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

“I told you I would kill you!” the Trpaslík screamed as he attacked again. Mine came a second behind, hitting him square in the chest as Wyn’s attack intersected in a weird array, the hole in her hand sending the color wide.

The two beams of color converged into one, the brilliant light seeping into his skin like an infection. It swept over him, sending him to the ground in a twitching heap.

Wyn once again captured her prisoner, her cage stronger as the flames licked around him, the heat and pressure a brilliance in the alley.

Knowing she could handle herself, I stepped toward the now lifeless man who was misshapen on the ground, his eyes wide and vacant as he stared into nothing, his whole body quivering as our magic devoured him. I guess that was what happened when you met both Wyn and me—a quick death.

“We really need to be more careful,” I said to myself, unable to look away from the flesh below me that was beginning to bubble and boil.

“He didn’t explode,” Wyn stated, obviously absentminded as she restrained her prisoner.

“Yet.” I said the word to myself, pulling away from the haunting way the Trpaslíks body moved.

“
Now
are you going to talk to me?” Wyn snapped, a revelry in the attack still winding inside her. I guessed she really was winning. An attack and a capture.

I laughed to myself, turning back to Wyn and her prisoner.

The Trpaslíks face was turned up in a wicked smile as he met her dead-on.

“You say
talk
like I have another option,” the Trpaslík mocked, the jeering I had expected from earlier clear and vibrant. “I would rather talk than go back to what that blasted man has done.” The man’s obstinance faded to something closer to disgust, a disappointment I never thought I would see on a Trpaslík coloring him.

“What blasted man?” I asked, the snippet of conversation from before pushing against my heart. My magic flared so powerfully I was surprised it didn’t pull me into sight.

Joclyn?
Ilyan asked in obvious concern.

I ignored him. I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t think beyond the pieces that were slowly pulling together in my head.

The Trpaslík smiled from behind the fire, his eyes focused on me, the sneer returning with a dangerous light. “You know?” he queried to himself, “I think I’ll keep it all: the answers, the truth, and most of all … my freedom from the hell Sain has created.”

With that, he walked into Wyn’s cage, destroying his own life before we had the chance to stop him. Wyn screamed in disbelief, and my jaw went slack in confusion, not wanting to believe the possibilities that had made themselves clear.

“
I
heard them over there
, Míra!” Risha’s voice rolled over the rubble of the cathedral like the morning fog of the mountains near my old home.

It was a lone voice, a single haunting apparition that echoed and moved as if it had come from the smoke itself. But I knew better. I knew she was somewhere out there, behind the fog, hunkered down in the dark with her teammate, trying to find a way to capture our flag.

Trying to get past us.

We wouldn’t let them.

Taking one sidelong glance at Jaromir, I nodded once in the direction of our flag, an old Hawaiian shirt we had tucked underneath a large slab of concrete. Perhaps, by sending him to guard it while the girls attempted to defeat me, I would be able to take them out. Then we might have a chance.

We had won two out of the last three games, and the girls were being ruthless this time. They obviously didn’t want to lose again.

It was getting late. The sun had already set, which meant they were running out of time to claim a win.

Jaromir smiled at the silent request, his eyes full of understanding as he scuttled away from me amidst the ruins of the once beautiful cathedral. What little was visible of the formerly pristine mosaic tile was smashed to bits.

The sound of shifting debris was a distorted resonance in the open space. It rippled against the fog and drifted into the purple sky far above us where the crimson stars danced to the noise.

Noise I already knew was too loud.

If they didn’t know for certain where we were before, they did now.

My heart beat more heavily. I had endured endless battles and terrifying realities, but somehow, playing capture the flag with two unrelenting girls was more terrifying.

The sound of Jaromir’s footsteps faded as the smoke folded around him, swallowing him whole.

I stood alone, my hands at the ready, magic buzzing within the heavy pulse of my blood, the panicked energy making my fear worse.

Silence stretched, so still that, standing there, I could hear the movement of the fog. The whispered rush of fog and smoke that moved through my hair, whispered in my ears.

Shifting my feet, I turned to look behind me, my heart beating with a painful throb as rocks tumbled away from the small rise I stood on, falling end over end with a clack of sound.

“You’re supposed to be quiet,” Risha said from behind me, her voice a seductive murmur as the familiar warmth of her magic ran over me with the strength of a hurricane.

The fog around us moved from the intensity of her power, a deep desire for her rippling alongside.

My magic longed for hers, as I did. It pulsed with the contact, turning to ice the second the spell took hold, wrapping around me and freezing me in place.

Immobile, I could feel myself teetering back and forth, unable to hold my balance on the pile of rubble. It was something that was not missed by Risha, who smiled wickedly, stepping around me and upsetting the stones underneath me further.

“Don’t, Reesh,” I pleaded, grateful I could still speak.

“Don’t what?” she teased.

