Crown of Cinders (Imdalind Series Book 7) (13 page)

“Excuse me?” I was concerned that she might have broken, stuck on one point as she was.

“Dramin?” she asked, the use of my name pulling me out of the reverie.

Dread filled me at the sight of the woman who was frozen before me, her eyes staring unfocused into the contents of her mug. For a moment, I thought she was trapped in sight. But no, this was a look of someone trapped in thought.

“Joclyn?”

“The cave … Has Thom ever been inside of Imdalind?”

Narrowing my eyes at her, I racked my brain, trying to think of a time it could have happened, but there was nothing. Ilyan had kept us too well-hidden. It had been too big of a risk to have anyone see us. “No, why?”

“They are all in the cave …” I could barely hear her as she turned away from me, her voice a mumble. “All of them …”

I half-expected her to shout “Eureka!” and plant a flag.

“What are you talking about?”

“Just now … that cave …” she continued as if she hadn’t heard me, her voice broken in weird places. “Where Míra was … Everyone was there.”

Her wide, fearful eyes met mine as she set her mug back down, jumping from the bed with a jolt. Not for the first time, I wondered if I should tell her what I had seen, guilt and regret pressing against me.

“Yes, it’s the same time. Nothing else has changed.” Joclyn began to pace the room, her hand shaking as it ran through the long curls that had come free of her braid. The move made me smile, despite the dread not easing.

“If you don’t give me some kind of clue as to what you are talking about, Joclyn, I may have to report you to your husband.”

She shot me a look, a slight smile kissing the corner of her mouth as she pointed to her head, her meaning clear. She wasn’t talking to me.

The knot of fear that was trying to take up residence in my gut eased a bit, while my irritation increased.

I set my mug down with a little bit more of a bang than I had intended, and we both jumped, Joclyn turning toward me in shock.

At least I had gotten her attention.

“Other people are part of this conversation, my dear,” I said, leaning back against the wall as I folded my hands over my belly. “Although, I hope you will send Ilyan my regards.”

She smiled in full then, rushing back to sit on the side of the bed, hair and ribbons streaming behind her in light and dark that contrasted beautifully in the dim lamp light.

“Sorry, Uncle,” she whispered, taking my hand in hers. “It’s … I just realized Thom is inside of Imdalind. He’s there … with everyone else.”

“This hardly seems to be an
ah-ha
moment,” I sighed, deflating a bit at the anticlimactic revelation.

“Except, the before and after hasn’t changed.”

My heart must have forgotten to stop beating.

“The sights of before are the same …” she continued, “and of after … it’s that … it’s the players.”

“Now I am really not following.”

“There was something Sain said when we battled him in Prague. I don’t think I was ever meant to kill Edmund. I think the sight you had all those years ago was about Sain, not Edmund. I can still save him, Dramin.”

“Which him?” I asked.

Her eager smile faltered a bit before she glued it back in place. She jumped to her feet, rushing to the door without giving me a response. “I have to go … The council is going to start soon, and I need to see Ilyan …” She froze, her hand on the knob.

Mine extended toward her as a weird longing overtook me, the relief from before forgotten.

Joclyn must have felt whatever poison was in the air as I had, for she ran back to me, her arms wide. Her long, spindly limbs wrapped around my neck as she buried her face in my shoulder.

I froze at the contact, my heart bumping painfully in my chest.

She had hugged me before, but something about this was different. It sat on my chest like a lead weight, my own guilt accentuating it, making it hard to breathe.

“I love you, brother,” she gasped, her voice muffled from where she was hiding, making me certain she was trying to hold back tears.

“I love you, too.” The words flowed as my arms wrapped around her, pulling her against me.

One squeeze and she broke free, sitting on the edge of the bed with a broad smile, her silver eyes gleaming. “You are the best brother in the world.”

I didn’t know if she was teasing or being serious, not with the width of the smile on her face. Therefore, I simply chuckled, the sound filling me and lifting the last of the knots that had tightened in my chest.

“That’s better than being your favorite brother.” I chuckled. “Then I would have been very disappointed in my competition.”

She laughed as I did before moving across the room, pausing at the door with the promise to return after the council.

Then it was just me and the invalid.

For the first time in weeks, I was seriously considering yelling his name, perhaps even throwing something heavy on his head … just to see if it would wake him.

I doubted it.

“It’s you and me, kid. Until that kid Míra finds us, anyway.” Grumbling, I lay back, shifting the plethora of pillows into some weird nest shape. I was confident I looked like some weird animal, but it was quite comfortable.

I didn’t know how long I slept, but it was deep and comfortable, tight and warm, like being wrapped up in those same pillows. I got lost in it, lost in laughing with my soul mate, walking hand in hand with her down the long path inside the forest that we always used to visit as our escape. When the kids got to be too much, when the world got to be too loud, we would walk through that forest. Escape the noise, escape the future, and just exist in our own reality, lost in the present.

