Crown of Cinders (Imdalind Series Book 7) (18 page)

He was a good, useful soldier. I reconsidered sending him to his death, but then I saw the image of his head rolling across the sand right alongside his friends, and I sighed. The image was so beautiful I couldn’t possibly part with it.

“Your future is set, your path true, and glory will follow you until your last breath, your days filled with regality, with accomplishments.” My eyes snapped back to green as the last of the false words left my lips.

The man still heaved before me as he fought the need to scream.

“Damek. Now.” I didn’t need to tell him twice before he tore from the room, whimpering in a desperate attempt to keep his cries at bay.

Joy pressed against my skin as he left, my magic vibrating within me in anticipation. I couldn’t keep the wicked smile from my face.

The door closed with a snap, and my focus slammed back to Alojz, the once defiant man jerking with power.

I said nothing. I simply lifted my hands in expectation, my request clear, my eyes hard in a warning he could not ignore.

His eyes were hard as he stepped forward, placing his hand in mine without hesitation. Then he hissed in pain as the residual water in my palm pressed against his skin.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” I hissed, clamping my hand around his as my magic began to move into him, twisting inside him and freezing him in place. “It’s a beautiful burn … Black Water. It gives me life, gives me sight, and hurts anyone weaker than me. Burns my enemies.”

Tightening my hand around his, I lifted the pouch above his hand, letting it hover as I looked at him, drinking in the fear in his eyes as if it were a fine wine.

“I know what you are asking,” I whispered, now so close to him I didn’t have to raise my voice to be heard.

“Wh-what … am I asking? I don’t understand.” He could barely get the words out past the pain.

I narrowed my eyes at him, the silent warning hitting him square in the chest.

“My … my king.”

At least he was catching on quickly.

“Your perceived cleverness is thinly veiled. Even without my magic, it is as translucent as a windowpane. You have been a curious little beast, asking everyone you can about the magic of a Drak. About what we are, about what I am. About what I can do. Testing my abilities with pathetic little attacks.”

His eyes widened as I smiled, his fear adding to my joy.

With the tiniest flick of my wrist, I let another drop fall onto his palm, the burn hissing beyond the silence before his scream rent the air.

He twisted and contorted his arm in an attempt to move away from my grip around his hand, only to realize I had frozen him in place, his body and magic ice and steel.

“Shall I tell you what I really saw when I peered into your friends’ realities? Shall I tell you of the secret meetings held in old closets and the attempts to overthrow me?”

Alojz’s eyes widened with each word, his jaw snapping shut in an attempt to keep the scream hidden. His last whisper of pride quickly disappeared.

“Shields, barriers—any magic you throw my way cannot block my sight,” I hissed, stepping toward him as saliva sprayed over his face, my anger dripping from me. “I see everything.” I paused. “Shall we see what you show me?”

Another shriek ripped from him before the water even hit his hand. This time, I poured a waterfall over his palm, over his arm, dripping it over his face and neck.

The skin smoldered as it burned, the flesh melting away. Sight developed stronger within me, dancing to the sound of his screams. My eyes plunged into sights’s ember burn as I took control.

My magic swarmed the room, pressing against every wall, every bone, every rock. I felt them all. I memorized them. And then I controlled them.

The same way the sight of my kind projected onto Black Water, the magical surface shimmering with sight so those who sought council could see, I projected the sight into the room surrounding us, the true form of my restricted magic flying free.

From smoke and ash, the haunted imagery of the coming opening of the pits began to form. The high seats of the stadium surrounded us, the images distorted like looking through water, but clear enough that, with one strangled gasp from my captive, I was confident he was questioning the reality before him.

Together, we stood in the center of the pits, a few battered Chosen wrestling in the blood-soaked mud as the packed house exploded in screams and cheers. The volume was so loud it pounded within my head like a bass drum.

