church setting, only to be inducted into some bizarre adventure. There was a book one of my nannies would have read me about that. Something along the lines of girls and lines and a tiger with bathroom issues.
I couldn’t remember.
The beds lined either side of the large hall, stacked one after another like dominos. Most of them were empty, with the exception of one a few feet away on my left where a small, dark-haired boy lay. Another was on the other side where my brother lay sleeping as if he was dead. The image was a weird jolt to my spine, one that probably would have grown into a panic if it wasn’t for Dramin who sat in the bed beside him, looking as unconcerned as though Thom was sleeping. I hoped that was the case.
Dramin was propped up against piles of pillows as if he could no longer support himself. Then again, judging by the bandages that were taped to his neck, I was sure he couldn’t.
I had only seen Dramin once before, and then I had been so bogged down by my demons I hadn’t really seen him. Not really. I had only seen the shadows of my subconscious. I had only seen the mutated reality that had been handed to me.
Now, looking at him from across the brightly lit hall, his face beaming with a positivity I didn’t think was possible given the situation, I couldn’t help seeing him. It was like someone had taken Sain, taught him to laugh at a young age, and then wiped the irritation out of his brow with a damp cloth.
Something about the man was intriguing, like family I didn’t know I had had.
“Excuse me?” I could barely get the words out.
“St. Vitus,” he said without looking at me, his focus up toward the ornate architecture that hung above us. “I knew you were wondering, so I am answering. Also, you were brought here by Ilyan. Wynifred had to put you under after your little … shall we say, episode?”
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