Crown of Cinders (Imdalind Series Book 7) (3 page)

At least Wyn understood how horrifying a proposition Ilyan had put in front of me.

I know you can do this.
Ilyan’s hand was soft against my back as he came up behind me, the weight of his palm strong.

I know I can, too. It doesn’t mean I want to.
As I leaned into him, he turned us back toward the others, the three of them standing in the shadows with differing looks of confusion and anger covering their faces.

“I cannot feel anything within the void, but that does not mean it is empty. We have all seen Edmund do worse,” Ilyan announced, pulling me closer to him. “I need Joclyn and Ryland to meet with the children to see what information they can glean, what Joclyn can find.”

“Pass the eye-gouger,” Ryland grumbled, the same darkness taking over his eyes again. “Not that I have anything against this plan, but do you really think it’s wise, Ilyan? You know what Edmund’s magic does to me.”

“To both of us,” I added with a grumble.

“And the plot thickens,” Wyn said with a smile, throwing her arm around Ryland and pushing the very shocked Risha out of the way. “I think I need to be there, too, Ilyan. You know, for moral support.”

“As far as I see it, Wynifred, you are still on probation, so don’t push your luck.” Ilyan’s voice was a snap, but Wyn didn’t seem to mind.

She waved him off, her eyes smiling as she turned toward Risha, who was obviously not amused with her antics.

“I rescue the king from a deadly corpse army, and this is my thanks? I might be as despised as Sain made Joclyn out to be. No offense.”

“None taken,” I said.

“Wynifred,” Risha began, her voice hard as she attempted to hold the same power Ilyan held over my somewhat out of control best friend.

Wyn looked at her as though she were a weird teacher’s pet.

“It’s time you listened to your leader.”

“Why? Is he going to assimilate me or something? Because I am pretty sure he knows that won’t work.”

It was all but impossible to hold back a snicker, especially with Ilyan’s hidden laugh echoing inside my head.

His fingers pressed into my back.
I have told Risha before not to play with fire …

Maybe she has to get burned first,
I replied, watching Wyn and Risha engage in some sort of epic staring contest, only to have my focus pulled away by familiar broad shoulders.

“Joclyn.” Ryland’s voice was a reverberation that pulled me past the dark and right to him, the emerging cat-fight forgotten. His rugby muscles twitched as his lips pulled into a half-smile. “You ready for this?”

I stiffened. “Can you ever be ready for something like this?” I tried very hard to ignore the way my spine had instantly stiffened. It wasn’t something Ilyan was going to ignore.

Ilyan stepped beside me, towering over his brother and me as he pulled me against him again. “Just keep those pretty eyes where they belong, and I think we will all be happy.”

“Agreed,” Ryland responded far too quickly. Luckily, Ilyan chose to ignore it.

“I need you to investigate the Štít. See if it is, indeed, a Štít and whose magic is controlling it.”

I nodded once at Ilyan’s request. It seemed simple enough, though I already knew it wouldn’t be.

“Ryland knows Jaromir well enough that he should be able to put them at ease. Find out as much as you can …
See
if you can.”

“So, as much info as possible,” Ryland recapped, tapping his fingers against his hip bone as he mentally counted. “Keep the kids calm, check for magic, and Joclyn can do her Drak mumbo-jumbo.”

“It’s not mumbo-jumbo, Ry,” I interjected.

He opted not to hear me.

“Oh! And not killing each other,” he continued, the afterthought sitting in my gut like a stone. “Definitely cannot kill each other.”

“That would be preferable.” Ilyan’s fingers tightened against my waist.

Don’t worry, Ilyan.

“I promise not to kill you,” Ry said directly to me, his face twisted in an odd humor.

“I promise not to lose control and make friends with rats.” I couldn’t help it. Try as I might to get the words out with a straight face, I didn’t quite make it. The sound of my laugh pulled the focus from the bickering old ladies, and Ryland’s own chuckle followed behind.

Ilyan looked concerned, his face contorted in a frown as he pulled the memory out of my head, his concern and sadness attempting to drown me.

