Crown of Cinders (Imdalind Series Book 7) Read online

  “No,” I gasped, my mind running the gambit of what this could mean. The same worries and concerns I could feel in Ilyan echoed inside me.

  “Huh?” All sign of humor was gone from Wyn now. Her face twisted up as she looked between us. “Can we please not use the whole internal mind jabber right now? Your faces are kind of freaking me out.”

  I turned toward her, not wanting to break the news that would affect her more than it had me. Edmund had done the same to her brother, after all.

  Ilyan nodded once before stepping into the center of the small circle, his long braid falling down the center of his back. The long, golden ribbon he wore extended to his toes. My own wound throughout the intricate braid he had given me this morning. I wished the braid I had placed in his hair could match. Thank goodness Ilyan was a patient teacher. I would get there.

  “They have found something near her heart, similar to where Edmund placed his Štít within Cail.” Ilyan’s voice was even and powerful as he addressed the four of us. I could feel his power ripple off him, the energy from him seeping into me.

  “Edmund put a Štít in a child?” Wyn said with a snap, her magic moving amidst the confined space, drowning me. “Again?”

  I gasped at the intensity, at the anger that had weaved its way around it, steeling my magic in preparation for who knew what. I was also aware I couldn’t take her on if it came to that.

  The whole “explode on contact” thing was going to be irritating after a while.

  “No, Wyn, Edmund put a Štít in a weapon.” Ryland’s voice was a death knell as he stared into the darkness of the alley somewhere over my head, his eyes so shaded my heart skipped a beat. A jolt of electricity moved within me as my mind went to the exact same place as his. To the same place that little girl had come from: the hell that Edmund had put inside our minds. “It wasn’t a coincidence,” Ryland continued, his voice pinched as he narrowed his eyes on the alley behind us, as if the overgrown passage between the hospital and outer wall had offended him. “Father sent her here. I’ve seen this before,” His voice was still a hollow shell, although he was in control of himself far more than I had seen him lately when concerning his father.

  “So have I,” Wyn admitted, all signs of the goofball teenager gone now. “It was one of the first things we did before I killed the Drak—put a Štít in one of the younger ones … took control.”

  I shuddered and fought the need to step behind Ilyan. Instead, I straightened my spine and gritted my teeth in anxious worry. It was something unmissed by Ilyan who turned toward me, a small smile playing on his lips while his eyes danced with pride. The same emotion circled into each of us before the concern came back ten-fold.

  “That’s more than a problem, Ilyan.” Risha’s eyes were hard as she came to stand beside Ryland, her shoulder pressing against his in what I was convinced was a comforting move. His eyes calmed at the contact. “That’s a freaking explosion.”

  “She hasn’t exploded yet.” Ilyan sighed, turning to each of us, his eyes hard with the volatile anger that was so normal for him as of late. “Besides, I’m not sure she can.”

  “What do you mean?” Ryland asked, the darkness fading from his eyes.

  “It appears to be a Štít, and it is in the same place as Edmund placed it inside of Cail. It is the right size, but it’s a shell, a hollow void. There is nothing there.”

  Everyone looked at Ilyan in confusion. His jaw was a tight line as his mind moved around mine, a million questions flooding me as he tried to process and understand what that meant.

  “A hollow Štít?” Wyn asked, writhing her hands one over the other, her eyes narrowed in pain. “As in, there is no magic in it? He sure likes to poke holes in things.”

  “Not that we can tell.” It was then that he looked at me, his eyes sad and apologetic, the hidden remainder of his thoughts moving through me.

  “No,” I gasped, understanding what was needed of me.

  His apology grew deeper.

  Unwanted panic rose up in my chest, bitter as bile. I gritted my teeth as I turned from him, staring into the darkness as Ryland had done before, the same chill of my past running over me.

  Haunting me.

  I knew it was an overreaction. I had faced Edmund head to head. I had prepared myself to kill him.

  And I would.

  But feeling his magic inside of me … “I’d rather gouge my eyes out than feel his magic again,” I said aloud, the grumble of irritation strong.

  You know his magic better than anyone, můj kamarád. Even me. You can see what I might have missed.