A giggle echoed from somewhere behind her, making it clear that Míra was watching the scene from somewhere in the fog, the density clearing a bit as the magic began to wear off.

“Save me, Jaromir!” I yelled desperately, all hope lost when both Risha and Míra laughed harder, this time joined by a little boy’s giggle that I knew too well.

“No!” I yelled, as Risha’s smile hit its maximum, her hand moving forward and pressing against my chest, the tiniest pressure sending me backward.

Falling, I landed hard against stone and wood, my immobile figure rolling down the tiny hill like Jack must have done with that darn pail.

I wished I had a pail. Then I could use it as a helmet. I could feel every jagged edge of rock against the soft tissue in my arms and back. Wood and stone hit my face and head with the strength of a battering ram. And while I rolled, I hissed and gasped in an attempt to break free from the bind Risha had placed over me as her malicious laugh echoed throughout the fog. She was quite pleased with herself.

“We’ve won, Míra!” Risha said, running right up to me and placing her foot square on my rib cage, posing beside me like a big game hunter with a new kill. “I have defeated him, and it was glorious!”

Míra’s dark, little laugh resonated over the rubble and fog as she ran up to us like a bullet, her arms stretched out like a plane, the frayed floral shirt clutched securely in her fist.

“We win! We win!” she said, skipping and jumping, her hair waving away the smoke behind her.

Even oddly construed here on the ground, a smile seeped across my face. It was such an odd occasion to get anything more than a sneer and a glare out of that little girl.

“Very funny,” I grumbled, still trying to shift underneath the lock that Risha had pinned me with, still unable to move more than an inch.

Perfect. I was a lion down for the kill, pranced around by Míra. And to make matters worse, Jaromir joined her dancing and prancing, screaming “We win” right alongside his sister.

“Hey!” I yelled, my voice distorted, my cheek smashed uncomfortably against a large bit of stone. “You’re on my team, Jaromir!”

“Not anymore!” The boy laughed with his sister as they danced and played, stone and wood crunching around me in an odd orchestra.

“Jaromir knows whose side is the winning one, Ryland,” Risha teased as she stepped down from my sore and bruised torso, releasing the magic with the softest touch of her fingers against my face.

My stomach swooped and spun at the contact.

“He defected?” I was aghast, my eyes wide as I sat up to face the treacherous child.

He didn’t even seem affected by the strength of my glare. He laughed harder, his face squishing oddly due to the large kiss on his cheek as he continued dancing behind his sister’s long, blonde curls.

“Yeah, he didn’t want to lose, I guess,” Risha said, sitting down beside me and trying her best to find a clean bit of rubble to avoid soiling her long skinny jeans.

I wanted to tell her it was hopeless yet couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“You sent him away, right toward Míra, and we didn’t even have to bribe him.”

“Ah …” Realization dawned on me more quickly than it normally did. “It was a rookie mistake.”

“They are a tad bit loyal to each other.” Risha lifted her thumb and forefinger, as if to display the depth of that loyalty. Instead, she framed the children who were still dancing and playing and laughing.

“Let’s hope that loyalty can switch in other ways before it’s too late.” I tensed. I had spoken out of turn, and I knew it. Risha did, too.

Her back straightened as much as mine had. It was a very clear rule that we didn’t discuss everything within earshot of the twins. Although I was confident they were both preoccupied enough that neither heard, I could never be certain with them. They didn’t miss much.

If I had thought Jaromir was attentive, it was nothing compared to Míra.

“Patience, Ry,” Risha sighed, her focus still on the kids. “I think we are closer than we were a few days ago. She hasn’t tried to kill you in the last few days, so that’s a step in the right direction.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I can fight back. Otherwise, I might be short an arm by now. Maybe I deserved it. I am dangerous.” I laughed, and Risha did, too. It wasn’t much of a joke, not with the way Míra looked at me. You would think I had one eye and three heads or something.

Or maybe you look like me.

The voice came without warning, the unwanted depth rippling inside me like a stab wound, and I recoiled. I hadn’t heard the haunted voice blossom from inside of me for days. Almost a week, in fact. I hadn’t put words to it, but the hope was there that I was free of it forever. Yet, here he was again, shattering my desire and infecting my mind with a poison that burned within me like acid.

“Ignore it,” Risha said without looking at me, extending her hand to wrap around mine, the silent vow of support as wanted as the way her touch made my insides tango.

“I wish I could,” I said more to myself than to her. After all, the voice was right; it was the reason Míra was afraid of me. It was also the reason I was here.

I carried the image of my father, and she had lived under his rule for months. From what Joclyn’s prescience had shown her, Míra had lived through the same hell as I had. She had lived with the same violence and threats. She had lived through the same brainwashing nightmare.

No one in this camp would understand that. No one in this camp would know how to face that.

No matter how my eyes and curls terrified her, I was the only one who could understand what she had gone through and help her overcome it.

