Kiss Of Fire (Imdalind Series)

by Ethington, Rebecca

  Ilyan turned away from Talon to face me, his smile widening just a bit as he passed Talon to kneel before me, taking my hands in his. I wanted to pull away from the close contact, but I didn’t.

  “Are you alright? Are you in any pain?”

  “I’m fine, a little stiff when I move, but nothing hurts like it did.”

  “Good, I’m glad to hear it. I had hoped to keep you in bed for longer, but it seems I need to make things like that an order.” He smiled before turning to Wyn who wilted a bit under his gaze.

  “I am sorry, Ilyan, I couldn’t stay in that room another moment. It’s so dark and musty. Besides I hated the ‘60s.” Wyn grumbled and folded her arms.

  “Yes, but my Mother loved them.”

  “Your mother?” I asked, my voice catching on the word. Odd since I wasn’t even talking about my own mother.

  “It’s okay,” Ilyan said. He had caught the heartbreak in my voice and brought his hand up to rest against my cheek. “You will get used to the pain you feel now. It will become part of you, eventually. I promise. But in the meantime, it’s okay to cry.” His voice became so low, I was sure that Wyn and Talon couldn’t hear him. I nodded numbly at him, and he smiled, finally letting his hand drop from my face. My body loosened gratefully at the end of the contact

  “Now!” Ilyan announced, jumping up and clapping his hands together. “The Council has decided that it is worth the risk to go and remove Ryland from within Edmund’s grasp.”

  “What are you saying?” I asked, not daring to hope.

  “That - on the night of his graduation party, we will be going into the mansion and bringing Ryland back with us. We have to get to him before the Vymȁzat completes itself. I know how to stop it, but only before it completes, so that’s the key.” My heart swelled at the renewed hope, my body’s restless energy seeping into me again.

  “But his party is more than three weeks away,” I said in a panic.

  “You are forgetting that you have been healing and unconscious for the past twelve days. We have eight to prepare.”

  “Eight days?” Wyn asked.

  “Yes, which means we have eight days to get Joclyn ready to go and to be able to marginally defend herself. A Vymȁzat is powerful magic, so I need someone who can keep him in his right mind for as long as possible. The strength of Joclyn’s connection with him is unparalleled; meaning, you, Joclyn, are more likely to be able to do that than anyone else.”

  “Me?... go into the mansion...?”

  “Yes, Joclyn. You must be willing to do anything it takes to save him. How far are you willing to go, Silnỳ?”

  I looked up to meet his piercing blue eyes, so full of confidence.

  “I would do anything to save him.” I was shocked at the confidence I suddenly felt. I had never been one to hold my own, to stand up to someone. I had practically hidden from Cynthia McFadden for years. But now, knowing I had a chance to save the one person who was the most important thing to me, my confidence felt more secure.

  “Good,” Ilyan said.

  Eight days. Eight days and I would be back in the mansion I had practically grown up in; a shiver ran up my spine – but not in a good way.

  “But… the mansion, it burned down,” I said, suddenly panicked that we wouldn’t be able to save him after all. “I saw it; the whole third floor was in flames.”

  “I can only assume that much of the damage was repaired or contained magically. Either way, the party will be held in a different part of the estate.”

  “Wait,” Wyn’s voice was loud and panicked from behind Ilyan. “You say you need her to defend herself; you can’t possibly mean you are planning to center her, are you?”

  “That would be the natural choice, yes,” Ilyan responded as he stood.

  “Now?” Wyn said.

  “Yes.”

  “You can’t Ilyan.”

  “Don’t worry so much, Wynifred. Joclyn is a very strong girl, I think she can handle a little bit of centering,” Talon said again.

  “It’s not Jos I’m worried about,” Wyn grumbled behind clenched teeth.

  “What exactly are we talking about?” I interrupted, becoming more and more confused by the minute.

  “He just wants to center her, Wynny.”

  “What’s centering,” I tried again, hoping this time to get an answer.