  “That seems kind of excessive.” Wyn leaned against the wall I was staring at in an attempt to break my death stare. “Your eyes are far too beautiful for gouging. Take it from someone who has a gouging injury, they hurt. I wouldn’t recommend it. Besides, I have no idea if this gouging is justified because you are doing it again.”

  “Doing what?” I snapped, trying to ignore the shivers of my magic that were vibrating inside me, the hunger to destroy the man in question clear.

  At least the residual panic at the thought of feeling his magic was leaving. I hated when those past scars made themselves known.

  “Secret mind swapping. Again. Pass the Kool-Aid, why don’t you? Then at least everyone can join in.”

  When I pulled my focus away from the nothing, her small, smug face came into view, her eyebrows lifted in playful prodding.

  “He wants me to see if I can find Edmund’s magic inside of her.” I filled in the gaps with a snap, still too frustrated to give into her oddities.

  “Well, then.” All the joy was sucked out of Wyn’s voice now, the playfulness gone again. “Gouge away. Although, I wouldn’t suggest using a Soul’s Blade. Those things sting.” She waved her hand absently before moving away, her short, auburn hair bouncing in the shadows.

  At least Wyn understood how horrifying a proposition Ilyan had put in front of me.

  I know you can do this. Ilyan’s hand was soft against my back as he came up behind me, the weight of his palm strong.

  I know I can, too. It doesn’t mean I want to. As I leaned into him, he turned us back toward the others, the three of them standing in the shadows with differing looks of confusion and anger covering their faces.

  “I cannot feel anything within the void, but that does not mean it is empty. We have all seen Edmund do worse,” Ilyan announced, pulling me closer to him. “I need Joclyn and Ryland to meet with the children to see what information they can glean, what Joclyn can find.”

  “Pass the eye-gouger,” Ryland grumbled, the same darkness taking over his eyes again. “Not that I have anything against this plan, but do you really think it’s wise, Ilyan? You know what Edmund’s magic does to me.”

  “To both of us,” I added with a grumble.

  “And the plot thickens,” Wyn said with a smile, throwing her arm around Ryland and pushing the very shocked Risha out of the way. “I think I need to be there, too, Ilyan. You know, for moral support.”

  “As far as I see it, Wynifred, you are still on probation, so don’t push your luck.” Ilyan’s voice was a snap, but Wyn didn’t seem to mind.

  She waved him off, her eyes smiling as she turned toward Risha, who was obviously not amused with her antics.

  “I rescue the king from a deadly corpse army, and this is my thanks? I might be as despised as Sain made Joclyn out to be. No offense.”

  “None taken,” I said.

  “Wynifred,” Risha began, her voice hard as she attempted to hold the same power Ilyan held over my somewhat out of control best friend.

  Wyn looked at her as though she were a weird teacher’s pet.

  “It’s time you listened to your leader.”

  “Why? Is he going to assimilate me or something? Because I am pretty sure he knows that won’t work.”

  It was all but impossible to hold back a snicker, especially with Ilyan’s hidden laugh echoing inside my head.

  His fingers pressed i
nto my back. I have told Risha before not to play with fire …

  Maybe she has to get burned first, I replied, watching Wyn and Risha engage in some sort of epic staring contest, only to have my focus pulled away by familiar broad shoulders.

  “Joclyn.” Ryland’s voice was a reverberation that pulled me past the dark and right to him, the emerging cat-fight forgotten. His rugby muscles twitched as his lips pulled into a half-smile. “You ready for this?”

  I stiffened. “Can you ever be ready for something like this?” I tried very hard to ignore the way my spine had instantly stiffened. It wasn’t something Ilyan was going to ignore.

  Ilyan stepped beside me, towering over his brother and me as he pulled me against him again. “Just keep those pretty eyes where they belong, and I think we will all be happy.”

  “Agreed,” Ryland responded far too quickly. Luckily, Ilyan chose to ignore it.

  “I need you to investigate the Štít. See if it is, indeed, a Štít and whose magic is controlling it.”

  I nodded once at Ilyan’s request. It seemed simple enough, though I already knew it wouldn’t be.

