Scorched Treachery (32 page)

Don’t let me see him. I will kill him if I see him.

I balked at her words, my jaw loosening in shock. I could hear the truth behind them, the conviction in her tones. She truly believed what she was saying. It couldn’t be. I wished I could blame her misplaced intentions on what the imitation of Ryland had done to her in the Tȍuha, but I had heard Ovailia’s words. Edmund had intentionally marred them both, making them weapons against each other. Joclyn’s words only confirmed it.

I struggled to keep my anger restrained. The pain of hearing Wynifred’s screams, of losing Talon, mixing with the anger I felt at what Edmund had done to Joclyn and Ryland before it threatened to explode. He had manipulated them for his own use.

“Joclyn…” I began, unsure of what to say.

I can do it. Take me to her.

I said nothing. I didn’t know what else could be said. Joclyn only looked at me for a second before closing her eyes, her hand wrapping firmly around mine as she stood, her body bent and crippled from the torture her mind had gone through.

Wyn yelled again, and I knew I couldn’t wait. I wrapped my arm around Joclyn, bringing her close against me as I led her through the door.

Sain and Ryland stiffened when I brought her in, both men taking a step toward her in longing. Both men drawn to her for different reasons. I shook my head at them frantically, hoping they would understand. Ryland still attempted to move toward me, but Sain wrapped his hand around Ryland’s strong bicep, bringing him back against him.

“Do you remember when we took her to the beach?” Thom’s voice was soft as he tried to keep Wynifred calm with memories of her long forgotten past. He didn’t notice us until we were right in front of him, Joclyn’s body moving toward Wynifred as if she sensed exactly where she was.

Thom sat back as Joclyn fell on top of her friend, her torso draping over Wynifred’s, her hands extending to cover the moving marks on her arm. I could feel Joclyn’s magic surge at the touch, the air around her sending a powerful aura right into me. I felt the surge a moment before everyone else could see it.

The air around Joclyn rippled as her magic continued to swell. She pulled the magic out of the air, the stone, and the earth. She brought it into her, using the power as she would her own, her control
, above any I had ever seen.

The air continued to ripple visibly, the breath of everyone held in place as they watched. Silence filled the room as
Joclyn’s body and magic smothered Wynifred’s pain. Even with the energy Joclyn was channeling, the marks still moved on Wyn’s arms, the curse still seeping into her heart in an effort to kill her.

“N-n-need m-more.” Joclyn’s voice was quiet, her magic straining as she began to sweat.

I moved closer to her, my body hovering over hers as I leaned down to whisper in her ear. I could see Ryland shift uncomfortably at my close proximity, his intent to injure me obvious. Without Sain and Thom there to restrain him, he probably would have.

“Use me, take it through the Štít,” I whispered softly, not wanting Ryland or Sain to hear.

I began to push my magic into her, the full strength of it filling her for one moment before she grabbed it and pushed it into Wynifred. As soon as she did, I could feel Wynifred, feel the curse, but I could also feel that my magic was not fully mine. I could feel it. I could recognize what it was doing, but it was Joclyn who controlled it.

“M...more...
Il...Ilyan...” Her voice dropped as she began to pant, the work involved in healing Wyn becoming too much for her.

I looked away from her to the three men at the other side of the room. They watched our actions, fear, amazement, and anger spread across each of their faces. I knew what my next action would mean to Ryland, to Sain, but it had to be done.

I moved Joclyn’s hair out of the way, shifting it around her neck to reveal the raised dragon shaped brand on her neck. The kiss stared at me from her smooth skin as I unwrapped my bandaged hand, letting the smooth covering fall to the floor and revealing the angry red scar of the burn.

I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t look to the gasps that sounded as they each recognized the angry red marks that covered the palm of my hand. I lowered my body to press against Joclyn’s back, my hand hovering over the mark for just a moment before I lowered it onto her skin.

The razor sharp jolt sprung through our bodies simultaneously, the connection the Black Water had forged between us coming to life and combining with the jolt from the kiss. Our voices called out in harmony as the shock the connection forged between us rippled through our bodies. I could feel Joclyn’s exertion, her weakness, and her mad need to heal her friend. But more than that, I could feel our mingled magic surging strong through Wynifred. The amount of power rushing into her should have been enough to kill her instantly, but somehow Joclyn controlled it. Joclyn maintained the magical pulse and Wynifred’s life in perfect harmony.