“Perhaps Wyn was right,” Ilyan said. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

Everything will be fine,
I reassured him, the tiniest bit of self-doubt still trying to move into a paralyzing fear. However, I wouldn’t let it. Even Ilyan’s sudden worry wasn’t enough to let me second-guess myself.
If anything happens, I can probably subdue him
and
put on a puppet show for the kids before you get there.

“A puppet show, huh?” Ilyan taunted, the worry fading away and making room for the smothering pride I was so used to from him. “Like
Punch and Judy
?”

I was lucky to get the reference, especially with the way looking at him was making my head spin, my stomach swirling pleasantly.

“Yes, but without all the violence.”

My lips extended into a wide smile as I lifted myself onto my tiptoes. His eyes danced as I pressed my lips to his, his arm winding around my back to pull me against him. He held me there as he deepened the kiss, tugging the long ribbon in my hair to lift my chin toward him.

“Excuse me,” Ryland snapped, my stomach tying itself up into immediate knots. “I’m standing right here.”

I had obviously forgotten.

Ilyan, on the other hand, had not.

He chuckled darkly, one hand still wound around my waist as he gazed down at me, his eyes soft, fingers a gentle caress against the side of my face. I, on the other hand, looked like I was about to be bowled over by a herd of wild buffalo. My heart definitely felt like that was imminent with the way it was thundering.

“I am aware, brother,” Ilyan said, pushing some of the strands of hair that had come free from the braid behind my ear, his eyes locked with mine. “I felt like you needed a small reminder that you won’t, in fact, kill Joclyn over small triggers. You are stronger than the crap he infected you with, both of you.”

Ryland’s jaw dropped in shock. I almost expected him to explode in frustration. Hell, I almost wanted to from being used in that way, but it had been a
really
good kiss.

The shock began to fade away as Ryland laughed.

Wyn bounced over to us at the sound, Risha sulking behind. Wyn was obviously ready to absorb whatever drama she had missed. However, Ryland kept laughing, Ilyan joining him while I stood sandwiched between them in confusion.

“Thank you, brother,” Ryland said around his laugh, his hand soft against my shoulder as he pried me away from Ilyan; the man in question chuckling as his brother pulled me out of the alley.

“We’ll be back,” he said with a wave of his hand.

I stumbled backward after him, my focus drifting between Wyn and Ilyan, both of whom were looking at me with varying levels of confusion and enjoyment.

I should be mad at you,
I growled into Ilyan’s mind.

The widening smile on his face was the last thing I saw as the alley swallowed them, the stone wall and large wooden door of the hospital sliding before me like a stage prop.

But you aren’t, mi lasko. You love me too much.

Hearing those tender words inside my mind set off a warm soap bubble of joy inside me. It rattled my bones in a pleasant way that made me long to wrap myself up in it.

I do, Ilyan. I love you.

As I love you, my darling.
His magic flooded me with his words, so dear, so warm and pure that I missed Ryland releasing me from his grip.

I came back to my senses as he waved his big hand in front of me.

“Sorry to interrupt the love fest, but we do actually have a job.” Ryland stepped away from me, moving toward the door with a light step. If it weren’t for the way his fists kept clenching and unclenching—one of his tells—I would say he was looking forward to this.

“What love fest?” I tried very hard to keep the guilt out of my voice as I followed him up the stairs, my worn sneakers squeaking against the stone.

Ryland turned, a sly smile on his face before he turned away. His shoulders tensed as he pushed the door open. “It’s painted on your face, Jos. It’s either you and Ilyan ogling each other, or you’re dreaming of a hamburger.”

“Ew.”

“What do you mean,
ew
? Sometimes, I wonder what you’ve done with my best friend.” Laden with truth and loss, his words hung between us as we began to move across the long, darkened room.

The tall windows that lined the space were covered with curtains so thick they kept the red light away. I could almost convince myself we had stepped back into reality.

Just my best friend and I, off on some epic adventure.

With that and the bright white lanterns that hung from the ceiling, everything in here looked almost normal, like a regular hospital … if that hospital were in eighteenth-century France.

The old metal-framed beds sat at regular intervals. The healing Chosen were curled up in white linens, moaning and groaning, not an IV bag or EKG machine to be seen. Just glass bottles of oddly colored medicines and bowls of assorted dried plants.

Despite the archaic nature, it was all so normal.

“You used to love hamburgers.”

