Crown of Cinders (Imdalind Series Book 7) (20 page)

I stood and watched … waiting.

Míra sent another attack as she screamed, tears streaming down her face and mixing with the blood that caked over her skin to create haunting rivers of red that flowed over her cheeks, dripping against her filthy clothes in a pool of heartbreak.

“If I can’t have him, no one ca—”

Her words were cut short by the violent snap of Sain’s magic amongst the dark, a brilliant light burning my eyes as Sain fought back, the girl flying through the air at the impact.

She didn’t even scream. She soared, falling end over end before landing with a solitary thump of flesh against stone.

I cringed at the sound, jerking as the silence of the battle stretched around me.

Damek’s heaving breath was the lone sound. The lone movement … until …

With a slow, haunting chill, Sain began to push himself into a standing position, moving slowly in the dark. The bright spot of red and white fabric was a wad in his fist.

I stepped back in disbelief, my heels clicking once in the silence, and Sain’s eyes flashed to mine, the white bright against the dark. Bright with anger.

“Don’t think I don’t know your true meaning, my dear,” he growled, his voice violent as he stepped back into the dark, his eyes again focused on the girl. “And you said there was no devil in you. I will deal with you later.”

My heart stuttered painfully, and a lump lodged itself in my throat.

I tried to swallow, but everything was blocked by fear, the sensation so unfamiliar it drove the fear further.

“Your brother …” Sain mused, his magic lifting the girl into the air, letting her hang there, twisting aloft like a rag doll.

She could be dead.

My muscles seized at the possibility, but her eyes were alive, the wide orbs staring straight at the old man who held her, fear as clear as mine staring back at me.

“I have seen your brother in my sights. I have seen him laid into the ground, dead and cold, head almost ripped from his shoulders,” Sain said with a laugh. “If he is dead, you were the one to kill him. Did you kill your brother, little girl?”

Her eyes pulled wider, her jaw moving as she attempted to work the words out.

“You were supposed to die, little girl. But it seems that Edmund’s magic still lives inside of you, which suits me fine. The more power I can absorb, the better.”

Damek and I exchanged looks at Sain’s admission. His shock seeped across the air so heavily I was in no doubt he was about to attack Sain. I was one step behind him. If Edmund’s magic was alive, if it was alive in this little girl …

Sain’s malicious laugh pulled me away from my hope as his magic shot like lightning through the air and right into the little girl.

She screamed as the current moved into her body, screamed as the demon of a man stepped toward her, his lips extended into a wide, caustic smile.

His smile bore into me, awakening my own need for his magic, for the magic I had coveted for so long.

It should be mine.

The fear faded as my own smile took its place, my magic bristling under my skin with the need for her blood, for that which should be mine.

Sain had gotten there first, however. His own scream echoed hers as his magic began to move into her, ready to rip Edmund’s magic out of the Štít.

Damek fell back, cowering against the stone, pressing himself into it as he tried to move away from the electricity that crackled in the air, everything as bright as day. Even the half-man watched in fear, cowering in his cage.

I, however, stepped forward, my eyes wide in awe as the crackling lights faded, as the screaming stopped and the child fell to the ground in a heap, her skinny limbs twisted awkwardly, unmoving.

“No!” Sain snapped the second she fell. “It’s not there …”

“Sain?” I asked hesitantly, my powerful voice shaking with uncertainty. I wasn’t even sure if I had heard what he had said. I couldn’t look away from the child.

“How could it not be there …”

The admission pulled me from my horror, the tension in my jaw increasing as I turned toward the man who looked at me with unabashed malice.

“Edmund’s magic isn’t there?” I questioned.

He rounded on me, kicking the girl once before he rushed to my side.

Míra didn’t even make a noise at the impact. If she weren’t dead before, she was now.

“No!” Sain yelled in my face. “The Štít isn’t there. Nothing is there.”

I looked at the girl hungrily before Sain’s magic wrapped around me, pulling me toward him with a snap.

“I said it’s not there,” he hissed, saliva spraying over my face. “Don’t think that you can go and find it yourself. I can see what you are thinking, Ovailia, I can see your pathetic greed. I can see your weakness. Leaving the child to attack me. I should rip your magic from your heart right now, leave you as dead and useless as that one.”

He knocked his head toward what was left of Alojz, my heart speeding up as if the thing could tell what he was talking about, its own fear of being stripped of something so precious ripping me apart.

“You couldn’t …” I began. Although strong, I could feel my words falter inside of me. I didn’t dare finish. I knew from the look in his eyes, from what I had seen, that he could.

That he would.

“Don’t try me, Ovailia,” he snapped, pressing himself so close to me I could smell the rancid fish on his breath. “You are as dead and useless as that one. You only have use as long as I deem it. Don’t force me to change my mind.”

I cringed, hair waving down my back as I tried to move away, but his fingers clawed around my forearm, pulling me back.

Damek’s whimpering increased as he continued his attempt to move into the wall, but I didn’t look away from the green eyes of the devil before me.

I didn’t care what he said. He was the devil.

