Crown of Cinders (Imdalind Series Book 7) (30 page)

BOOK: Crown of Cinders (Imdalind Series Book 7)
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“You’re wasting your time, Ilyan,” Sain said, the taunt clear even though his voice was weak. “I think that one is a lost cause.”

I spun to face him, the man sitting calmly as he bounced a ball of light from his hands. The gash in his arm was almost healed. The magical orb refracted light over the dark cave as he played with it. The violent attack that it restrained was waiting to be thrown.

Magic boiled under my skin, the fire desperate to escape. I knew I couldn’t restrain it. I couldn’t stop it. Not anymore.

I didn’t want to.

“Proud of yourself, are you?” I asked, my voice seductive as I stepped toward him, fully aware my hips had begun to sway. I didn’t even try to restrain the seductress I had been raised to be, even if I didn’t look the part in a band shirt and bare feet. “Felling accomplished?”

“Accomplished would be an understatement, my dear,” he sneered as he spun the ball over his fingers, letting the light reflect over his haunted face. His eyes glossed over as he watched my hips sway. “She was supposed to be the greatest power. She was supposed to end your greatest threat. Instead, I ended her.”

I tried not to flinch at the amount of pride in his voice, her possible death giving him joy.

Tears pressed against my eyes, hot and painful, as I stared at him. Ilyan’s sobs echoed around the large cavern as he lifted Joclyn into his arms, running from the room.

I turned, my magic at the ready in case Sain attempted to stop them, but he waved good-bye with his bottom lip jutted out. The false sympathy was disgusting.

I watched them go, wishing to help, wishing to say good-bye to my friend. I didn’t move except to turn back toward Sain, my magic thundering into the ground again, unseen by the man who sat, smiling from his throne, his barrier firmly between us.

“But, yes, Wyn,” he continued as he leaned toward me, his eyes wrinkling together. “I would have to say that ending my daughter’s life is one of my greatest accomplishments. Right up there with helping Edmund take Rosaline’s.”

I stopped in place.

Thom was right. He couldn’t be, but…

The magic in his hands popped in white light over his head in a harmless explosion. I didn’t even notice. My world was ice and fire.

My fire screamed, desperate to explode out of me, but it was frozen underneath the shock, against the sound of his laugh. Frozen behind my tears.

I stared at him, unseeing, my hair whipping around my face as an attack sped past me. The colors pulled me from my shock as they spread over Sain’s wide barrier.

“Why, Thom!” Sain yelled, the name jerking me as long, dirty dreads swung into my peripheral vision. “It’s been ages! How are you, my friend?”

“Do not use that word for me!” he vented, his hand wrapping around mine and pulling me out of my emotional swamp. “I am not your friend and will never be. You killed our daughter!”

“Oh! You heard that,” Sain called, clapping his hands together in enjoyment. “Wonderful! No secrets between us, right, old friend?”

If it weren’t for Thom’s hand wrapped around mine, his grip a vice against my fingers, I would have attacked Sain right then. Barrier or no, I was pretty positive I could reach him and rip his head off.

I didn’t think anything could stop me.

“I am not your friend,” Thom growled, stepping toward Sain.

I didn’t stop him.

“I know what you are, Thom.”

The joy in Sain’s face vanished, his hands slamming together in another clap. This time, the sound rippled through the air, the sound a hundred decibels above what I had expected. It flowed, hitting against the massive doors of the hall, closing them with a jolt.

I jumped, looking at Sain as he stepped toward us, his eyes black and dangerous.

“I created you. I molded you into what you are. It will make it all the easier to destroy you.”

RYLAND
26

A
shaky inhale
rattled through my chest. The desperate gasps for air were the only sound I could hear, the only sound that made it past my panic. The world was only comprised of breathing.

Breathing rattled off the stone hallways as we ran past antique side tables and towering wooden doors. Breathing matched the impact of my rubber soles against the cold stone in a perfect rhythm. Breathing smothered Ilyan’s desperate sobs, drowned out the whimpers from the girl he held, devouring the sound of his own steps.

Only breathing.

I let it smother me, smother the world, desperate for it to cover the already pained pressure that was taking over my chest. A pressure that had been there for days, a pressure that only kept increasing.

I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.

You can’t.

You will rip yourself apart with these foolish emotions.

You should have followed me from the beginning.

Shaking my head, I dismissed the words before the truth in them took hold, before that desperation that was moments from devouring me won out. The words left, allowing the world around me to return.

Sound flooded my mind with the agonizing pain of Ilyan’s cries, the soft whimpers from Joclyn as she fought for her life. They hit my heart with even more pain, my chest tightening as everything began to turn to ice, the agony so great it couldn’t be contained.

Better not to feel than to hurt.

I quite agree.

The cave shook as we ran, and the sound of some distant explosion rumbled through the stone, knocking an old vase off a small table that was inset into the stone. The blast shivered around us, sending rubble over our heads like rain. I jerked, suddenly not so sure the cave wasn’t going to come down on top of us.

“Keep moving,” Ilyan barked from in front of me.

