Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4) (35 page)

The golden ribbon Ilyan wore glinted in the light as it fell over his shoulder, the sign of his royalty available for everyone to see. Ilyan didn’t seem too plagued by it as he calmed his brother, but Thom and Sain kept looking at it curiously, the looks on their faces making it clear that they knew exactly what it was. Wyn, on the other hand, looked right at me, her face torn between awe and confusion. I was one hundred percent sure she knew what it was, and what it meant for me.

“I guess he should have covered his hair, too.” I tried very hard to keep the groan out of my voice as I folded myself over the table, my forehead pressing into the smooth wood of the ancient surface.

“Don’t you worry.” Dramin’s smile stretched the width of his face as he patted my hand comfortingly, his happiness almost infectious. Almost. I felt more embarrassed than anything right then. “Those who know will be happy for you. A bonding as treasured as this should never be a secret, My Lady.”

“My Lady?” I asked as I turned my head to face him, not ready to lift my head off the table yet.

“I suppose Ilyan has woven the length of the royal line through your hair as well?”

I didn’t say anything, I just sat up as my stomach threatened to turn out its contents. I wasn’t quite sure how to answer him; a simple yes would have worked wonders, but a part of me still wanted to keep it all sacred, as Ilyan had said.

I didn’t need to worry. Dramin’s grin increased at the look on my face, the wide smile obviously enough to answer my question.

“Then now you are My Lady, and my Queen. I think it suits you.” Dramin’s voice was soft in my ear as he leaned toward me, his tone deeper, almost respectful. The sound sent a shiver of pleasure and nerves up my spine.

“And how does a true bonding feel, My Lady?” he asked with the same deep voice, his head inclined toward me as if we were involved in some kind of wonderful secret. I guess, in a way, we were.

“Free. Perfect,” I said, my eyes focused on Ilyan as I spoke.

“As it should be. You will find the peace you seek, Silnỳ.”

“I hope you are right, Dramin.”

“I usually am.”

The need to laugh at Dramin’s comment left as a loud bang echoed through the long hall. The sound of Ryland hitting his head was a loud, steady beat as everyone tried to grab his hands. I cringed against the sound, against the agony of his moans as everyone tried to stop him from hurting himself, and Ilyan turned to speak to Sain in an urgent whisper.

I hated watching this. I hated seeing Ryland so broken and Wyn so sad. I wanted them to be whole, and I wanted them to find peace, just as I had.

“I hope you are. I hope we all find what we are looking for,” I whispered, the words truer than I had expected them to be.

They all turned to Sain as Ryland began to cry. Sain’s lips moved as his eyes glossed over with the blackness of sight. My pulse sped at the dark embers in his eyes, my magic flaring so abruptly I jumped.

“You should try to see what he sees, My Lady,” Dramin said as my head whipped toward him in shock.

“Is that possible?”

Dramin had told me of sights received by the group. I had seen them in the sight with Ilyan, and I had felt one with Sain yesterday, but to plug myself into someone else’s sight, like some sort of circuit breaker—I didn’t think I could do that.

“Yes, the Water will let you. The Drak are all connected through the wells of Imdalind, through the water. I am sure your blood felt the connection the moment the sight filled our Tatínek.”

I stifled my gasp as I turned toward the other side of the room, my magic still a gentle current of electricity through me. Although Sain’s eyes had returned to their usual green, I could still feel the pull of my magic, just as Dramin had said.

“Something to work on, eh?” Dramin asked as he drank from his mug, yet I could only nod as Thom slid into the seat beside me, his face stretching as he yawned. Everything about him looked more haggard and angry than usual. I wondered how much longer the drinking had gone on last night, or at the very least, how long they had been trying to calm Ryland down this morning.

“If Ilyan can’t get Ryland under control, we may miss the deadline. If we leave after the sun comes up, it’s going to put us all in danger,” Thom said matter-of-factly as he wound a leather cord around his long brown dreads, placing the clumps in a low ponytail.

“Is that what Father saw?”

Thom nodded at Dramin’s question, his magic surging as he brought the can of artichoke hearts he had been snacking on over to him.

