Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4) (15 page)

I took a big gulp of the water in relief, only to gag when the tasteless mass hit my stomach. My body revolted, heaving as it tried to get the imposter out of me. I don’t know why I hadn’t checked, why I had assumed. Wyn hadn’t given me Black Water; it was regular water. It tasted like sand and moldy bread against my tongue, and it felt the same in my stomach. I hadn’t expected my body to have that kind of reaction, and I certainly wasn’t ready for what came next. My stomach heaved, and I turned to the side, my body expelling the mass in a bubbly mix of water and stomach acid.

“God, Jos, are you okay?” Wyn exclaimed, her body jumping away in disgust.

“Th-that’s wat-ter-r,” I managed to get out before my body embarrassed me again, more yellow acid spreading away from me and over the feathers that covered the stone floor.

“Well, duh, I told you I was getting water,” Wyn shrieked, her voice finally sounding like herself for once.

“I m-mean… it-t’s w-wat-ter.” I moved toward the wall, pressing my head against the cold stone in hope that the chill would stop my body from rebelling against me further. I wasn’t sure it was going to get the message, though; everything still felt like I had eaten a live fish. At least the anxiety had lessened to a manageable level. My stomach hadn’t reacted like that when I had forced down the mushrooms in Isola Santa. I wondered what the difference was.

“Yeah,” Wyn said in oblivious confusion.

I lifted my eyes to her, my body suddenly feeling extraordinarily heavy in understanding.

She didn’t know.

“Dude, is everything okay?” she asked again as her magic ran from her in a bright streak of red, the powerful surge burning away most of the mess I had just made.

I nodded at her and dumped the rest of the poisonous water over the smoldering remains of feathers and vomit, letting it run in long rivulets somewhere under the destroyed bed and away from us, thankfully taking the smell with it. I watched them run away as I placed my hand over the rim of the mug, the Black Water refilling immediately. I don’t know why Wyn had given me regular water in a mug that was made for Black, but no harm done. Well, besides a little bit of vomit.

I took a long drink and let the water supercharge me, taking my crazed emotions and settling them, letting the stress melt away until I felt a little less like a mental patient.

I looked up to Wyn, expecting that same opened-mouth wonder that Ilyan had given me. But, she just shook her head, a small smile playing around her lips, almost as if she had expected it.

“I guess we both have our secrets, huh?” she said as her body folded to sit right in front of me.

“What?”

“Never mind,” she sighed, her voice sounding oddly deep in my ears. “If I would have known it wasn't only Ilyan having a freak-out, I would have come sooner.”

“Where is Ilyan? I need to see him; I need to apologize,” I asked, my nerves prickling as I said his name.

I grabbed Wyn’s hand as I stood, ready to beg her to take me, but she didn’t even move. She only stared at me from where she sat, a giant smile plastered on her lips.

“You
do
love him,” she sighed, her voice practically melting around the words. “Thom said so, but I didn’t—”

“Wyn,” I groaned in interruption, really not wanting to go into this right now. “I need to see him.”

I looked down at her, my eyes pleading as I clung to her hand, desperate to go, and yet she still didn't move.

“He's not here, Jos,” Wyn said, the love-struck, teenager look on her face melting away. “He left after his little fit; probably to go destroy something else after he collapsed the cathedral on the other side of the grounds.”

“Destroy…” I began, unable to get out more than just the one word.

“Yeah, I thought it was weird. I mean, he helped to build this place back in the eleventh century, and he has spent most of his time restoring it since he purchased it in the eighteen-twenties.”

Guilt. Raw, violent, never-ending guilt slammed into me, taking my breath away. I just wanted to run away and cry and disappear, but I wasn't sure how that would help.

I slid down the wall. Specks of white fluff exploded into the air in a flurry of soft, warm snow at the abrupt movement, each feather feeling like a stab of pain in my chest. He had destroyed a chapel, and by the sound of it, it wasn't just any chapel; it had been a place that had meant something to Ilyan. It had been a treasured part of his past.

“What happened between you two?” Wyn asked as she sat down next to me, that same deeper strain still polluting her voice.

“We had a fight.” I still wasn’t sure how to categorize it.