“But the cave …” I returned with a heave, my eyes drifting up to the ceiling that continued to tremble above us, and one of the many clusters of mirrors rattled dangerously.

“It’ll be fine. There is magic stronger than us in this stone. It would take the end of magic to bring it down.”

At any other time, I would have been inspired by that answer, awed by the space that I had waited my whole life to enter. But I couldn’t. Not now.

“Keep up,” Ilyan said, his focus steady as he turned a corner and Joclyn’s feet hit the wall, sending a wave of iron and salt over me, the air infused with the smell of her blood.

The ice in my heart stabbed painfully at the smell, at the way her feet shifted like rags against the stone: lifeless, dead. Just like my heart that was slowly turning to ice and stone that would never feel again. How could it after everything? It had only just survived Risha; I didn’t think it could survive this.

It can’t. I will make sure it does not.

Another stab, this one more painful.

I cringed and sped up, running past an overstuffed chair that had been ripped and pulled apart. I kept Joclyn’s long hair in my line of sight, the strands falling over Ilyan’s arm, the braid she had worn earlier all but gone now. It was a tangle of curls now, the long golden ribbon dragging along the ground, the beautiful color stained with the same crimson as everything else.

I swallowed as Ilyan turned again, and Joclyn’s face came into view for a split second. Her beautiful diamond eyes were cast in the black that had become so normal for her, staring into nothing. Her mouth moved in silence, the singular word she had been repeating from the moment Ilyan had burst through the doors still playing on her lips, her body limp in his arms.

“Imdalind.”

Imdalind. The caves we were running through, the caves I had heard legends about for my whole life. More than that, the pool of water deep underneath where the first four had come from, where magic came from, and where Ilyan was taking us.

“Ilyan,” I gasped out as I pushed my legs harder to catch up. They were stiffening in my attempt to keep the speed Ilyan was moving at. He didn’t seem fazed by it, though. He only soared farther, his magic moving behind us as it prodded us forward. “How much farther?”

“Not far,” he gasped, the pain in his voice making it clear he was speaking to Joclyn, not to me. I didn’t care. It was still the answer I needed.

“We can make it,” I whispered, determined for the statement to be true.

I had barely gotten the words out before Ilyan’s breakneck pace slowed, the magic that was prodding us forward falling from the air. For the first time since he had commanded I follow him, he looked at me.

“Someone is ahead. I’ll need you take them out before we continue. No one can see the entrance. I can’t risk Sain finding it.”

Don’t worry; you are going to take me right to it.

Nodding once, I ignored the voice, looking away from Ilyan’s icy stare and toward the dark turn in the cave ahead of us, toward the unknown attacker who stood somewhere ahead.

Madness pressed against me, fueled by the need to save my friend, the heat of my magic not far behind. The two opposing strengths pressed against each other, both threatening to attack, to devour me.

It was a familiar sensation, but one I could control. I already had at the battle during the council just days before. I would here.

Can you?

I had to.

Do you really think you won’t kill her, instead?

I would do anything to get Ilyan where he needed to go.

My legs moved faster as I controlled my magic, pulling ahead of Ilyan as we began to round the next bend in the corridor. The dark stone swallowed us before a bright blue light flooded the hallway, spreading over the dark stone from an oversized passageway just ahead.

The narrow, dark stone hallway opened up into a massive commons room with high ceilings that reached far above us, covered in glass and mirrors. The mirror work tinkled with another distant explosion, twisting in the air as they reflected the blue light, the ethereal glow turning to ocean waves against the stone.

Water lapped against stone, against several large tapestries that were hung on the walls, against the ancient furniture that was littered throughout the space. Many couches and chairs were upturned and ripped apart. I was sure it had been beautiful months ago, but now it looked haunted and forgotten.

The mirrors shivered with another explosion, sending the light into a dance, everything quaking except for ten spots of dark that circled the space, spreading out from the larger room like spokes on a wheel.

I looked at the cavern in awe before my heart was ripped from my chest when a young boy emerged from one of the oversized entryways, running across the wide space with a wide look of panic on his face. The image slammed into me, taking me back to just a few hours ago when I stood on that dratted mountaintop, pushing his hair back from his grey face.

“Jaromir,” I gasped, the word swallowed by the knot in my chest.

“No,” I heard Ilyan gasp as he came up behind me.

I didn’t turn toward him. I stared at the child, my heart rate increasing as I took a step forward, ready to tackle the boy, ready to grab him and run out of this mess. For a moment, it didn’t matter that I had buried him, that he was gone. It was him. It had to be. It was him, and everything was fine. I almost expected Risha to run in right behind him. I expected their laughs. I expected life to rewind and be what it was, what it was going to be.

Don’t get too excited, son.

How many times do I have to tell you that life isn’t a fairy tale?

I know it’s not—

You are a fool.

I am not a fool.

Look again.

I had taken two steps toward Jaromir before I stopped short, the haunted words of my father hitting far too clearly as my heart seized, and my eyes saw for the first time what I had missed: hair that was far too blonde; a face that, while similar, was missing the mark on his face. The kiss that had irritated him so before he had found out that it had given him magic wasn’t there.