“What’s wrong with Ryland?” I asked, even though I already knew. I felt so many of the same things when I fought my own insanity, felt the same anger pull at me when my emotions surged. When wicked magic got too close.

“Edmund is getting closer, Silnỳ. Ryland can feel it in the air, and it’s affecting his madness the same as it is for you. Same as for everyone. The earth has been screaming for days.” Thom waved the speared artichoke heart toward the never-ending thunderstorm that surrounded us as he spoke.

I cringed. I had felt the pulsing anger for days, and although it had run through me and heightened my agitation, Ryland’s actions seemed more like someone else was pulling the strings. I didn’t want to think of it that way, though, of what else Edmund could be doing to him.

“Although you seem to be coping well. Did you sleep well last night?” Thom’s statement snapped me right back from my reverie, my heart rate picking up as I narrowed my eyes at him.

“What does that mean?” I asked, my voice hard as I glared into him. Thom didn’t seem to care, however. He grunted, looked away, and plopped another artichoke in his mouth. I narrowed my eyes at him in expectation of an answer, but he dutifully ignored me.

It was probably best he didn’t answer me; it was just as Dramin had said, everyone had seen the ribbon in Ilyan’s hair. They already knew, and Thom was just as good as anyone at pointing out things he shouldn’t.

I sighed grumpily and looked away from him, my eyes pulling me right back to Ilyan who now had his eyes closed, his hand placed over Ryland’s temples.

“You seem to really care for Ryland,” Dramin whispered, his voice low. I didn’t even turn to look at him. I kept my focus on Ilyan, knowing that Dramin’s worry was misplaced.

“He was my best friend, Dramin,” I said, the truth of the word ‘was’ painful on my tongue. “Beyond that—anything we had before—those feelings are gone.”

Ilyan’s hands dropped from the sides of Ryland’s head as he finished binding his emotions and memories. Ryland’s eyes opened as he shook his sagging curls, his body seeming somewhat limp and deflated. Sain and Wyn moved right up to him, helping Ry to stand before they swept him from the room, their departure a silent signal, the last knoll before we plunged into the forest to fight our way out.

Ilyan stood as they did and walked toward us, his face dark and stoic. My nerves cringed against what I knew was coming, the words he was preparing already circulating through my head. He walked up right behind me, his magic that lived within me warming the closer he got until it sparked into a pleasant fire at the pressure of his hand against my shoulder. I sighed at the contact, hating the hoodie that dampened the warmth I was so used to feeling.

“Are you well enough to travel, Dramin?” Ilyan asked, his voice deep as it spread through the room.

“I can walk, if that’s what you are asking,” Dramin chuckled as he drained his mug before placing it in a large knapsack he had set on the floor beside him. “Although for how long, and how fast, has yet to be seen.”

“I will help him, Ilyan.” Thom shoved his hands into his pockets as he stood, accusation and humor shining behind his eyes as he looked at me, though he stayed silent. It was probably best; with Thom his comments were either overly sharp or terribly rude. Neither of which were needed this close to fleeing the abbey and facing the armies that lay in wait.

When Dramin wobbled as he leaned against Thom, my heart bumped so hard against my chest that it was a pain that shot through me. He was so weak, I wasn’t even sure he could walk, let alone fight. Or escape. My throat closed up at the thought.

“Congratulations, may the wells of Imdalind follow your union,” Dramin whispered, nodding his head reverently toward us before he turned to go, Thom careful to lead him away.

“My Lord. My Lady,” Thom said, his voice deep as they walked out the door toward stage one of the plan that Ilyan had burned into my mind.

“Why am I not surprised?” Ilyan chuckled into the silence of the empty room as I pulled myself to standing.

You should have hidden your hair.

“And wear a hoodie? Not for me.”

“I’m sure I could find a magazine that would tell you otherwise.”

“Hmmm, Spanish magazines were never my forte,” Ilyan sighed as his arm wrapped around me, guiding me from the room.

I walked by Ilyan’s side as we made our way down the hall, Sain supporting Ryland just in front of us. We had only walked down one hall before we turned into a large courtyard, the shadows of light and dark that filled the open space as haunting as the forks of fire that lit up the sky while the thunder shook the earth.

