Crown of Cinders (Imdalind Series Book 7) (36 page)

That’s it, son.

Destroy her.

Letting my magic flow the way my father had trained me, I unleashed a powerful jolt that I knew would rip past the wall, break through it in its journey to injure her. To hurt her. To hurt Míra. I needed it to. I needed the chance to take them down completely. To make them pay.

Magic crackled dangerously across the air, slamming into her wall with a jolt that shook the room, a rebound of energy moving back through the room and smacking against me, sending me stumbling back as my magic was zapped into smoke and air like a bug against a blue light.

The air around me was buzzing, the irritating sound rattling in my head as I stepped back to where I had been, watching her wall continue to swell as it absorbed the power from my spell.

You can do better than that.

Destroy her!

You are weak!

No, I’m not.

Then prove me wrong.

The magical wall was inches from me, pinning me against the wall with no escape as I tried to counter, swinging my hand through the air in a desperate last attempt. But her spell was too strong. It moved past mine as though it was nothing but air, slamming into my gut, moving into me with burning ice that twisted and writhed into my muscles, sparking against my nerves in tiny, agonizing jolts.

The buzzing in the room swallowed me whole as I screamed, the sound echoing again and again as the pain spread through me, splitting my skull until I could hardly hear. I could hardly see. Even my own scream faded into a lost depth, my pain swallowing it whole.

I was once again thrown backward. I could feel the air blow past my hair, over my skin, but I couldn’t comprehend what was happening over the pain that cleaved my bones and nerves. My vision shifted from the spinning world I was thrown through to an encompassing black, everything fluctuating back and forth in a strobe of light and dark.

The wheel of color faded to nothing as my spine and shoulders slammed against the wall with a thud, the impact mixing with my own scream, with my father’s laugh, in a cavalcade that echoed inside my bones, twisting them further. Yet another pain adding to the agonizing burn that ripped through me.

My scream of pain turned into a whimper as I sat, sagging against the wall and floor. The sound was pitiful as the world continued to shift and fade around me. The spell was still working its way through me as my own magic, my own attacks, were turned against me.

I tried to move, but everything was paralyzed under the pain, a new jolt of torture moving through me every time I tried. So, I sat there, trapped in pain, the sound of my father’s laughter filling my head before everything around me began to mutate again. Ovailia’s and Míra’s voices drifted inside the rotating darkness as though they were from another world.

“Keep him here. He shouldn’t be much of a hassle like that,” Ovailia said, her voice sounding strange with the tiny bit of emotion that had seeped its way into it.

The pain must have been making me delusional to even think that. Ovailia had no emotion.

“Or I could kill him if you’d prefer,” Míra sneered at Ovailia’s suggestion.

Ovailia, however, seemed proud of herself, her ridiculously forced laugh echoing painfully inside my head.

“Whatever you do, just don’t let him get away or hurt himself, or you for that matter,” Ovailia continued.

The vision of the two of them standing together was clear for a moment before it faded back to the black pool that I seemed to be swimming in, pain shooting down my arms as I tried to move them.

“You say that like it’s easy,” Míra hissed, her voice cutting in and out. “I’m too young to babysit.”

“I need to find my brother before Sain does. Perhaps even locate Damek if I’m lucky.” Ovailia’s voice faded away as Edmund’s laugh became louder, the sound swelling in my head as the pain shot through me again. It seemed I was doomed to be trapped in one prison or another. “Keep the blade with you. We will be back to retrieve it and the baby. Then, together, we will end this.”

I caught a brief glimpse of Ovailia leaving the room, of Míra glaring at me, before a black fog drowned me, leaving me sitting against the wall in a stubborn stillness. It was my only option until the pain began to subside.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, refusing to move, forcing my panicked breaths into a calm. I was frozen, listening to the
booms
of explosions that shook the cave, to Míra’s uneven steps. I sat, keeping my eyes trained forward as I waited for just a glimpse of her as she paced before me, her eyes wide while she glared at me, just as angry as she always was.