That was the hardest thing for a Drak: to exist in the present and not get lost in the future or in the past.

This was a past I wanted to get lost in, however. This was a past I missed.

“Your hair is longer, Dramin.” I could feel her touch against the back of my neck, the calluses that always lived on the tips of her fingers rough yet soft.

“I’ve been growing it out.” My voice was younger, the conversation familiar, alerting me to the memory that my mind was pulling into the dreamscape.

It was a good one and one I had relived many times before.

Even beyond the dream, I could feel the calm, feel the love stretch over me, wrap around me, more tightly and more soothing than the pillows.

“I’ve noticed.” Her voice was soft in my ear, and I turned, my heart rate accelerating at the voice of my mate, Galiya.

Her long hair fell to her waist, pulled back in a braid that hung down her back like a rope. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled, and I wished I could touch her face. I wished I could kiss her, but not yet. That would come later.

“But the question is, my darling Dramin, why?”

Even beyond the numbing love I was surrounded by, I could feel the anxiety. I knew I was about to reveal the secret I had been keeping about the king I had seen on the street. I liked his hair.

“Because I …”

“Kiss me quickly.”

The calm of the dream was shattered, my heart beating spastically into a flood as I turned toward Galiya, her eyes no longer safe and playful, but wide and fearful.

I couldn’t move. The softness of the dream had left, drowning me in panic.

Even the softness of her lips against mine couldn’t break it. The kiss was too desperate, too unfamiliar, too fearful.

“Be brave,” Galiya said as she pulled away, her hands on my collarbone as she looked into my eyes, tears welling in hers. “We will be together again soon.”

“The child is coming. You must stop her.”

Those last words did not come from my girl. They came from the air. They came from my soul. They pulled me down, the tension trapping me in the hell the dream had become.

And then it was gone.

The dream was gone.

And all that was left was screaming in the hallway, rocks rumbling above my head, and the sound of a little boy crying.

The sound of blood hitting stone.

Then the door opened.

T
he old man
next to me sounded like a fog horn—well, his breathing did, anyway. Loud, raspy gasps made it sound like someone was plugging his nose.

The sound stretched over the dark like some long-fingered monster who crept between the beds, touching the hearts of the sleeping Chosen and releasing their souls into the air. Whispers of souls that floated through the morning sun now seeping past the heavy drapes, catching in the beams like glitter before they were devoured by the raspy breath, inhaled with a gasp.

Wheeze, gasp, wheeze, gasp
… He took another one.

And another.

I jerked, the image becoming too real, and turned toward where Risha stood by the door, guarding us. Even though she was ominous, it was better than the monster that was stalking me. The bed springs creaked and rubbed that dumb kiss thing on my cheek. It itched if I laid on it too long. I guessed I had.

’Course, it wouldn’t bug me at all if I could sleep, which was something that was not happening.

I wished I could sleep. If I were sleeping, I could at least ignore everything, like the alien-abducted monster my sister was and Ryland’s war that was way too real and creepy. I could even ignore that there was such a person as Edmund Krul. That evil man had messed up everything.

I hadn’t even met him, and I hated him. He had destroyed everything: my sister, my best friends, my family, my home.

Thinking about him made me all angry and jittery, like mice were running along my spine.

Exhaling as loudly as the old man, I shifted again, rolling back toward where Míra slept. The bed springs screamed, exactly as they did every time I had rolled over tonight.

I stared at the creepy hospital hall that had been dark until a few minutes ago when the sun had started to rise, sending weird prison stripes of light over everything.

Maybe I was in a prison. A prison with monsters and unknown sisters.

Could be.

“Jaromir,” Míra hissed through the dark, matching the rhythm of the monster who still crept around the beds so perfectly that I jumped, unable to control the reflex.

I knew what was coming, knew what she would ask. She had been trying to convince me all week. And after today, I was pretty convinced our time was up.

“Do you remember that time we went to Russia?”

I could barely hear her, but she was so calm, so quiet I was sure this wasn’t it. The knot that was attacking my stomach calmed down. I hoped I still had time.

“When we went to visit Uncle Yagi that last time before he died?” The knot was back to the same tense ball of fear. Of all the memories she could have picked …

“Yes.”

I didn’t like where this was going.

Uncle Yagi had suffered from cancer, a really scary one. I don’t remember what kind. It was too long ago; we were, like, five or something. He had everyone come to visit him … and then he did something, something bad. I didn’t want to talk about it right now.

Especially in the dark.

Especially with the creepy way that man’s breath kept echoing around us. I guessed it was good we were talking in code. I didn’t even know if we were allowed to talk, I was surprised Risha hadn’t told us to be quiet yet.