The black marks on Wynifred’s arm that had been moving into her heart were fast, but strangely, Joclyn was faster. She moved seamlessly in a way that even I would not have been able to. Her power was obviously beyond even that which I had been born with.

I opened my eyes; the three men staring in amazement as Wyn’s marks not only stopped moving, but also began to fade from her skin.

Hold me.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I looked away from the three pairs of eyes that stared at us and wrapped my free hand around Joclyn’s waist, keeping my scarred hand against her mark as I brought her body against me.

No sooner had I pressed myself against her back than both girls began to scream, their voices matched in pitch, the sound ringing out like a song rather than the agonizing pain I could feel mirrored in my own body.

The scream ended only moments after it had come. Joclyn gasped for breath before she rocked away from Wynifred’s body and threw both of us away from the bed.

Wynifred’s yell lasted for a moment longer before her mouth opened wider, her jaw extended like a cat on the hunt. She writhed on the bed, her back arching eerily before her body released a plume of black smoke. It spewed from her gaping mouth like the steam from an engine, the blackness rising and curling dangerously into the air before disappearing.

I held Joclyn’s body against mine, my eyes darting down to Wyn, whose body was relaxed and her marks all but gone. No one dared to move, least of all me. We all knew just by looking that Joclyn had done something even I couldn’t.

Cover my eyes.

I did as she asked, recognizing the change that was coming over her. Her body stiffened and her head spun within me. Her breathing picked up as her mind was filled with a sight, her spine tensing for only a moment before she spoke.

“T-take th...the l-left.” Her deep voice filled the room. Thom barely looked at her before rushing back to Wyn’s side.

Sain’s eyes widened as he pieced together what had just had happened, but Ryland hadn’t seemed to notice, he just looked at her with that desperate longing in his eyes again. I’m not even sure he realized that there was something different in her voice.

I looked at Sain, pleading with him not to say anything, to keep this secret. I still wasn’t sure I could trust Ryland. I needed to keep Joclyn safe, and letting this get out would not help her.

Sain nodded once in understanding, the action letting my muscles relax.

“She’s fine.” Thom’s voice cut through my silent exchange, bringing us all back to what had just happened. “Joclyn healed her.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I brought her body into mine, keeping her close to me.

I told you I could.

I jerked my eyes back down to her. Her eyes were still closed, and her face was pressed against my chest. She could have been sleeping. I slowly removed my finger from the mark, allowing the connection to begin to fade from my mind. I wished I knew how she was doing that, how she was filling my mind with her voice. No one had ever managed anything past crude pictures – not since the first were born from the mud. But to hear her voice, without the stutter, inside my mind… It was as beautiful as she was.

She was amazing.

Thank you.

Twenty-Eight

Fireflies
.

When I was growing
up, I thought fireflies were magic. I thought they were like fairies. I would try to catch them in jars and take them home to convince them to grant my wish.

I was four when I caught my first one. I had put him in a glass jar and watched him glow as he fluttered and banged against the glass. He was going to grant my wish. My father had sat with me and run his finger over the glass, the firefly drawn to him. When my father’s finger was there,
the firefly didn’t bang his head against the glass anymore; he just followed my father’s finger.

Dad asked me what my wish was, but at four all I could think of was a pony, a pony and the ability to fly. My father smiled and told me that magic was inside of you, not in bugs. I asked him if I had magic then, and he got that face that parents get when they
are caught in a lie. I knew it then, that magic wasn’t real, but I didn’t care.

I had laughed as we set my little firefly free, sad for the loss of a wish but happy that the bug was free.

It was one of my only memories of my father.

Then
, many years later, I found out what magic really was. And just like the firefly, I wished I could just open the jar and let it go free.

I still wanted to think of fireflies as magic. I watched them as they danced outside the window of Ilyan’s room, and I wanted to dance with them, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t
move my body out of the heavy blanket I had found on the couch. I was too scared to move from the small alcove of stone that looked out onto the balcony.

So I watched the fireflies, and I felt my magic surge and flow through the air, the power wild and unrestrained within me.