The heavy tension that had twisted my body faded as the black did, dissolving until only the edges of my vision were shivering and twisting with darkness, only the tips of my nerves and the joints of my bones stinging.

If I were smart, I would have sat there for as long as I needed to recover, leaving the girl oblivious to my strength as I formulated a proper counterattack. But I didn’t, and part of me didn’t care. I was too desperate to see pain on her face, to feel the sweet relief of revenge that my father had always told me about.

It’s there, son.

Let it fuel you.

I sighed at the odd calm in his voice, the sound loud in the silence as Míra turned toward me, her eyes narrowing as she took a step in my direction.

“I’m guessing you can see me now,” she said, all sign of fear gone from her voice. Only the angry, smug, little brat I had met in Prague remained. “Wonder if you can hear me, though.” She stepped toward me slowly, cocking her head to the side as the corner of her mouth turned up, the wickedness shining right through. “I wonder what nasty things I can say—”

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?” The growl of my voice ripped past my anger as everything else bubbled underneath, still paralyzed by Ovailia’s attack. “Or did she just wash your mouth out with soap?”

The shock at what I had said slammed into the girl, her emotions bristling inside her eyes before it was all replaced with a scowl so similar to Ovailia’s I was sure the two had been spending too much time together.

“She did,” Míra snapped. “Not sure yours did, though.”

“She didn’t. My father made me kill her. He made people kill a lot of people who didn’t deserve to die. Like Jaromir.”

All emotion was wiped from her face. The gaunt horror that replaced it was something I didn’t expect. I expected her usual anger, the usual sneer, but she just stared, the look haunting as she looked beyond me to something dark, something that was twisting inside her.

The look sped into me, my pulse increasing as my vengefulness did. Everything pumped and moved in perfect harmony as my magic began to ignite, the last of Ovailia’s counterattack leaving.

“He didn’t have to die,” I hissed, letting my malice press against the little girl, letting it dig into her. Letting it hurt. “You didn’t have to kill him. But I do have to kill you.”

She opened her mouth, ready to say something, but I attacked, moving my hand fast, as an assault spread through the air toward her. The little girl threw herself to the side just in time.

She screeched in fear as I hissed in pain, the sudden movement sending fire and ice back inside my nerves and bones. I guessed I hadn’t recovered as much as I had thought.

Míra saw the opportunity and reacted, her counterattack hitting me straight in the gut as I was trying to shuffle away. The energy that spread from her hand crackled in the air as she held me in place, the power strong. I forced my head to turn toward her, using all of my strength to fight for that one simple movement.

She smiled as I glowered at her, her teeth tinted red as she pulled a tiny shard of a blood red stone from her pocket, brandishing it at me threateningly.

My eyes widened as it drew closer, blood boiling in fear of the Souls Blade in her hand.

“Where did you get that?”

“Ovailia told me where to find it. Don’t think I won’t kill you,” she hissed, placing the shard below my nose, the smell of acid and blood strong. “Don’t think I don’t want to.”

The darkness that was so common in her took the forefront. I knew I should see it as the warning it was, but I didn’t care.

I had the same darkness in me, after all.

“Like you killed Jaromir?” I spat, the words garbled from the forced tension in my jaw, her attack still wringing bones and tendons together painfully. “And Risha! And—”

“You think I wanted to kill them?” she suddenly yelled, the intensity of the spell she held against me increasing with the anger. I screamed, several bones in my chest and arms cracking under the pressure. “You think I wanted to kill my brother? You think I want to carry around this poisoned magic in me? You’re an idiot, Ryland! I don’t know why my brother ever looked up to you. You didn’t deserve him.”

Her words caught me off guard, my eyes widening as I tried to control my breathing, the pain and shock making the action difficult.

“I know you wanted to.” I forced the words out, determined to slap them against her despite the pain. “You split his skull in two. He died in my arms, gasping for his mother.
Your
mother.”

“Stop!” she yelled again, throwing the blade away as her magic snapped.

Another scream ripped from me as yet more bones began to splinter and crack.