“Do you remember how he was when we first got there? How Mom thought he was dead?”

I
really
didn’t like where this was going.

I nodded, positive she couldn’t see it in the dark.

“I remember,” I finally got out as I tried to swallow past the constriction in my throat. “He didn’t move, and his skin was so pale. His lips were blue.”

I could barely breathe, let alone talk, but I tried, anyway.

“What are you talking about, Míra?”

“I’m talking about Uncle Yagi,” she hissed, the calm in her voice zapped away.

The tight ball in my stomach came back. I was worried I might throw up.

“I’m talking about how, after he died and Aunt Zora came to live with us, she was happy because Yagi was happy. And everyone else went on living. Everyone always goes on living after someone dies.”

“Míra?” My heart hurt.

“Your friends will go on living, too,” she continued, turning to look at me with wide eyes so white they were round saucers in the dawn, swallowing up all the light.

I gasped, wishing I could move away, wishing I could run away from her, away from her eyes that were swallowing me up.

“Ilyan, Ryland, Risha, even that Wynifred girl who doesn’t like me much—they will all go on living,” she whispered, leaning over the bed to get closer to me. The width of her eyes grew.

I tried to move away, but I was frozen in place, trapped between the monster that continued to breathe behind me and the girl who stared at me.

“Are you sure you can save them?”

“I told you I could. It’s the only way I can,” she snapped so loudly I was convinced someone had heard, but everything was quiet, everything except that monster that was probably standing right over me, breathing in my ear.

For all I knew, she had put us in a bubble or something. Ryland had talked about that once. I didn’t know how to do it yet.

Knowing that no one could hear us made me feel more trapped.

“You have to help me, Jaromir.”

“Help you kill that man?” I could barely get the words out. I knew this was wrong. She should know this was wrong.

“Yes. Then I can go back to Edmund, tell him it’s done. I can convince him—”

“You would leave?”

“I have to, Jaromir.”

“Can I come with you?”

Everything hurt. I didn’t want her to leave. I didn’t want any of this.

My heart pressed against my skin like it was trying to get over to her, desperate for her to stay or for me to go with her.

“I can help you defeat Edmund.”

“No!” Her voice, even louder than mine, echoed around the long hall. Still, no one stirred. No one moved. The world was frozen like in some fairy tale, and we were the lone ones alive. “You can’t come. He will hurt you. You need to stay here. I need to save you, too. I have to, Jaromir.” Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she sat, letting them dangle in the dark. “Will you help me?”

I didn’t dare move. I didn’t dare speak. I sat stiffly, watching her feet swing, listening to the bed creak under the movement.

The creak, the breath of the man—they moved together, sucking the souls out of everyone around us. The creak became a troll that shuffled under the beds, following the demon and pulling the corpses out by their toenails.

But it was just Míra swinging her legs from where she sat.

Swinging her legs.

Swinging.

Swinging as we sat in the dark. Swinging as the question hung in the air.

Swinging as the knot in my stomach continued to expand, my mind twisting our already frightening reality into something much more terrifying.

“You want me to still save all of your friends, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“Then this is what we have to do. I’ve tried to find another way, Jaromir. This is it. I like them, too. I want them to win. I can help them, but we need …” Her voice caught, and for a second, I was sure she was crying, sure that the alien that had taken over her body was gone. “I need to do this. I need you to help me, and I can save everyone else here. I promise.”

“Are you going to kill him?” My throat seemed too full of something.

Fear.

Or vomit.

Or both.

I could barely talk.

“Yes, Jaromir. But then everyone else is safe. He’s dead already, anyway.”

“He’s already dead?” I asked, leaning toward her in a panic, barely catching myself before I fell out of the bed. “What are you talking about?
Who
are you talking about?”

Míra was silent. The dark was silent. The hall was silent except for the creak of her bed as she swung her legs back and forth, her eyes still trained on me.

“Who is it?” I asked again, hoping she would finally answer. My heart continued beating so fast it hurt. I didn’t want to hear who it was.

“I told you. A dead man.”

“You saw a dead man?”

She nodded, her lips a hard line as she leaned over the bed closer to me, her nose inches from mine, the width of her eyes growing. “I haven’t seen him, but I know he’s here in a bed, like all of them. Except, they keep him locked up like they are trying to keep him hidden. I’m not sure if he’s alive. He just lies there, and he sleeps. His hair is in cords like the wires that ran to Uncle Yogi’s chest.”

I knew at once whom she was talking about, and I swallowed, the movement painful thanks to my still constricted throat.

“How did you find him?” I hadn’t even seen him, though I knew where he was, who he was. I knew everything about this place, like how you weren’t allowed to go over there. “That’s off limits.”