  “Ryland knows Jaromir well enough that he should be able to put them at ease. Find out as much as you can … See if you can.”

  “So, as much info as possible,” Ryland recapped, tapping his fingers against his hip bone as he mentally counted. “Keep the kids calm, check for magic, and Joclyn can do her Drak mumbo-jumbo.”

  “It’s not mumbo-jumbo, Ry,” I interjected.

  He opted not to hear me.

  “Oh! And not killing each other,” he continued, the afterthought sitting in my gut like a stone. “Definitely cannot kill each other.”

  “That would be preferable.” Ilyan’s fingers tightened against my waist.

  Don’t worry, Ilyan.

  “I promise not to kill you,” Ry said directly to me, his face twisted in an odd humor.

  “I promise not to lose control and make friends with rats.” I couldn’t help it. Try as I might to get the words out with a straight face, I didn’t quite make it. The sound of my laugh pulled the focus from the bickering old ladies, and Ryland’s own chuckle followed behind.

  Ilyan looked concerned, his face contorted in a frown as he pulled the memory out of my head, his concern and sadness attempting to drown me.

  “Perhaps Wyn was right,” Ilyan said. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

  Everything will be fine, I reassured him, the tiniest bit of self-doubt still trying to move into a paralyzing fear. However, I wouldn’t let it. Even Ilyan’s sudden worry wasn’t enough to let me second-guess myself. If anything happens, I can probably subdue him and put on a puppet show for the kids before you get there.

  “A puppet show, huh?” Ilyan taunted, the worry fading away and making room for the smothering pride I was so used to from him. “Like Punch and Judy?”

  I was lucky to get the reference, especially with the way looking at him was making my head spin, my stomach swirling pleasantly.

  “Yes, but without all the violence.”

  My lips extended into a wide smile as I lifted myself onto my tiptoes. His eyes danced as I pressed my lips to his, his arm winding around my back to pull me against him. He held me there as he deepened the kiss, tugging the long ribbon in my hair to lift my chin toward him.

  “Excuse me,” Ryland snapped, my stomach tying itself up into immediate knots. “I’m standing right here.”

  I had obviously forgotten.

  Ilyan, on the other hand, had not.

  He chuckled darkly, one hand still wound around my waist as he gazed down at me, his eyes soft, fingers a gentle caress against the side of my face. I, on the other hand, looked like I was about to be bowled over by a herd of wild buffalo. My heart definitely felt like that was imminent with the way it was thundering.

  “I am aware, brother,” Ilyan said, pushing some of the strands of hair that had come free from the braid behind my ear, his eyes locked with mine. “I felt like you needed a small reminder that you won’t, in fact, kill Joclyn over small triggers. You are stronger than the crap he infected you with, both of you.”

  Ryland’s jaw dropped in shock. I almost expected him to explode in frustration. Hell, I almost wanted to from being used in that way, but it had been a really good kiss.

  The shock began to fade away as Ryland laughed.

  Wyn bounced over to us at the sound, Risha sulking behind. Wyn was obviously ready to absorb whatever drama she had missed. However, Ryland kept laughing, Ilyan joining him while I stood sandwiched between them in confusion.

  “Thank you, brother,” Ryland said around his laugh, his hand soft against my shoulder as he pried me away from Ilyan; the man in question chuckling as his brother pulled me out of the alley.

  “We’ll be back,” he said with a wave of his hand.

  I stumbled backward after him, my focus drifting between Wyn and Ilyan, both of whom were looking at me with varying levels of confusion and enjoyment.

  I should be mad at you, I growled into Ilyan’s mind.

  The widening smile on his face was the last thing I saw as the alley swallowed them, the stone wall and large wooden door of the hospital sliding before me like a stage prop.

  But you aren’t, mi lasko. You love me too much.

  Hearing those tender words inside my mind set off a warm soap bubble of joy inside me. It rattled my bones in a pleasant way that made me long to wrap myself up in it.

  I do, Ilyan. I love you.

  As I love you, my darling. His magic flooded me with his words, so dear, so warm and pure that I missed Ryland releasing me from his grip.