  “Right now your magic is spread all over your body,” Ilyan provided. “It’s hiding in your muscle tissue and in your blood stream. When we center magic, we collect it all and bring it to one central place, making it usable. Right now you can’t use your magic because it’s spread out. It’s been spread out for so long it doesn’t really know where it’s supposed to be; so for you, it will probably hurt much more than it’s supposed to.”

  “Great, more pain,” I moaned.

  “Not that much pain,” Talon provided with a smile. “So no reason to worry, right Wynifred?”

  “I told you, I am not worried about her. I am worried about Ryland.”

  “Ryland?”

  “Ryland?” Talon echoed me. “What does he have to do with any of this?”

  “Joclyn and Ryland have undergone the beginnings of a Zȇlství , Talon.” Wyn provided gravely, Talons jaw dropped. “If he is as weak as I am thinking, then centering her might well kill him.”

  “No!” I stood in alarm but my legs almost instantly gave out and I tumbled back down to the chair. Ilyan was at my side in a moment, his warm magic plunging into me.

  “It’s all right, Joclyn. We are not going to hurt, Ryland.”

  “But, Wyn said...”

  “I think I have found a way around that,” Ilyan interrupted me.

  “How?” Wyn demanded angrily.

  “We will use the drevo.”

  “Again?” Wyn exclaimed. “So soon? What if the magic rejects her?”

  “I don’t think it will.”

  “But what if it does?”

  “Wynifred.” Ilyan ended their conversation with one word. “Please go draw a bath.”

  “I can’t use the tub in her room, Ilyan; it hasn’t been cleaned I...”

  “You can use mine, Wynifred.”

  “Yes, My Lord.” Wyn curtseyed and exited. Talon followed her but not without clapping Ilyan hard on the back. Ilyan flinched before turning back to me.

  “A bath? The same as before?” I asked, once the door closed behind them.

  “Yes, so please, try not to fight us this time.”

  Ilyan helped me to stand and guided me out the door and down the hall, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other holding tightly to my hand. I was grateful for the extra help, no matter how uncomfortable his proximity made me. The small amount of walking to and from Wyn’s rooms had winded me more than I would have thought.

  We turned into the cream-colored hallway, Ilyan nodding to what I now assumed to be a guard.

  “You will be staying with me in my corridor for the time being. I would like to have you close, just in case anything happens.” He smiled at me. I tried to return it, but couldn’t. Being so close, and having someone want me so close, was uncomfortable.

  “This room is yours,” he nodded solemnly to the door to the left. “And don’t worry, we will strip it of brown and orange by morning. This room here,” he nodded to the door directly across the hall, “is Ovailia’s. I would say to stay out of her way, but you will find that to be an impossibility soon enough.” He said and I got the distinct impression that his sister was more of a bother than I had originally thought. We came to the end of the hall which housed three different doors; one directly in front of us and two at either side.

  “These doors here all belong to me, irritatingly enough, and you are welcome any time.” His hand fanned across my back as he led me through the door directly in front of us. I drew into myself at his touch; I don’t know why it made me so uncomfortable. Ilyan had found me, saved my life; but in some weird way it felt disrespectful to Ryland to even let him touch me.

  The room
had been decorated in much the same way as the hall, with cream walls and cream carpet. Tucked into the corner, next to a window, was a giant bed with a white bedstead and white comforters, a large squishy divan nestled up against it. The room was so white and airy, even with the dark light of evening it still felt comforting.

  I could hear the sound of water running from one of the side rooms; the burning wood and mint smell stronger than I remembered. My body tensed-up, the memory of being held underwater still strong and terrifying. Ilyan rubbed my back comfortingly as he led me to the bathroom.

  The bathroom was only just smaller than the entire brown and orange room, the walls and floor covered in a white tile that brilliantly reflected the light from a large crystal chandelier that hung from the center of the ceiling. Wyn was swirling dark blue water around in a huge claw-footed tub, the color fading the more she moved the water. A small hand-carved wooden box sat open on a marble sink top revealing the contents of what looked like chunks of dirt, weeds and bark.

  “What is that?” I asked, my mouth going dry.

  “It is the drevo. It is a mixture of bark of the Pristỳat tree, dirt that comes from the standing stones in Scotland, and the leaves of a Vzkrí,” Ilyan explained.