Her smirk killed the glow in her eyes, the last shred of familiarity in my sister vanishing. “I told you. I haven’t found him, but I know he’s there. I know what he looks like. An old man showed me. I need you to take me to him.” She waved her hand to the side. “I need to finish this so everyone else can live.”

“I can’t. It’s off limits.”

“You have too many rules,” she snapped, cutting off my rebuttal like a razor blade. “Don’t leave the infirmary. Don’t talk to the Skȓíteks without permission.”

“That’s so that—”

“Don’t look at that blond guy if you want to live.”

“Ilyan’s nice. You just have to—”

“Don’t eat meat.”

“They just don’t—”

“Don’t yell at the nurses.”

“You shouldn’t be yelling at anyone, Míra. It’s not nice.”

“Take me to him.” The command was loud and booming, and it moved inside of me like a wave on the beach. It swept me up and made it hard to breathe.

I couldn’t ignore it. After all, I had already made my decision.

I had to save them … all of them.

And if the “dead man” was the key to that …

He was already dead like Míra had said …wasn’t he?

“How do we get past Risha?” My stomach twisted painfully, not wanting to think about what I was agreeing to. “Can you do it without hurting her?”

“I won’t kill her if that’s what you are asking.”

“No, Míra, you can’t hurt her.”

“Stay here, Jaromir. Don’t get in my way.”

“You can’t hurt her, Míra.”

Míra didn’t respond. She merely jumped to her feet, walking away from our tiny cluster of beds with her head held high.

“Hey there, Míra,” Risha responded, the yawn in her voice making it clear she was struggling to stay awake. “It’s not quite time to wake up, kiddo.”

Míra was silent except for the sound of her feet against the cold floor.

My spine hurt, all pressurized with fear, and I jerked, pulling the covers around me, trying to get lost in them. Hoping I would disappear in them. I didn’t want to see what was coming.

“You aren’t supposed to be out of bed, Míra. You know better.”

“I need to go to the bathroom.” Míra was obviously lying. She didn’t try to make it sound like she was being truthful at all. Her voice was dead, as dead as the aliens. As dead as the old man who was sucking souls. As dead as I was becoming.

“Míra, I need you to get back in bed,” Risha responded, her voice shaking in fear. Odd. I didn’t think she could get scared.

But she was.

She was terrified.

It washed over me, shaking up my spine.

The old man moved closer, his long fingers reaching forward, ready to pull my soul out of my chest.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Míra repeated, the same dead girl speaking as she stepped toward Risha.

“Get back in bed!” Risha’s yell mixed with the rattle of iron and metal that echoed around the room as she hit what I was positive was a bed stand, trying to get away from the little girl who kept moving closer.

I could see it in my head, my magic pushing the images into me. I didn’t want to see. I didn’t want to hear.

Clamping my hands over my ears and clenching my eyes shut as tightly as I could, I curled into myself, trying not to hear Risha call out in fear, trying not to hear my sister’s laugh. Trying not to see the way the room erupted in fireworks of color right above our heads.

The noise of magic and the lights had always been beautiful to me. Now, I hated them.

I wasn’t dumb. I had figured out months ago that Ryland was training everyone for a war, yet I hadn’t understood what that had meant until Míra had shown up with stories of fighting in pits and killing people.

Even then, it hadn’t been real.

Not really.

Not until now, lying here, listening to them fight, listening to Risha beg. Then it became real. It was my mother. My mother screaming as the Vilỳs chased us. The screams as they ripped into her body. Her body as she lay over me, trying to keep me safe. Safe from the Vilỳs that killed her, that marked me. Safe from the bombs that lit up the sky every morning. It was not being able to shower and having to eat gross food.

I didn’t want this.

I didn’t want anything to do with this.

Not anymore.

“Stop. Stop. Stop,” I whimpered amidst the noise, pressing my hands against my ears until they hurt. “Stop. Please. Stop,” I said until it was silent, the words on repeat so fast I wasn’t certain if I was speaking them aloud. I didn’t care if I was. I just wanted it to stop. I wanted it all to stop.

I didn’t want this.

“Come on,” Míra hissed as she pulled the thin blankets off me before yanking my arm and trying to get me to move. “We need to go. Get out of here before someone else shows up. You show me the way, and I’ll make sure no one gets in our way.”

“Míra …” I groaned, tears sliding down my cheeks as I remained curled in a ball, unable to move. “I can’t do this. I can’t—”

“Stop it!” she snapped, her voice sending my knees into my chest. “Don’t be a baby. You said you would help. You want to save your friends, right? This is what we have to do.”

“But, Risha …” I gasped, my heart pushing against my lungs. Everything was spinning. “You hurt her …”

I didn’t want to think about what had happened, what she had done.

“I didn’t kill her.” Míra looked at me like she was trying to be comforting, but her voice was dead. The smear of blood on her cheek scared me as much as her tone. “She will be fine. But we have to move.”