The black of my eyes stared at him as both the prescience and the room around us played in perfect tandem. Ghostly images of his conspirators walked past us, their eyes full of hope for success as they prepared to begin the coup I had seen again and again.

Alojz watched them, confusion settling in beside his fear as the scene played out.

One move from Georg caused the crowd to rise up as one, the assumed success of the coup seemingly imminent.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I sneered as the black drifted from my eyes; albeit, the apparitions surrounding us remained, the scene continuing to play out as the battle rent the stadium apart, blood spilling as those loyal to Edmund began to kill my followers mercilessly, the screams of enjoyment turning to those of fear and death. “Although, it is odd how subjective it all is.”

With those few words, the scene that surrounded us froze in place, blood freezing in the air as it fell around us like rain, the wide open scream of a woman stitched into memory as it paused.

Alojz’s fear grew as his vision followed mine, the panic in his eyes drowning him.

“Isn’t it odd how part of the story can be construed as the whole?” I smiled at him as the vision began to move in reverse, blood rising into the heavens, a scream sucked back into a throat, his friends stalking back toward us, translucent images that moved around us, amongst us, back to where it all had begun. “A reverse usually whispers of warning and certainty. It’s a sign of importance within sight.”

Once again, the images froze around us, the two Chosen awkwardly posed as they fought; the crowds tarried in cheers. Bronislav and Georg flanked the restrained Alojz, their eyes eager as they spotted the man they were positive they were going to kill before they looked up into the stands toward me.

“But this time, a reverse means something different.” I smiled.

Alojz’s focus pulled away from the shadowed images of his friends to me, his eyes widening as they began to move.

“It means I lied.”

Eyes fading to black, the scene we were trapped in continued forward. The Trpaslíks stalking to begin the coup, their laugh a hollow sound as my magic brought everything to life, as the battle began again and the blood began to spill.

This time, it was not the blood of my loyalists as Alojz had assumed. It was the blood of the Trpaslíks. It was my laugh that echoed around the stadium.

They were losing. There was no way it could be another way. It was a realization that shone clearly within their expressions.

If only they had not been raised to be the defiant Trpaslíks they were, if only they had a need for self-preservation above that of killing their enemies, their bloodlust making it impossible for them to see.

So they fought, they bled, and they screamed.

Magic flew uselessly around them until, one by one, they fell. Lifeless bodies heaped over rubble and carnage, while my stoic figure still stood in the high box of the stadium, not so much as a scratch covering my body.

I froze the image there, letting it fade away, leaving the three headless corpses on the stone floor and allowing the wide, frightened eyes of the tiny man before me take them in.

“Did you really think you could defeat a Drak? Did you really think that your silly little games would be enough to defeat me?”

Alojz’s focus snapped back to me, the dark pupils of his eyes shaking in fear.

“Your friends will be punished for their wrongdoing. Whether they sense the punishment or not, whether they sense the betrayal, they will fall.”

I stepped away from him then, walking across the hall and amidst the shadows of his friends. The magic dissolved back into stone at my touch, leaving us standing in the hall once again. Alojz still stood frozen beneath my ever-present magic.

“As will you. But I don’t think you are going to get away so easily …”

A deep sound ground from the man’s throat. The desperate attempt to speak, to plead, to beg ripped from him, blocked by the black water burn that plagued him.

“I’m sorry. What was that?” I asked with a laugh, the sound a gleeful bell that rang over the stone. “It must be something important if you are trying to talk through the pain. Come again?”

“What …? What … are you g-going …?” he asked, his voice barely able to rise above a whisper due to the control I still had over him.

“What am I going to do to you?” I filled in the blanks, another laugh following behind.

I released all of my magic from him, sending him to ground in a heap.

“That’s quite simple, really. I am going to rip you apart limb from limb and make you bleed. Then I am going to let everyone scream at the sight of you. I am going to destroy you all.”

I
didn’t have
much time. I urged myself on as I rummaged through the drawers of an old bureau in the king’s suite. Rolls of socks and T-shirts were thrown in so haphazardly it looked like little more than a laundry hamper.