  I nodded, “I am just going to pretend I know anything of what you just said.”

  “The combination, along with the water, creates an amazing healing property. It can heal and repair anything.”

  “Even broken backs?” I asked with a smile.

  “Even broken backs. But, it does more than that; it also cleanses your soul.”

  “Why...” I tried again, “How is this going to work?”

  “The hope,” Ilyan began, “is that the healing magic, the drevo, will bypass you and pass directly to Ryland so that we can center your magic without harming him. And, if we are extraordinarily lucky, it will heal him as well; which may make the difference in how strong we find him to be in a week.”

  I nodded and stared between the now crystal-clear water and the box of mud. I had to do this; it would be gross, but I had to - for Ryland; it was becoming my mantra.

  Ilyan left and allowed me some time to undress and wrap up in a towel. I felt odd standing in the middle of this gorgeous bathroom in only a towel. I took a deep breath and moved my head forward, allowing my hair to fall around my face.

  “I can do this,” I sighed to myself.

  “Yes, Jos, you can. You ready?” Wyn said.

  She stood by the tub offering me a hand. I took it shakily and stepped into the incredibly warm water. I let the towel glue itself to me as I sank down into the warmth, thankful for some semblance of modesty.

  The water felt just as thick as I vaguely remembered, like stepping into a vat of warm hair gel, but without the stick. I sighed and closed my eyes as I leaned against the side of the tub, feeling the warmth move into me. A moment later Ilyan returned.

  “How is it going?”

  “The water seems to have accepted her; so far, so good.”

  “Joclyn,” I opened my eyes to look at him. “I don’t know how this is going to work, but if it opens up another connection, another Tȍuha, between you and Ryland, you can’t let him touch you, okay?”

  “Why not?” I asked, suddenly worried.

  “If his father breaks in when you are in contact during a shared consciousness he could use your magical connection to track you down. He could follow the pull of your newly-awakened powers to find you. A connection like that could put everything in danger. Do you understand?”

  I nodded my head before leaning against the tub and closing my eyes.

  “Open your mouth.”

  I obeyed but didn’t look as Wyn placed the bitter, gritty drevo on my tongue again. I closed my jaw around it tightly, fighting against the reflex to spit it out.

  “Ready?”

  “MmmmHmmm.” I felt Ilyan’s wide hand lay flat against my collar bone.

  The warmth of his magic swam into me, the heat stretching to every corner of my body. It stayed there, comfortably, before his hand moved me under the water. I fought the temptation to gulp in air as he pushed me under. The warmth of his magic gained in intensity as I lay there, under the water, my lungs beginning to protest the lack of oxygen.

  Ilyan’s magic continued to increase until it grew into a pain, my lungs adding their own throbbing in their panic for air. My eyes snapped open again just as I was about to pass out. But I didn’t see Ilyan and Wyn.

  I saw Ryland’s bedroom, I saw Edmund sharpening a knife, and I saw a lot of blood.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I saw only a flash of the bedroom before I was dragged into the white space again. I stood frozen in the middle of the large room, not daring to move. My hands flexed at my sides, every part of me on high alert. I heard a scuffle and a whimper, followed by a pained sob. I spun around at the sound, my heart plunging to see Ryland curled up in a ball on the floor, his body naked except for a pair of boxer shorts.

  His hands gripped his curly hair tightly, his knees pulled up to his chest. He sobbed as his body writhed. I ran to him, but as I got closer I couldn’t help but think that something was off about him. Just seeing him curled in a ball on the ground, he looked smaller, leaner, less muscular. I had almost reached him when I stopped short; remembering that I couldn’t touch him. He cried out in agony again, before reverting to his tortured ball.

  “Ryland!” I called out, lifting my voice above his screams.

  “Stay away!” he yelled, his voice panicked and high pitched. “Don’t hurt me! I can’t take any more.”

  I gaped at him, his body looked completely fine. Everything was smooth and perfect. Except for his boxers. I looked at what were obviously blood stains, some of the pools of red still wet and glistening.