I guessed the dark, broken piece of my subconscious was good for something besides the crazies.

“You can, and you will,” Risha reassured me, her thumb gentle as she ran it over my knuckles. It took everything in me to restrain the shiver that moved up my spine at the touch, my stomach flopping around like a dead fish. “I know you can,” she repeated, her voice soft.

We sat on the rock and rubble, her hand wrapped around mine. I stared at the green in her eyes, at the small amount of freckles that moved over her nose, at her lips and the way they gently arched …

“Are you guys going to kiss?” Jaromir asked from in front of us, bouncing around on his heels a few feet away.

I jumped, and Risha jerked back to reality as I did. Everything around me spun as my heart rate began to slow down, reality catching up with me. I was already missing the dream.

Was it a dream? I couldn’t be sure. But I was definitely having trouble breathing.

“Jaromir!” Risha shrieked, pulling her hand away as she shifted her weight. “I didn’t see you there!”

Jaromir smiled bigger, his teeth flashing as he ran toward us, placing himself between us as heavy and thick as peanut butter.

“I’ve been here the whole time, Risha. We were playing a game… right here in the cathedral …”

“A game that I was betrayed in!” I yelled, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and ruffling his hair.

He yelped in protest, but I didn’t let go. This one, he deserved.

“You’re a dirty little traitor!”

“I did nothing of the sort!” he shrieked, jumping away from us and back over to Míra who glowered at the outburst. The wicked child I had grown used to took over her features.

“Traitor,” I grumbled under my breath, exaggerating my irritation to comical proportions.

Jaromir attempted to look guilty for half a second before breaking out in laughter.

Míra, however, looked between us, her arms wrapped around her torso as unmistakable terror crossed over her face.

Fear.

Fear that I hadn’t seen since that day two weeks ago when we had pulled her out from amongst the dead.

“I wasn’t a traitor, Ryland.” Jaromir giggled, pulling my focus from his haunted sister. “I was a spy. Those are infinitely cooler.”

Now it was my turn to laugh, although Míra didn’t seem to get the joke. Her fright increased, her eyes darting around as if she were looking for a way to escape.

“A spy!” I yelled, trying to keep the joke going while my spine tingled with the sudden change of tension that was affecting the air around us. “That’s just as bad!”

“No, it isn’t, especially when you have magic.” Jaromir laughed again, waving his hands before him. A few stones lifted into the air, dancing amidst the last of the fog before falling back down to the ground with a ripple of sound. “Then you can do anything you want.”

Risha sat next to me as stiffly as a board.

At least I wasn’t the only one to notice Míra’s erratic behavior.

“So, you can change sides whenever you want? Be a bad guy or a good guy at will?” I asked, knowing I was moving into dangerous territory. “And that’s okay?”

“Well, maybe not a bad guy … but I would change sides not to be bad. Definitely,” Jaromir said confidently, sinking down onto the rubble with his legs crisscrossed.

I leaned toward him, rocks crunching beneath me at the shift in weight. “So, are you saying my side was the bad side in our game?”

“No!” Jaromir interjected loudly, forcing out a laugh.

Míra jerked, the same look of fear running over her face.

“You aren’t bad, Ryland. But Míra was on the other team, and she’s family.”

“Edmund is
my
family.” A statement. One simple, horrifying statement that sent a ripple around us, causing Jaromir’s jaw to go slack, his eyes wide, while Míra stiffened like a jolt of electricity moved through her, different waves of horror taking control. “Should I defect to his side?”

“No!” Jaromir jumped to his feet, a new wave of defiance taking me by surprise.

I had never seen him so against my father. Before, he had been interested. Before, he had wanted me to train him like my father had me. Now, he looked as scared of him as his sister did, as scared as if Edmund himself were standing behind me, threatening each of them with death. I didn’t think I was that far off with the way Míra had begun shaking, her jaw so taut I could see the muscles in her neck.

“Edmund is evil!” Jaromir continued, the strength of his shout rippling over the ruins, threatening to bring the rest of the cathedral down around us. Thank goodness the magic Ilyan had put on it so we could still use it as an arena held, though I could hear the stones groan under the weight. “You aren’t evil, Ryland. And neither is Míra.”

“I agree, Jaromir,” Risha said with a smile, leaning forward to ruffle the boy’s always out of control hair. “I don’t think Ry’s bad. And I know Míra isn’t.”

I smiled, expecting the fear to slip off her face and the calm child to take its place. However, her anger grew, erupting inside of her in hatred deeper than we had seen before.

“No,” she said, the single word a slap as she rushed toward her brother, rocks shifting beneath her. “I
am
bad. He made me that way.”

“No,” I started, my heart aching with the truth behind her words, the familiarity hitting me deep. “He didn’t—”

“Ko, nuchín tě xadít!” she interrupted, the loudness of it feeling like a slap.