My magic rushed to heal them, but even that was restrained under her hold, leaving me heaving in pain as the broken bones pushed against tendons, skin, and muscles in ways they were not meant to. Given the pain and the way my forearm seemed to be arching unnaturally, I was sure that one broken fragment was about to break through. I screamed in agony, but Míra only looked at me, her jaw tight and eyes wide as she, too, slowly lost control.

“I had to kill Thom to save all of you … to
stop
Edmund.”

“Some good it did you,” I interrupted, my words strained and broken through the pain. “You saved no one. And now Edmund is dead.”

“Am I?”

Míra’s eyes widened as mine did. Her magic fell away as her own fear gripped her, the identical emotion wringing my heart.

Slowly, Míra turned toward the man I was now looking at, the man I had never hoped to see again.

“Father?” I could scarcely get the word out.

Edmund stood in the middle of the room behind Míra, his normally slicked hair disheveled and out of place. The curls that were so much like mine fell over his blood-ringed eyes. He glared, his eyes red and swollen, jaw slightly knocked out of place as he stood, wearing a bloodstained robe. A crimson stain spread over his chest and dripped from the hem of his shirt.

“Edmund!” Míra shouted, her anger redirected to the man who stood before us so blood-soaked I was sure he was an apparition, although he seemed so solid I didn’t see how that was possible.

“Oh, look,” Edmund hissed, his voice so clear I almost expected it to be inside of me rather than out. “My failure of a son and my failure of a slave. Perfect. If my last act is to dispose of the two of you, then so be it. And all it took was the destruction of the blade to bring me back, to give me one last chance.”

“No!” Míra screamed just as Edmund attacked, his palm twitching as a wide, glowing orb of white appeared on his fingertips. The ball sped toward us with one flick of his wrist as fast and as accurate as a well-aimed baseball.

It did not make it far, for as Míra screamed, she also countered, an attack of almost identical weight and speed moving toward him, perfectly intersecting with my father’s in a shower of sparks that exploded across the room, catching the bed on fire.

Feathers showered us with the impact, the white blossoms smoking and burning as they fell around the room. I looked at them for a moment before Edmund began to laugh, the sound the same I had been haunted with for so long, the laugh that had been ripping through my head until a moment ago. Now it was before me, separated by only a few feet and some burning feathers.

Now I could destroy it.

I could be free.

“Planning on fighting until the end, are we?” Edmund said with a laugh, cracking his knuckles as the fire began to spread, catching a pile of what seemed to be sheets on fire.

The room was trapped in a crackle of light and dark, the smell of smoke becoming overwhelming as the bright flames threatened to swallow us whole.

“Good. That will make things more entertaining.” Edmund stepped toward us as Míra began to move.

Any hope of a quick escape was dashed as Edmund snapped his fingers, the still burning mattress soaring through the air and slamming into the only exit. A shower of sparks and fire covered the room as it flew, bits of paper and fabric that were littered over the ground catching aflame.

I hissed and shuffled away from where I leaned against the wall, my body screaming from the simple movement. I attempted to kick a burning ember back toward my father, but my leg was barely able to move with the broken bones that were still crippling me. Not that it mattered. The fire that engulfed the mattress had already spread to a chair and a davenport that were both now smoking and flickering with flames on either side of the room.

The smoke in the air was smothering, making it impossible to breathe and leaving a weight on my chest.

Coughing, I grit my teeth against the pain and attempted to stand, but nothing responded. Even though my magic could now heal me, it wasn’t fast enough. I would have to fight from here.

“I don’t know what your idea of entertaining is, Father,” I hissed as I carefully shimmied my weight, freeing my limp hand from where my leg had trapped it. “But it’s your definition of
end
that I am more interested in.”

Edmund raised his eyebrow in derision as his lip twitched, the laugh a second from breaking back into my nightmares. That was before Míra attacked, her magic strong as it hit him square in the chest, catching him totally off guard. The two of us began to work together in an unexpected partnership.

He roared like the animal he was, gripping the air with his hands as he countered without looking, a ribbon of flame soaring toward the two of us.