  I came back to my senses as he waved his big hand in front of me.

  “Sorry to interrupt the love fest, but we do actually have a job.” Ryland stepped away from me, moving toward the door with a light step. If it weren’t for the way his fists kept clenching and unclenching—one of his tells—I would say he was looking forward to this.

  “What love fest?” I tried very hard to keep the guilt out of my voice as I followed him up the stairs, my worn sneakers squeaking against the stone.

  Ryland turned, a sly smile on his face before he turned away. His shoulders tensed as he pushed the door open. “It’s painted on your face, Jos. It’s either you and Ilyan ogling each other, or you’re dreaming of a hamburger.”

  “Ew.”

  “What do you mean, ew? Sometimes, I wonder what you’ve done with my best friend.” Laden with truth and loss, his words hung between us as we began to move across the long, darkened room.

  The tall windows that lined the space were covered with curtains so thick they kept the red light away. I could almost convince myself we had stepped back into reality.

  Just my best friend and I, off on some epic adventure.

  With that and the bright white lanterns that hung from the ceiling, everything in here looked almost normal, like a regular hospital … if that hospital were in eighteenth-century France.

  The old metal-framed beds sat at regular intervals. The healing Chosen were curled up in white linens, moaning and groaning, not an IV bag or EKG machine to be seen. Just glass bottles of oddly colored medicines and bowls of assorted dried plants.

  Despite the archaic nature, it was all so normal.

  “You used to love hamburgers.”

  Except for that, I could almost believe it.

  “I used to not be a Drak, either.” I sighed, trying my hardest not to look at the people in the beds we passed. “Between your brothers, my brother, and my pain in the behind father—”

  “Everything changed.” Ryland stopped in place as he finished my sentence, his eyes focused on the children ahead of us. Something more than fear and loss was etched in his eyes.

  They sat, Míra tucked into one of the many iron beds, Jaromir sitting against the footboard, jabbering and laughing as if they weren’t locked up in a healing ward stuffed in the middle of a war.

  Watching them, I waited for Ry to move, but he
stayed still, frozen in a world I wasn’t convinced I belonged in anymore.

  “Ry?” I asked after a minute, my heart rate beginning to pick up in fear. Everything about him seemed normal, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to turn on me and attack.

  Ilyan, sensing my worry, pressed his magic into me via our connection, the warmth flooding me in an attempt to settle my fear. But there wasn’t any fear, only worry about what Ryland was going to do. My brain made battle plans about how to restrain him without hurting too many of the people around us.

  “You’re a queen,” Ryland said to break the silence, my heart tensed at once.

  As if I needed a reminder that I didn’t fit.

  The words were so simple it should have been calming, but he was still frozen in dread, his eyes gazing into nothing. Even his magic had disappeared from my radar.

  I hated when he did that. It was a nice parlor trick his father had left him with.

  “We’ve been over this, Ry.” I was still hesitant to say much, my magic prickling more in preparation.

  “No, I mean, you are a queen.” He finally pulled out of his stupor, spinning to face me. The gaunt nothing had left his face, and a brilliant eager light had taken its place. Still, I couldn’t relax, even though Ilyan had seemed to. Whatever he was viewing through my eyes had put him at ease.

  It would be nice if he would share some of that calm, but he was silent.

  “Yes.”

  “Little girls love queens. They love princesses.”

  Everything fell into place as Ryland wrapped his hands around my shoulders, shaking me slightly in his excitement.

  I could feel the confusion slip from my scowl. Either that or it was the brain damage from being jostled around.

  “So, I should be a queen? Like, in a theme park where little girls line up in pretty dresses and get signatures and pictures?”

  Ryland nodded, obviously proud of his deduction.

  Ugh.

  “I should have worn one of my council dresses.” It was a grumble of irritation that Ryland chuckled at. He knew my hatred for dresses better than anyone.

  I wasn’t sure I would get into a dress, anyway, but I knew that frayed jeans and blood-stained sneakers weren’t going to cut it. Ryland, however, didn’t seem to care. He smiled eagerly and stepped away, jogging toward the kids in his excitement.