Sain had gone to trap the traitors and left me here with strict instructions not to leave, something I didn’t take to very kindly.

Instructions. Demands. I was used to following orders, yes. My entire life had been spent following orders. I strived to serve, to protect. Not to wait around in dark rooms.

Not to hide, cowering in the shadows like I couldn’t hold my own. As if I couldn’t kill on command or take down an entire coup single-handedly; or couldn’t single-handedly put out a pekelný.

I had days ago while Sain had been trapped in some sight. I had put out the flames that dozens around me couldn’t even make a dent in. I had devoured some of the strongest magic.

All while hundreds had watched.

Hundreds of Chosen and Trpaslíks who had approached me in the shadows had passed scraps of parchment bearing the same few words.

You should rule.

Me, not him. Not the filthy man who refused to see what I had accomplished. Refused to use me as the asset, as the strength that I was.

He didn’t trust me, and that was what bothered me. After everything I had done for him, after everything I had proved, he continued to treat me like a child, like a liability.

A danger.

Maybe I was. I surely didn’t trust him. I hadn’t for thousands of years. I had followed him weeks ago because of the power I had seen in him, the strength he had kept hidden from me a devilish secret I couldn’t wait to indulge in.

Like chocolate and wine.

However, I hadn’t noticed how the chocolate was moldy and the wine was rancid.

I hadn’t noticed how the strength I had lusted after, that my magic had trouble controlling itself around, was cracked by madness.

Something he had made clear.

“
Something a child could accomplish
,” I growled to myself, the hatred I felt toward him rotting the words.

I hated him. I had hated him from the moment I had bonded with him. I had hated him when he had died. And I had hated him more when my father had found him very much alive.

“I have to find that blade,” I said to myself, my voice crisp. “I have to destroy him.”

Looking up from the messy drawer at the old mirror that hung above the bureau, I pursed my lips. The ice in my eyes stared back at me. I was as beautiful as ever.

Smiling at the beauty, at the power in my eyes, I could already see myself plunging that blade into his heart, the same way he had my father. I could already see my magic surging past it as I absorbed his magic and trapped his soul.

“Now, it’s my turn.” Shuddering in eager pleasure, I pulled myself away from my reflection, my hair falling over the side of my face like a sheet as I turned from the bureau to move toward an old trunk that stood at the foot of our bed.

No,
his
bed.

The bed, the room, the belongings—he had taken them all from my father, from Ilyan. The bloodstains on the carpet were a twisted sign of ownership. Like a dog who pisses on the wall, Sain left trails of blood behind him.

He needed to be fixed.

My shouldered stiffened, my lips pursing in anger as I searched with a deeper desperation, ignoring my hair as it fell over my face.

My heels clicked as I moved to the massive hand-carved wardrobe. I knew it had to be in this room somewhere. There wasn’t anywhere else he would hide it. I didn’t think there was anywhere else he could. I knew it wasn’t on him, and he didn’t trust …

He didn’t trust me. So why would he put it somewhere I could find it? Why would he put it somewhere that wasn’t secured in some way?

Eyes drifting out of focus, I froze, hovering over the drawer. The smell of my shampoo was strong in the air as my mind took me right back to when we had first moved into this room a few weeks ago, to him hovering in front a wide stretch of stone, stone that wasn’t quite right.

His magic hadn’t been quite right.

I gasped in shock, the sound of my discovery followed by an intake of another kind, one that wasn’t an echo.

I straightened, turning on the spot as I shut the heavy door with my hip, the loud smack of the ancient wood clamping shut, echoing beyond the still of the room.

I had thought I had heard something—some sound, some whisper of magic—but no one was here. No one except me, a prisoner locked in a glass box.

Eyes narrowing, I turned back to the dresser, my magic on high-alert as it infiltrated the room, searching for some sign of magic, of some concealed army.