  Edmund, sharpening a knife.

  My heart caught and sputtered, my stomach threatening to turn out its contents. What had Edmund done to his son? Ovailia had said I could see how he really looked by seeing with my mind and not my heart, but when looking at the wet pools of blood, I wasn’t sure I wanted to see.

  “Ryland,” I kept my voice even.

  “Don’t hurt me!” He curled himself into an even tighter ball, his joints turning white from the tension.

  “I am not going to hurt you, I promise.”

  “You will hurt me! Everyone always hurts me!”

  “I won’t hurt you. I want to keep you safe.”

  His whimpering and terror lessoned, but his body stayed wrapped in a ball.

  “Everyone hurts me,” he repeated, but his voice wasn’t as terrified.

  “I won’t; I promise.”

  His body unwound from within itself, and he moved his hands from in front of his face to peek out at me. His blue eyes pierced me from behind dark lashes. He removed his hands all the way, looking at me from the ground where he lay. I tried my best to stifle a sob. The boy that lay on the ground was definitely Ryland, but not the Ryland I had shared a cheeseburger with, not the Ryland I last saw. I looked into the face of a much younger Ryland, a Ryland who I stole cars with and snuck into his parent’s pool in the middle of the night. He couldn’t have been older than 16. He looked at me in confusion, the lack of recognition evident on his face. My heart plummeted.

  “Who are you?” he asked, his voice catching in between tears.

  “Joclyn,” I answered honestly. “Don’t you remember me?”

  “Joclyn?” His face screwed up in fear. “You’re too old to be Joclyn.”

  I guess he was right; if he was sixteen, he’d remember me at about thirteen.

  “It’s me, Ryland, I promise. I just look a little different.” I gave him a little smile and his body relaxed a little more.

  “How do I know it’s you?”

  “Do you remember when I was ten and we stole the car? Or when I was eleven and we snuck into the swimming pool, and you tried to do a flip and split your head open on the diving board?” His body began to relax with each memory I shared, so I kep
t going. “Or how about when we first met and you said that my eyes...”

  “Looked like diamonds,” he finished for me.

  “Yeah.”

  “So, it’s really you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And, you’re not going to hurt me?”

  “Never.”

  He unwound himself from off the white floor and sat up, looking around with wide eyes.

  “Where are we?”

  I followed his gaze, wondering how to answer him; I wasn’t sure what to say or how to handle this. Ilyan hadn’t mentioned anything about lost age to me.

  “A special place only we can be...”

  “Where no one can hurt me?”

  “You’re safe with me.” I sat down near him, but far enough away I wouldn’t be tempted to touch him. He looked at me skeptically for a minute before sliding his legs around and bringing his knees to his chest; the movement left a giant smear of blood behind on the ground. I couldn’t take my eyes from it.

  “Why do you look so old?”

  I forced myself to look away from the blood and focus on his face.

  “Magic,” I stated simply. I felt like I was walking on eggshells trying to figure out what to say. But, at sixteen he would know everything, so much more then I even knew now.

  “Magic? What magic?” His voice gave him away. I knew him far too well to know when he was covering something up.

  “You told me about the magic, Ryland. You told me about your kiss.” I had apparently chosen to say the wrong thing to say because he instantly began to panic, his arm flinging around to cover the mark on his shoulder.

  “What kiss? I have no kiss; he took it away from me!” His voice was high and screechy again, the panic ricocheted off the white walls.

  “The kiss, Ryland. The mark on your shoulder. You showed it to me...” I tried in vain to keep my voice even but I knew it didn’t work.

  “He took it away from me!” Ryland screamed again like he hadn’t even heard me. “He called me unworthy! I’m unworthy to bare the kiss. See. See! It’s gone. All Gone!”

  Ryland removed his hand from his back and shoved it toward me, the fingers stretched out in manic desperation. I looked at the hand, at first seeing nothing but white calloused skin until it began to fade and change. I felt the change in me as my heartrate increased; my vision shifted and the fingers were no longer white and beautiful; they were covered in blood. My mouth dropped in a panic as I looked at the smears of dark red.