My magic flew away from me as I watched, desperate to be out of the small container my body provided it. It flowed through the air and over the yards of the Abbey like water. It fanned away from me and brought back signs and signals from everyone around me.

I could feel the armies that surrounded us and their eagerness for a battle that they knew was coming. I could feel Thom’s joy as he sat next to Wyn, closeted up in his room where I had left them only a few minutes before. I could feel Wyn’s sadness at losing her mate. I wished I could tell her that I could still feel Talon inside of her, but I didn’t dare speak. Not yet.

I had sat with them as Wyn woke up, my eyes closed as I hid myself in Ilyan’s chest. I could feel them all around me. I could feel my father’s magic, I could feel everything. In that tiny room, I was trapped.

As soon as Wyn woke, the questions came, the voices all sounding at once. They asked questions and demanded answers, their voices growing louder and panicking me. The touching followed, my father’s hands on my skin in excitement, Thom reaching out to me in thanks, and though I understood their desires, my body curled into itself. I couldn’t stop the howling that escaped from my chest.

I pushed myself into Ilyan, the only security I knew, and let his comfort take the fear away. I wasn’t ready to talk to any of them. I wasn’t ready to look into my father’s eyes and relive all that had happened since he had left. So instead, my father had hugged me as I sat on Ilyan’s lap and whispered in my ear how much he loved me. Ilyan had passed on my words to him before taking me from the room.

I had crawled to the balcony after he left me, my movements slow as the twitches kept coming, my heart thumping as it continued to struggle with reality.

I kept my magic trained on Ilyan as I watched the fireflies. I pulled his magic through the Štít in desperation, trying to feel his comfort, to feel safe. His magic was the reminder that I was okay.

Everything was getting clearer, but I still hadn’t broken free. I didn’t think I ever would.

I could feel the pulse of Ilyan’s magic from where he stood with Sain as they healed his son, my brother. I could feel Ilyan’s emotions, the heightened connection giving me access to loose pieces of his thoughts. Ilyan was nervous about me, he wanted to leave, but he was fighting it, knowing he needed to stay there too, that he had responsibilities that he could not ignore.

I felt Ilyan’s anxiety as Sain began to tell him all that had happened. His anxiety triggered my
own; my magic surging through him as my own peaked, confusing me as to whether I should calm him or myself.

If I focused, I could hear their conversation. I could pretend to be well enough to be around them but they weren’t alone. There
was someone else with them. I knew that if I heard his voice, I couldn’t be sure what I would do.

Ilyan
.

I let my magic grow and sent my voice into his head, the word traveling through the Štít and into him. I wasn’t sure how I had done it the first time. I had sat huddled on the floor as Wyn screamed, and I could feel my magic grow into something that it hadn’t been before. I looked into Ilyan’s eyes and my soul had told me what to do. It didn’t take more of a thought than that.

I felt Ilyan’s excitement increase at my message, his thoughts changing from stress over what he was being told toward me, his thoughts heavy with worry.

I’m fine, Ilyan.

A moment passed as he talked, but soon his thoughts were torn between wondering what I needed and trying to focus on what Sain was telling him.

I stayed still as I felt the ebb and flow of Ilyan’s emotions, small words of his thoughts filtering through. I didn’t know what had caused me to call to
him; I knew he would come when he was done. I could feel that conviction inside of him already. Besides, I had my fireflies to keep me company.

My body shook the longer I sat, my hands twitching underneath the blanket. I could feel the anxiety rise, the uncertainty taking over. I focused on the panic, trying to calm it, but knowing it would come no matter what I did.

My tension grew, but Ilyan’s song filled my mind, the thought flowing from Ilyan into me, my own lips following suit as I whispered the words to myself. The anxiety I had felt lessened as Ilyan’s magic filled me from a distance.

The song ended just as the door creaked open as he entered a few minutes later. I knew it was Ilyan, but I couldn’t stop the tension from filling my joints or the way
my head moved toward my chest. I kept my body still against the stone of the wall as I felt Ilyan’s magic move closer to me, the ebbs growing as he calmed me.