There was nothing.

I had never been able to sense magic like my brother did, a skill that would have come in handy in times like this.

I let my magic wrap around me, strong ribbons bound around me like a shield. One short glance up at the mirror to verify I was gone from sight and I moved out of the room, toward the large bathroom attached to the suite. My magic lifted me above the ground enough that my heels against the stone could not be heard.

No sound, nothing other than the tiniest flutter of a breeze.

I wasn’t foolish enough to think that, because I didn’t see anyone, no one was there. You couldn’t see me at the moment, either. Just like I couldn’t see Sain, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t watching my every move.

The thought moved up my spine in a slither of ice, a slow snake that shivered within me no matter how hard I tried to stop the disgusting convulsion.

Pathetic, disgusting emotion. I had better things to focus on.

With a roll of my eyes, I escaped into the lavatory in silence. The room was exactly as it had been built centuries before, all except for the addition of the toilet. Even that was archaic, having been installed in the 1920s, a pull string for flushing and all.

Yellow polka dot heels appeared out of nowhere as I slipped them off my feet, letting them sit in the middle of the floor as if I had just stepped out of the tub.

Restraining a hiss, I placed my bare soles against the icy tile of the mosaic floor and then ran past the large inset stone tub, attempting not to think of how many germs were now attaching themselves to my perfectly manicured feet. Moving past the large closet still full of Ilyan’s council clothes, I guessed neither my father or Sain could part ways with them. They were as old as both their reigns. Funny, considering they would be the first to go if I took control.

When
I did.

I needed to find that blade.

Lips pressed into a hard line, I straightened my back, sweeping unseen amid the museum of clothes, coming face to face with the wall I had seen Sain stand before.

I knew at once the wall was not really there.

My magic jumpstarted with every step I took toward the thing, the shield dropping from around me as my hand drifted into view. Manicured fingers raised before me, shining like drops of blood against the surface of the rock, I hesitated, frightened of what lay behind the stone, of what would happen when I pressed my palm against the rough-hewn edges of stone.

With a gasp and a roar of fear, I pressed my hand against the stone, expecting the chill of the rock, the rough edges of the quarry. Instead, my hand moved through it, my entire arm plunging into ice water as the solid surface I had been expecting swallowed it, my arm disappearing from view.

Gasping from the chill, I stared at the waving line of magic that shimmered around my forearm like a circlet, a delicate embellishment begging me to step into the stone, begging me to find more.

Before I could take a step, the feeling of ice moved up my arm like an infection, a slow slither that crackled in the air in a pressure that pulled me into the void. It was more than the feeling of ice, however; it
was
ice. It glided over my skin in blossoms of crystals that flowered and thickened, holding me in place, freezing right inside of me.

“Sain!” I growled past gritted teeth, shifting as I attempted to pull my arm out of the wall. However, the ice continued to move up my arm, nearing my shoulder.

Each pull that I gave against the ice hold was unyielding, the grip increasing. I was stuck there.

Anger replaced the disgusting fear as I pulled against the ice, my magic building into an immense roar as my anger fanned my blood.

Placing my free hand before the false wall, I let my magic surge, a powerful stream of red light flying through the air to hit against the magical wall with a smack. A bolt of lightning moved over the surface like a web, burning away the façade. For one brief minute, the false wall vanished, revealing the large room behind it and the glistening shard of the Soul’s Blade lying on a countertop in plain view.

“Found you,” I hissed as the wall rebuilt itself.

My mind was still focused on the spot where the blade lay, even though all it was now was the Mírage of uneven gray stone.

It was right there, inches from me. The soul of my father, his magic, ready for me. All I needed to do was take control, and then Sain would be as good as dead.

A wide grin swept over my face, teeth glistening in the muted light of the closet as I lifted my now thawed arm, spreading my fingers wide in preparation to shatter the pathetic attempt of a barrier into a million fragments of magic and ice.

It was nothing more than the pekelný.