A devil I would destroy. I had to.

“Yes, master,” I said, emphasizing the word and letting it seep into him and soothe his ego. Although, I was confident he could taste the deceitfulness in it.

He smiled, obviously pleased with himself. “Good.” He released my arm, and I teetered on my heels, resisting the urge to rub the pressure out of the skin. “Now take this girl and dispose of her. I have no use for her.”

Sain gave me one more look before he turned and exited, leaving Damek and I standing alone in the hall, surrounded by skeletons.

I looked from the girl who lay lifeless on the floor, to the man, the once powerful servant who was now as oppressed as broken as I. The same death in me as clear as it was in him, I would say he was already dead if it wasn’t for the fire I saw in his eyes. The same one that was alive in me.

“Are you going to play?” Damek asked, all sign of shake gone from his voice.

I stared at him, eyes glancing at the door, at what was left of the child and knew what faced me- the same fate I would find no matter my path, it seemed.

It was blood either way.

I nodded.

F
or months
, the hospital had been full, healing the Chosen and Skȓíteks who were injured on raids. The air had been filled with the smell of plants and salves and tea. Now the injured had been cleared out to make room for the dead and dying.

The beds were covered with white sheets, the air saturated with the overwhelming scent of blood.

This is a familiar scent for you, isn’t it, son?

Blood was everywhere, staining the floor and dripping from sheets. It covered my chest and hands, infecting my clothes and drying the cotton against my skin in a rigid cast. It dripped from my sagging curls and down my face, mixing with the silent tears that wouldn’t stop.

I didn’t even try to clean the blood, just as I didn’t try to stop the tears.

You should.

Are you so weak you would cry like this?

Ignoring the voice, I squeezed the tiny hand that was clutched in mine, expecting to feel the tiny pressure of his.

There was nothing. The fingers were cold and rigid beneath mine. Jaromir was already gone, a gray sheen painted over his skin, his lips and eyelids a haunted shade of blue.

I stood beside him, staring at the bed right beside his, at the Skȓítek healers who were rushing to-and-fro in a mad attempt to save a life.

Her life.

Risha’s.

I couldn’t see her through the wall of activity except for the waves of strawberry curls that fell over the side of the bed. The usually soft curl in her hair was damp and sagging from her blood. The same blood that covered me.

It covers you because you were too weak to do what you needed.

Too weak to do what I asked …

No. Weakness does not live in this moment, Father.
Muscles tightening, I stopped the voice with a snap, not willing to let it take over. Not now, not after everything Risha had taught me.

I needed to take control.

For her.

For me.

“We need a stronger salve,” I heard one of the healers say, her voice tense, and the lanky man in front of me turned to the nightstand between us.

“Does anyone have any deadwood bark?” the lanky man asked, his hand moving fast as the smell of lemon grass overtook the smell of blood while he began to grind something in a mortar.

“I need stronger magic to stop this bleeding,” said another, their voice panicked. “I can’t knit the skin back fast enough.”

“Where is the queen?”

“She said she is coming.” My voice was as dead as I was, one hollow note of sound that hit against my heart painfully.

A few of them looked up at my response, their lips pressed into the same tight line before they went back to work.

Everything was distorted by my tears, everything except the profile of Risha’s face that peeked out from between the quickly working Skȓíteks. Eyes stinging, I stared, crippled by the sight of blood that seeped from her nose and mouth, as well as her eye socket that was sunken and inflamed.

I swallowed, my throat a painful lump that restricted my breathing. Then I gasped, suddenly uncertain if I would ever get enough air again.

“She’s coming,” I repeated, willing it to be true, although I knew as all the others did that she might be a while. I knew where she was … who she was with.

Jaromir wasn’t the only one who had died.

My heart tensed as my hand tightened around his, his little fingers as stiff and cold as ice.

“Please, Joclyn, hurry. Please,” I growled to myself past clenched teeth.

My heart raced inside my chest with the fear that the healers who flittered and fluttered around the girl I had so quickly fallen in love with were right, that they couldn’t do much without Joclyn’s aid.

But the fear was more than that. It was the fear of what I had said—the terrible admission that I had fallen in love. I had fallen in love with this girl who now lay on a bloodstained sheet, fighting for her life. I was in love with her. And I was about to lose her.

It would figure that I would fall in love, only to lose it again.

No.

I couldn’t think like that.

I wouldn’t.

Pinching my eyes together in an attempt to block out the sound of the Skȓíteks, to block out their panic, I focused on the last time I had seen her, how soft her hand had been against mine. How warm she had been. How much I had wanted to kiss her. How much I wanted to feel her lips against mine.

The precious memory was shattered by the sound of the large wooden door at the other end of the hall. Air rushed past us as Ilyan and Joclyn ran in.

Ilyan’s arms were full of a large sheet, the formerly white fabric covered in crimson stains that spread over the fabric like blossoms.

Several of the Skȓíteks who were tending to Risha ran toward Ilyan, their hands over their mouths as the panic in the room increased, the agonizing tension pressing against my chest.