It wasn’t him.

But I knew who it was. Only one other person looked so much like him.

“Míra!” I erupted, realization smacking me across the face, stinging my eyes as my already unstable magic roared to life. The voice inside of me laughed in excitement.

Maybe it is a fairy tale.

The girl stopped short as she turned toward me. A large pink scar stretched over her face, distorting her features as her jaw dropped into a wide “oh.” She wasn’t looking at me, however. She was looking at the man next to me, the surprise meant for him.

“Ilyan! There you are! I need you!” The fear I had expected in her was lost in a kind of relief she shouldn’t have felt. A relief she shouldn’t be allowed to feel. Not after what she had done. Not after what she had taken from me.

Then why don’t you make her pay?

Why don’t you make her hurt?

Make her cry …

Maybe I will.

Fury rushed within me, erupting in a feral shriek that resonated through the hall, slapping against her face and wiping the relief from it. The fear she should have felt from the beginning took its place.

“Ryland.”

“You killed him!” The words broke free as any restraint I had snapped in half. Wild anger ripped out of me as my father’s laugh grew into a raucous growl. Magic rumbled underneath my skin, boiling inside my muscles in a desperate attempt to reach her.

To do to her what she had done to me.

Make her pay.

Watch the regret on her face.

It’s beautiful. You need this.

“You killed her!”

“Ryland, no!” Ilyan screamed from beside me, his panicked counsel falling to nothing as a blast exploded from my hand.

An attack that was meant to kill streamed from me, dyeing the bright blue light of the room into a deep green as it sped right at the child. Right at her chest, ready to do to her what she had done to me.

Míra screamed as Ilyan ran past me, her frightened howl a comforting lullaby as she jumped to the side, behind a large destroyed davenport in a desperate attempt to escape my attacks. Attacks kept coming, one after another, ready to destroy her, to end her.

Tables exploded; glass tinkled against the stone. Everything around us began to explode as I attacked her, each assault chasing her down in an attempt to reach her. My anger grew as the once fine furnishings of the room got in my way. No matter. I would destroy it all to get to her.

“Ryland! No!” Ilyan repeated his plea as his body impacted with mine, a heavy shoulder slamming into my back, the lanky weight of my brother pinning me to the ground. “Stop! We talked—”

“I’m not going to take her alive!” I writhed underneath him as I yelled, twisting, slamming a free hand into his shoulder. A single spark of magic moved into him, erupting inside of him and ripping the muscle and flesh.

His blood showered over me, raining over my face and arm as he was thrown back through the air in a blur of blond hair and gold ribbons. His yell of pain and anger faded as my scream followed his flight.

“She doesn’t deserve to live!”

Neither does he.

Don’t hesitate, Ryland.

Kill them all, son.

The glass and mirrors above us shook and rattled from the impact of his body against the wall, the blue light quivering around him as his body peeled from the stone and fell to the ground with a
thwack
.

“Only her, Father. She’s going to pay,” I said quietly, more to myself than to him.

Turning from Ilyan, I looked at the girl in question as she glanced at me from behind the large couch that she seemed to think would be some kind of safety.

I smiled at the imagery, sending the couch flying with one little flick, but not before she had sent her own counterattack speeding toward me in a ribbon of violet that sparked and crackled. The blue air filled with electricity, and the oxygen around us ignited with the heat of her attack.

The wild spark of her spell sped closer as I took a step toward the girl. The dangerous warning in my eyes caused her to step back, grinding her teeth together. I swiped my hand once through the air, and a steady stream of magic shot from my fingers and right toward her. Her own attack was only inches from me.

The electric air around us made the hair on my neck and arms stand on end, my magic prickling in response. It was an odd sensation, one that flowed through my magic, charging it as I prepared my attack.

The air around me continued to explode as her attack was about to make contact, my own countering at the last minute. The line of electric violet sizzled to nothing, and the stream of energy fell to the ground with a simple flick of my finger. The air was now full of nothing except a little bit of grey smoke.

“I would just give up if I were you,” I taunted, shoving a large chair to the side without touching it.

Taking a step toward her, I moved another chair, this one slamming aggressively against the wall just as she waved my own counterattack away, the power from it strong enough that she burned her hand.

She hissed, waving her fingers through the air in an attempt to dispel the pain, but her eyes never left mine, even as I began to step closer to her, my eyes lowered in clear warning.

“You are just like your father, Ryland,” she hissed, narrowing her eyes in an anger I didn’t expect. Not from her. Not about him.

Yes, you are.

It’s a beautiful thing.

Her words cut deeply as the laugh in my head grew into a wall of sound I couldn’t escape. The sound was so loud it drowned out the words the little girl continued to yell at me, her anger clear.

I heard none of it.

Even she sees it.

When are you just going to accept who you are?

When are you just going to become like me?

Stop stalling.

Do it now.

“No!” I erupted, the reaction not expected by the girl.

She jumped, jerking into the air as her eyes widened, the same fear I had seen when she had spoken of my father now directed at me.

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