“Oh, yes, that I heard. In fact, I think everyone heard. You went at it like a newlywed couple battling over toothpaste squeezing positions,” Wyn said lightly. The comment was innocent enough, however I could hear the implications behind it, and I blushed.

We had fought like newlyweds, like lovers, like a couple. I guess in a way that was right. In oh so many ways it was what we had become; it was what we had always been meant to be. Maybe that’s why it was only my anger, not my heart, that had said those things. That’s why it hurt so much now that he was gone.

“Everyone heard?” I asked, my voice soft.

“Oh, yes,” she said with a smile. “I wouldn’t be too worried, though. You should have heard some of the fights Talon and I had after…” The perky tone of her voice left as her voice faded to nothing, the mention of his name setting my own heart into an overactive hyperdrive.

She didn't need to explain her pain, her loss; I could feel it. I could feel it in the way her magic sagged as she spoke his name. I could sense it in the heat of his magic that lived inside of her, deep down in her belly. I desperately wanted to tell her that Talon's magic was still with her, tell her how much I hurt for her, but I didn’t know if I should.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered, not knowing if it was the right thing to say or even if she wanted to hear it.

“I felt so lost after my mother was murdered…” I began, regretting the words almost instantly. I shouldn’t have even said anything. I still didn’t really want to talk about my loss, and I was sure Wyn felt the same.

I brought my knees into my chest, wrapping my arms around them as I tried to fight the pain of the loss, the memories still a blistering branding iron against my heart. We sat still, side by side, lost in our own misery as the feathers settled while the last of daylight left.

“Edmund kept us in the old prison in Prague,” Wyn said suddenly, her words soft as she spoke toward her toes, her voice distanced as she became lost in thought. “Talon got sick… He just didn't make it out… It's okay, though. I killed my father for what he did to him. I will make Edmund pay for what he did to Talon, to Cail…”

I jumped at the sound of his name, my hands winding through my long strands of hair as the insanity battled for control.

“I'm sorry he did that to you, Jos. I wish I could have stopped it. I tried…” Her voice trailed off again as I turned to look at her. Her dark eyes widened as I looked into her pain, sure she could see the madness in mine.

Our eyes met in silence, neither knowing what to say before she broke the stare, her hands writhing in her lap, her thumb continually rubbing over a scar on her hand that I hadn't seen before.

“He hurt us, too, Jos,” she whispered, as if that made it all better, yet it didn’t. It only confused me more.

I thought I had understood all about turning the other cheek and being understanding and forgiving, though I had never assumed I could feel so much bitter hatred as I did for Cail.

“Then why do you want to avenge him? Because he was your brother?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I don’t see what’s complicated about it,” I said, my voice hard and angry as I stared her down. “He trapped me in his mind, tried to kill me. I c-can’t-t cl-lose my eyes w-with… with-out… without-t—”

I stopped abruptly, my nerves tingling at the memories as the insanity tried to take over. I pushed it away only to have my vision sway, the familiar swimming in my head rushing through me. My hands flew to my head as I pressed against my scalp, trying to block out the sight, my chest heaving as I tried to will some of the sweet-smelling fumes from the bathroom into my lungs.

I am bigger than it.

I breathed deep as Wyn placed her hand against my back, the warmth shocking as the heat of her magic warmed my skin. I gasped at the feeling, the difference from the icy cold I had felt before alarming.

“It’s okay, Jos,” Wyn soothed as she rubbed my back. I focused on the touch—on the memories of before—and felt the anxiety seep away into nothing. “I know. I know what he can do. I’ve known my whole life. He beat Talon and tortured Ryland until he broke while the only thing that kept Ryland together was Sain. I think Sain is the only thing that is still keeping him together.”

I knew I shouldn’t be surprised. I had seen the way my dad had comforted Ryland, the look of pity on his face as Ilyan dragged me away. I guess now I understood it. I had tried to kill his precious prince.

I gritted my teeth and looked away from Wyn, my eyes falling on the small sliver of glinting red that shone through the feathers. I wanted to take it and throw it against the wall, shatter it into a million pieces. I didn’t need a piece of Ryland’s heart anyway.

“Well, then maybe he can be Ryland’s dad,” I hissed the words out, the anger that I thought had left me coming back so fast I wasn’t sure where it had been hiding.