I turned my eyes enough to watch as he sat next to me, his legs crossed beneath him, just far enough away that I couldn’t touch him easily. I curled into myself instinctively, part of me wishing I wouldn’t. I could hear that part of me scream for his contact, but the jitters begged otherwise.

Even through the fear, I still wanted to touch him. I pushed the thought away, choosing instead to focus on his blue eyes and how they dug into me, the way his fingers twitched in desperation to touch me, and the way his lips turned up in a calm joy when I looked at him.

I watched him, and I felt the tension leave, my heart rate slow. Not for the first time, just the sight of him calmed me.

“Ilyan,” I breathed, my voice calm. I wasn’t sure I could manage more than that one word though.

He smiled at the sound of his name on my tongue, his magic surging in response.

“Are you talking now?” he asked, his voice a cross between amusement and worry.

No.

I sent the one word into his mind, but instead of sadness, he only smiled. I didn’t see what was so funny, but he obviously did. I wrapped my hands around myself, my body tensing at what that smile could mean. It was nothing. It had to be nothing but happiness.

I will only talk to you.

Ilyan smiled again, his gaze darting away from mine to his hands before coming back to rest on me, the soft blue light of his eyes glossed over.

“And, I will
cherish every second of your voice that you give me.”

He smiled again, the warmth of his face seeping into me, soothing my nerves. My body loosened a bit, and I couldn’t help but let my own small smile filter onto my face. A smile. It felt weird and foreign on my face. I had forgotten what it felt like. I had forgotten what happiness felt like.

“Y…you w-w-will?” My smile left as the stutter took over, the shake of my voice taking my newfound happiness away.

“I will,” he sighed, his body shifting to move closer to me. His knees pressed against the heavy blanket I had covered myself with. I focused on the pressure, leaning into it. I leaned into the warmth I felt from his touch and the ripples of heat coming
off his body, my body hovering precariously away from the pressure the alcove provided me.

“How are you feeling?”

My eyes widened at his question, at the barely concealed worry behind it. I don’t know why, but his worry seemed to calm me. Just knowing how much he cared seemed to steady my frayed nerves.

I’m not sure if I am fine or if I am broken.

“It’s okay to be both, Joclyn.” He sighed, his hand moving to rest against my cheek, but it wasn’t skin I felt. I turned my head toward him in confusion, my eyes narrowing at the heavy bandage he had covered his hand with.

My heart beat quickly at seeing it there. Ilyan had hurt himself. For the first time, I worried about what had happened while I had been trapped in hell, while I had been tortured. Ilyan had been injured. Heavy emotions swirled through me, once forgotten and now foreign, as I began to remove the heavy bandage.

Ilyan’s heart quickened as I removed the covering, my breathing shaking as the angry red marks came into view. The red welts stood up from his hand like a burn, but the skin was still wet in places.

What happened?
I asked, my fear for him overriding my personal demons for the moment. He didn’t need to tell me. I could see the moment replayed in his head, the horrors of those last moments in my hell a swirl of color and fear in his eyes.

This is how you brought me back? The Black Water?

He nodded once, and I pulled the hand toward me, my back arching as I brought the scars against my face, another mark that Ilyan would bear forever, another scar he had taken for me.

Thank you.

“Haven’t I told you enough? I would do anything for you.”

His voice was so soft I barely heard him. I leaned toward him as I pressed his hand against me, his magic pulsing through me. It was so warm and delicate, within me. I could feel it reach into every part of me, cradling me
as if I was something precious, which is how I knew he looked at me.

I could feel his emotions whisper it to me now. I could feel his heart
ache; his love for me that was always held behind the strict barriers of what he felt was right, broke through, and bared between us. I stared at him as his thoughts and emotions swirled toward me.

Then
, they changed. He second-guessed himself somewhere along the way, his emotions withdrawing and his insecurities taking their place.

As his doubts and fears took hold of him, they also seeped into me. I moved away from him. I wanted that feeling back, that love that I had felt emanating from him only a moment ago. I felt my heart hunger for it, need it.

What’s wrong?
I asked, unable to keep my worry inside of me, not wanting to let it change into something else if I held it back.

I should have tried harder to keep my thoughts at bay. Ilyan looked at me with pain in his eyes, his mind pouring out his sadness before his mouth even opened. His first word brought the panic I had kept at bay until this point.