I wanted to tell them to stay there, not to leave Risha, that she needed them. However, I couldn’t get the words out past the lump in my throat.

Besides, Jos was already bee-lining right for us, her eyes as puffy and swollen as mine; her skin and clothes as blood colored. If I hadn’t known better, I would have said the red sky Edmund had covered us with had fallen down upon us and drenched us all.

“Jos,” I gasped, my voice coming out in a stutter she didn’t even seem to notice.

I finally let go of Jaromir’s stiff, curled fingers and ran around the bed to meet her, my tiny best friend whose head was a full foot below mine.

Jos ran right into me, her arms wrapping around me as mine did her. “I’m sorry, Ry.”

It was all she said, three words that slammed against my heart and twisted my gut so tightly the tears came again. They rushed from me in loud, obnoxious sobs. The emotional breakdown was made worse by the pressure of her body against mine, by the feeling of sorrow that we both shared.

It ripped through me, tensing every muscle and tightening my lungs. I gasped for breath, desperate to get air but also not caring if I ever breathed again. Everything hurt too much. I didn’t want to feel it anymore. And from the way Joclyn sobbed and clung to me, I knew that pain, that desire, was not only mine.

“I’m sorry, too,” I gasped out past the tears, the words broken and painful.

Her arms fell away from me as she took a step back, turning toward the girl I could now see clearly. For the first time since I had put her on this cot, I could see every injury: the way her arm twisted the wrong way, the way the skin on her stomach was ripped open, the way part of one of her legs was mostly detached.

I swallowed, willing the bile threatening to come up back down, and pushed my way to her bedside, leaning against the wall as I pressed my hand against her blood-soaked hair, too scared to watch Joclyn as she went to work. Too scared to look at Risha. Too scared to admit that this might be the last time I saw her. That this would be my last memory of her.

This broken, beaten, blood covered girl.

I didn’t want this to be my last memory. I didn’t want this to be the end.

“Try, Jos,” I said more to myself than to her, but she heard me, anyway.

Her silver eyes took one long look at me before she went to work, her voice echoing around me as she began to order the others around.

I barely heard her.

Everything was inaudible over the fearful buzzing in my ears, the sound of my heartbeat rumbling in my throat. I could see Joclyn talking and see the others rush around.

In the overwhelming static, Ilyan ran up to us, wrapping his hand around Risha’s wrist as he looked at me, his face intense with something I would never hear.

It was merely buzzing.

Merely heartbeats.

Merely pain.

Say your good-byes, son.

The voice was a taunt. It was wickedness. But for the first time in a year, I listened to it.

Leaning over Risha, I pressed my cheek to hers, feeling the surprising warmth of her skin against mine and the warmth of her blood.

Wiping away the crimson stain, I kissed her for the first time. I pressed my lips to her cheek, letting a tiny spark of my magic flow into her, wishing her magic would respond to it and that I could feel her magic against mine. Nevertheless, there was nothing except the startling heat of her skin, the fever that was ravaging her already broken body.

Not caring who saw, I let my lips linger there before I shifted, whispering in her ear the words I should have said weeks ago. I hoped she would hear.

“I love you, Reesh.”

I didn’t know if I had expected a Míracle with those words. I didn’t know if I expected anything. But with that single admission, the buzzing that had filled my head ceased, and the sounds of the room flooded me as the panic and fear I had tried to escape came back, slamming me in the chest and flattening me against the wall.

What did you expect, you stupid boy?

I said say good-bye.

This isn’t a fairy tale.

The words were stuck in my head, no matter how hard I tried to push them out. They were as stuck as I was while I watched Joclyn and Ilyan standing on either side of Risha’s bed, their hands wrapped around her, eyes locked, magic locked, tears streaming over their cheeks.

Stuck as Joclyn gasped, her lips pressing into a tight line.

Stuck as Ilyan turned toward me, his wide eyes sad, apologetic.

No.

Not apologetic. It couldn’t be. I didn’t want it to be. I didn’t want to admit I knew what that look meant. I didn’t want to admit I knew what was coming.

Yet, I knew.

I knew the second Ilyan let go of Risha’s hand, the second he let it fall back to the bed with a thud that rumbled through the air and smacked against my chest.

Ilyan said nothing as he stepped toward me, before hugging me the same as Joclyn had done before. Except this one was different.

It pressed against my heart and soul and held me in a way I had never been held before. A hug so tight I could tell he was trying to hold me together while I tried to fall apart. It was a hug that tried to give me strength, that tried to make everything okay.

But it couldn’t.

Nothing was okay anymore.

Nothing would be again.

The emotion twisted out of me, desperate to find something to hit as Joclyn placed Risha’s hand over her chest then covered her with her own bloodstained sheet. As she removed her from this world.

I needed to hit something. I needed to hurt. But Ilyan held me there. He held me as I collapsed to the ground, trying to hold me together.

But nothing could hold me together. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry.”

I didn’t know who said it, and I didn’t care. They could say it all they wanted.

It didn’t change anything.

It didn’t bring back what that little girl had taken away.

It didn’t take away the pain.