Except for that, I could almost believe it.

“I used to not be a Drak, either.” I sighed, trying my hardest not to look at the people in the beds we passed. “Between your brothers, my brother, and my pain in the behind father—”

“Everything changed.” Ryland stopped in place as he finished my sentence, his eyes focused on the children ahead of us. Something more than fear and loss was etched in his eyes.

They sat, Míra tucked into one of the many iron beds, Jaromir sitting against the footboard, jabbering and laughing as if they weren’t locked up in a healing ward stuffed in the middle of a war.

Watching them, I waited for Ry to move, but he stayed still, frozen in a world I wasn’t convinced I belonged in anymore.

“Ry?” I asked after a minute, my heart rate beginning to pick up in fear. Everything about him seemed normal, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to turn on me and attack.

Ilyan, sensing my worry, pressed his magic into me via our connection, the warmth flooding me in an attempt to settle my fear. But there wasn’t any fear, only worry about what Ryland was going to do. My brain made battle plans about how to restrain him without hurting too many of the people around us.

“You’re a queen,” Ryland said to break the silence, my heart tensed at once.

As if I needed a reminder that I didn’t fit.

The words were so simple it should have been calming, but he was still frozen in dread, his eyes gazing into nothing. Even his magic had disappeared from my radar.

I hated when he did that. It was a nice parlor trick his father had left him with.

“We’ve been over this, Ry.” I was still hesitant to say much, my magic prickling more in preparation.

“No, I mean, you are a queen.” He finally pulled out of his stupor, spinning to face me. The gaunt nothing had left his face, and a brilliant eager light had taken its place. Still, I couldn’t relax, even though Ilyan had seemed to. Whatever he was viewing through my eyes had put him at ease.

It would be nice if he would share some of that calm, but he was silent.

“Yes.”

“Little girls love queens. They love princesses.”

Everything fell into place as Ryland wrapped his hands around my shoulders, shaking me slightly in his excitement.

I could feel the confusion slip from my scowl. Either that or it was the brain damage from being jostled around.

“So, I should be a queen? Like, in a theme park where little girls line up in pretty dresses and get signatures and pictures?”

Ryland nodded, obviously proud of his deduction.

Ugh.

“I should have worn one of my council dresses.” It was a grumble of irritation that Ryland chuckled at. He knew my hatred for dresses better than anyone.

I wasn’t sure I would get into a dress, anyway, but I knew that frayed jeans and blood-stained sneakers weren’t going to cut it. Ryland, however, didn’t seem to care. He smiled eagerly and stepped away, jogging toward the kids in his excitement.

“Jaromir!” he yelled, jerking awake several of the Chosen. Jaromir turned, his face breaking out into the biggest smile I had ever seen, causing the mark on his cheek to squish together.

With a rush, he ran from the bed to tackle-hug Ryland around the waist.

“I heard you have news for me,” Ryland said.

“The best news!” the kid erupted, grabbing Ryland’s hand and dragging him toward the girl who still sat on the bed, blonde hair braided down her back, face wilting in what I assumed was fear. “This is my sister.”

“Hello, Míra,” Ryland whispered, his big, meaty hand wrapping around the girl’s tiny one, his magic surging from the contact. I was confident he was laying the foundation for what I needed to do. “It’s so nice to meet you. Welcome to our home. We are so glad you are safe.”

“So am I. It was so scary out there,” the little girl squeaked, her response hesitant and worrisome.

I could tell she was attempting to look brave, to look innocent. The shake in her voice was perfect, the way her shoulders pulled into her ears carefully done.

It was almost overdone, a perfect replica of another deceptive man I was related to.

That might be why I saw right through her.

I saw through the wide eyes and looked into the darkness that haunted her. I looked past the innocence in her voice and heard the malicious voice that had haunted my dreams for so long. I heard the wickedness that had hunted me in shadows.

I would love to say I heard it because of what Ilyan had said, because I knew there was a Štít inside of her, but one look to Ryland and I knew I wasn’t alone.

I wasn’t the only one who had heard it. I saw his back stiffen, freezing him in place, his hand still wrapped around the little girl’s as his muscles knit together. I could almost hear his mind buzzing with anxiety, my own spiking in fear of what seemed like an imminent attack.