“Jos?” Wyn asked, her voice so soft I barely heard her.

I clenched my teeth as I breathed in shakily, trying to control the anger, but once again, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to. I closed my eyes as I pushed it away, only to have the image of Ilyan’s face after I had snapped at him coming right to the surface. I gasped at the image, the anger leaving as a shard of my broken heart stabbed uncomfortably through my chest.

“I’m s-sorry… I sho-ouldn’t have said-d that. It’s j-just… after last night… when I tried to kill Ryland. He didn’t help me. He went to Ryland,” I said, my voice choking through the emotions.

“I know,” she admitted, the response taking me off guard. I had almost expected her to erupt at my blatant admission of my attempt at Ryland’s life. “I wanted to go help Sain calm him down after Ilyan dragged you off.”

“You helped Sain?” I asked as I leaned toward her, the words accusatory and harsh, but I didn’t try to hide it.

“Yeah, Jos, we are like bosom buddies now,” she said as she winked at me, her face breaking into a wide smile that I wasn’t sure how to interpret. I narrowed my eyes at her in question, but she just sighed and leaned against the wall. “It’s hard to keep Ryland calm after everything they did to him. Sain spent so much time with him, so he’s the only one who can keep him calm…”

I looked away from her, my jaw tensing as I threw myself onto the hard floor, the feathers billowing around me instead of cushioning my fall as I had hoped.

I didn’t want to hear what she had to say. It felt like I was in some kind of Ryland intervention, and she was getting out all the reasons why I should forgive him and go back to the way things were. I just didn’t want to hear it. It wasn’t like I didn’t care because part of me still did. Part of me wanted him to be happy, just not in the way he wanted. I couldn’t be with him, not anymore.

It was like when you had a reoccurring dream of falling. Every night for months you fell off the same building. You were screaming, and no one could stop you from the impact that would wake you up in a cold sweat, your chest heaving. It happened for years, and then, one day you would find yourself face to face with that building. You wouldn’t go in. No one would.

Just like I couldn’t look at Ryland the same way. Even for those brief moments when my mind was clear, I couldn’t see beyond the nightmares that he had given me.

Sometimes you just fall out of love. Sometimes you can’t be with someone who hurts you.

“Your dad loves you, you know,” Wyn whispered into the silence.

I sighed at her words, but I didn’t move from where I lay among the feathers.

“He has a funny way of showing it. The only thing he has really said to me is that I am supposed to save the world.”

I cringed at the thought, not liking the reminder of the fight that was knocking down our door. I could still feel the angry pulse of the Trpaslíks, reminding me that as soon as tomorrow, I could be forced into a battle I wasn’t ready to fight. That I knew I would lose without Ilyan.

“That’s the Drak in him talking.” She said it like that made it all better, and I guess to her it did. Not to me.

To me, I was still harboring that image of my father that I had been clinging to from when I was five. The dad who would give me pony-back rides, chase bugs with me, and read me bedtime stories. I knew it wouldn’t be the same, but I had at least expected him to care more about me than about my abusive ex-boyfriend.

“Yeah, well, I have Drak in me, too, but you don’t see me telling Ilyan to bring me crumpets,” I said, trying to ignore the guilt that mixed with the gentle swoop in my stomach as I said his name.

“Ah… so that’s why he tore apart the chapel. Ilyan hates crumpets.” Wyn laughed as she came to lie down next to me, her body pressing against mine as her movement sent feathers flying over me. I hacked and sputtered as they flew over my nose and tried to wiggle into my mouth.

Wyn laughed and pushed more toward me, but the attempt at playing was only halfhearted. My soul was too sore for me to focus on much else.

I gasped as the words came to mind, the realization almost so simple I felt stupid for not realizing it, and even more stupid for not having done something to stop it. Ilyan held part of my soul and I part of his.

No wonder everything hurt.

Ten

I lay with Wyn among the feathers, the gentle breeze from the windows picking them up and swirling them over our heads in a blizzard of stars and cotton down.

We hadn’t said a word for the last few minutes. We had merely lain in silence as I continually searched for Ilyan, my magic stretching as I sought out his magic, his soul. I searched for any sign that he was still alive, but I felt nothing. The thought only frightened me more, yet I kept it locked up, too scared to put words to my fears.