Nothing more than what a child could do.

The smile grew as my magic did, charging through me to drain into nothing as a noise sounded clearly behind me.

I turned, knowing that I was no longer alone, only to come face to face with Damek.

His eyes were wide with the same fear he always had, his body shadowed on the other side of the clothes forest.

“I’ve been calling you, my lady,” he simpered, his voice a shriek as he took a step forward, toward the dim ribbon of light that fell from the mirrored skylight between us. The light fell over him in more shadow than gold, making him look distorted and broken.

“You should have kept calling,” I snapped as I turned toward him. The ends of my hair tickled against my back, the sheer fabric of my dark top not enough to completely cover the skin. “What are you doing back here?”

“I have been calling you, my lady,” he repeated, his voice shaking even more as he began to writhe his hands one over another.

I laughed loudly, one loud sound of irritation, as I moved away from the wall that, until a second ago, had been my target. Now I moved toward a new one, the man seeming to break down with every step I took.

The light of the skylight washed over me, warming my skin as it reflected off my hair, making everything glisten.

His eyes widened at the illusion of an angel, and I smiled, the nefarious gleam in my eyes taking away the heaven and replacing it with hell.

He took a step back, still writhing his hands.

“And you assumed you could come back here?” My voice was calm, the storm behind it clear.

I almost expected him to turn tail and run, but he stayed his ground. The muscles in my back tensed as those in my stomach began to writhe with as much panicked urgency as his hands.

He looked at me once, and the sensation continued. However, I kept my face strong, my back straight, and my jaw tight. I felt as fearful as he did right then.

“Did Sain send you?” I asked, my voice strong despite everything else in me shaking, a million panicked questions ripping within my mind.

How long had Damek been standing there?

Had he seen?

Did Sain
see
?

Clenching my teeth, I took another step forward, tapping my fingers against my hip bones as I pressed my palms against my lower back. “Spit it out, Damek.”

The man nodded furiously, taking another step back, as if he were prepared to make a running escape, his eyes darting away from me.

Darting past the closet.

Darting to the wall behind me.

He knew. Whether he saw me or not, he knew something.

My heart fell, each heavy beat painful inside my chest. Still, I didn’t let it show. I smiled, my hands eager to reach out and grab the mongrel before me. To shake the information out of him like one did a dog.

“He’s in the main hall, my lady. He’s waiting for you.” He spit the words out in a torrent, the consonants falling over each other, eager to get out.

Sure enough, the moment they had left him, he turned, stumbling in his desperate escape of me.

He didn’t make it more than a few steps before I grabbed him, my magic wrapping around him as I lifted him into the air, swinging him wide before I slammed him against the opposite wall. Hangers and clothes swung from the impact, the soft thud of flesh against stone melodic.

I slammed him again, bringing him back before me.

His eyes were wide as a small trickle of blood began to seep from his nose.

“Silly man,” I seethed, my words grinding against my teeth like snakes. “Did you really think it would be that easy?”

His eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing mechanically as he gasped for air, as he tried to find words to fit the panic he was drowning in.

“What do you know about this wall?” I jerked my head behind me in explanation.

His eyes widened farther as his shoulders stiffened. He lifted his previously flailing hands to wrap around his neck, the plea obvious even without the words.

Rolling my eyes, I dropped him, wishing I hadn’t left my heels in the bathroom. There was nothing dangerous about walking around a man in bare feet.

“Speak, Damek,” I prompted, moving behind him as I blocked his way out. The clothes that were hung on either side shifted a bit from the movement in the tight space. “What do you know? What did you see?”

“I …” he gasped, his chest heaving as he tried to catch a breath. “I didn’t see anything … but Sain … Sain coming out.”

“When?” I spat, my voice a harsh warning, and the man below me curled into a tight little ball, the fear of a hit evident.

“Just once!” he screamed, his fear making him useless. “Just once. I don’t know … anything. I don’t know anything.”