One of the trees just within the forest line caught fire as the lightening hit it, the dried wood bursting into flames as the earth greeted us. The fire spread in a wall of rampant energy, my vision flashing as more fire infiltrated my thoughts. I shook my head to clear the sight and watched the trees burn, the omen of what was to come burning through my blood.

“We will part here,” Ilyan announced, his arms still enclosed around me as everyone turned at our arrival, their faces as hard and stressed as the blood that flowed through my veins.

Thom nodded toward us before continuing to lead Dramin into the forest, his goodbyes already said, and even if they weren’t, I had an idea that he wouldn’t have said anything more anyway. Sain moved toward me, his pace slow after having helped Ryland to sit on one of the many benches that littered the large courtyard.

“I hope this choice you two have made does not affect the outcome of the sight.” The timbre of Sain’s voice changed as he looked at me, disapproval bleeding with disgust as his eyes glared into me.

Ilyan’s muscles rippled underneath me as he looked at my father. I could feel his stress roll through me, my own matching it as I narrowed my eyes at him, my back stiffening as I made to step toward him. I didn’t know if I wanted to yell, or scream, or berate him until he vanished to smoke. I just couldn’t handle this, not anymore. If he wasn’t going to support me then I didn’t want him around.

Ilyan’s arm wound around my waist before I could make my move, his strong grip keeping me against him, knowing what I had in mind. My frustrations didn’t lessen at Ilyan’s touch, however. If anything, they only heightened, Ilyan’s own irritation fueling it.

“We have made this choice of our own accord, Sain,” Ilyan rumbled, his voice growing dangerous as he stood his ground. “As her father, we request your respect for her choice, and your blessing if you would give it.”

I would have expected Sain to stand down—to wilt under the power of Ilyan’s voice—but he stayed straight, his chin rising as his eyes darkened. I wanted to cringe away from the look in his eyes, knowing what was coming, but I couldn’t move, and my anger wouldn’t let me look away.

“I will not,” Sain spat. “The length of the royal line was not in the sight, Ilyan.”

My blood froze as my sight flashed, image after image shooting through the darkness of my vision. They were sights that I had seen before, that I had seen too many times over the last few days, and in not one of them was my hair braided. In not one was Ilyan wearing his ribbon.

He was right; there were no ribbons, but last night… I had received that sight as well. I had seen Ilyan place the ribbons in my hair; I had received a sight of our bonding. I had felt the power of that sight last night as I lay wrapped in Ilyan’s arms. The sights should match up. If everything Sain said was right, they should match up.

Something was missing. The sights were scattered and broken, just as Sain had warned. I just didn’t understand why.

What does it mean, Ilyan,
I sent him as I glared into my father, my distrust of him keeping my glare in place.

I do not know.

“I warned you,” Sain said, the words that could have so easily been a threat sounding more desperate, as if he feared the end of the world.

Sain said no more before he walked back to Ryland who had fallen asleep against the bench Sain had left him on.

“What are we going to do?” I asked once Sain was out of earshot, my hand tightening around Ilyan’s.

“Follow the plan,” Ilyan almost growled. “We have to trust that all the sights are correct. You saw our bonding. Sain saw your victory. Both will come to pass.”

He spoke like he believed it, but I knew he didn’t, not anymore. I could hear the doubt and fear wind through him, his mind working tirelessly through the thousands of other options and commands he could give.

None of which he would.

I grit my teeth and looked away from him, knowing now was not the time to question him.

Wyn stood just across the courtyard from me, her body stiff as she watched me. She jerked forward like she wanted to run to me, like she needed to say something, anything. Neither of us moved, our words trapped deep inside. Her focus lingered on me as she removed her shoes and placed them in her backpack, the large, dark orbs of her eyes saying what I didn’t want to hear, what she couldn’t say.

What I couldn’t say.

I couldn’t bring myself to say the words that would come next; to say goodbye.

When we had charged into Ryland’s manor, we had been outnumbered, but not to this extent, and there was something in the air that made everything feel more final.

More like the end.

I pinched my eyes shut at the thought, blocking Wyn from view as I pulled at my recall, the visions from the sight filling me, image after image of Ilyan fighting by my side, Ilyan screaming as he held my body, the stones of the abbey in the background.