Crown of Cinders (Imdalind Series Book 7) Read online

  “As we want,” she corrected.

  With those few words, my blood turned to fire and ice. Pride and anger swirled together as my eyes narrowed, the danger and warning clear in my eyes.

  I knew she saw it. I could tell by the way she sighed, lifting her hands to her hips, an ugly disparaging look twisting her features.

  “I didn’t know there was a we in this,” I said with steel, the warning clear as I stepped toward her, ignoring the corpse that sat between us.

  With one firm foot on his shoulder, I stepped onto his body, a crack echoing in the dark as I balanced on bones and skin.

  This time, she grimaced. This time, the sharp inhale between her teeth was based on an emotion I hadn’t thought it possible for her to hold.

  The defiance faded from her face as her eyes widened, her jaw tensing and teeth clenched together.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I gasped, false sympathy dripping from my tongue so heavily it aggravated her more. “Do you not like this?”

  She said nothing, just watched me, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

  “Do you want me to stop?” I asked, laughing this time.

  Still, she glowered at me, her eyes hard with anger as she began to chew on her cheek.

  I dug my heels in, twisting my body to and fro as I mutilated the already broken shards of a man, pushing the beautiful woman before me to her limit.

  Still, she stood.

  Still, she glowered.

  My dance continued until it became clear she wasn’t going to participate in my little game.

  It angered me. I could feel my temper rising alongside my magic, the powerful torrent ready to attack, almost desperate for it.

  Even with the battle waiting for me on the other side of the door, a little warm up wouldn’t be too terrible.

  “Do you want me to stop?” I broke each word up into syllables, staccato sounds that stabbed into the dark like daggers.

  Ovailia narrowed her eyes further, the tension in her jaw leaving as her long, graceful fingers pushed the hair behind her ear again. The tiniest of wicked smiles then played around the corners of her lips.

  “No.” She took a step forward, planting her heel firmly beside my own foot before she lifted herself onto her father’s body, joining me on the corpse that, in a way, would become a frightening cornerstone for my reign.

  “Good,” I hissed, wrapping my hand around her waist before pulling her into me. I let our magic dance together, knowing the connection was dangerous. “Since I killed him, I can do what I want with him. He is mine, as all those people are mine. As the future is mine.

  “There is no us,” I continued, pushing her farther into me. “There is no we.”

  “Not yet.” She smiled, and my eyes narrowed.

  I dug the tips of my fingers into her side as my magic flared. My temper was rising so quickly I could barely contain my magic, contain my anger. I knew she felt the warning pricks of my power. I knew she felt the pain.

  But she didn’t show it.

  She stood against me, her hand soft on my forearm as she fixed me with the same dangerous smile.

  “Careful, Ovailia. Remember what I said about a devil.”

  Her smile faded at my words, the power she thought she had over me fading into a question. She stepped away, pulling her heel out of Edmund’s back with an odd squelching noise before it tapped against the stone of the floor, the click like the bang of a gun, signaling the change.

  “Everyone is in the hall,” she continued as though the last few minutes had never happened. “We’ve scoured all of Imdalind and pulled all the Trpaslík guards from the camp. The qualified Chosen are here. The others are locked in their tents as you requested. Damek and I have already barred the doors, although I am not positive we can hold this much magic behind them if they were to revolt.”

  “Let me worry about that.”

  The fear in Ovailia’s eyes relaxed as I stepped off the corpse of her father, the tension in her shoulders loosening. She whimpered as I moved closer, her eyes soft as my fingers trailed over her skin in a move that she perceived as intimacy. She was foolish enough to have missed the control I had taken, to have missed the protective shield I had placed around her.

  “Well, then”—her smile grew as her magic swelled, her beautiful frame taking another step toward me—“we are ready.”

  “Wonderful.” Even past the mask of emotions I always hid behind, I couldn’t stop this smile from releasing. I couldn’t stop the greed from coloring my eyes.

  Ovailia watched it spread as she let her hand drift up to my shoulder, her own brand of lust intensifying, seeping into the air and mixing with the flavor of death in a luscious aroma.

  “Wonderful,” I repeated as I breathed it in, letting the sweet smell of victory fill me. The last tendrils of Edmund’s magic burned inside me. “Go and introduce your father, Ovailia.”

  Ovailia said nothing as she vanished from sight, smiling demurely. The soft click of her ever-present heels following my good little pet to her task.

  “Now we get to play.” My heart rumbled as I turned, addressing the lifeless corpse as if it were an old friend patiently waiting for his turn. “Up you go.”

  Edmund’s magic was destroyed, Míra and the Štít gone. There was no longer any magic in this vessel. Otherwise, I would have controlled him as I had with the bodies within Prague. Instead, I let my magic seep inside him, strong as it filled the icy cold of rotting flesh, moving him like a puppet on a string.

  Ticking throughout him like the pulse of a metronome, my magic brought his body to life, shifting and jerking with a steady beat. He moved as though he were under a strobe, his arms and torso shuddering in a haunting stop-motion that jerked and pulsed. Loud cracks broke through the air as his bones began to shatter, unable to hold the weight of the decaying man. They pushed their way past the charred and blackened remains of his flesh, glistening white and shining brightly against the grit of black ash.

  I moved him to a standing position, his legs twisted beneath him, head lolling on his shoulders like a newborn. Dead white eyes stared into nothing as the singed ends of his always perfectly cared for hair fell over his gaunt face in the limp curls that were so similar to his sons’.

  “Hello, old friend,” I cooed as I twisted his head to one side, his mouth agape as a dry and cracked tongue protruded from behind yellow teeth. The blade that still protruded from his chest was more obvious now. “Ready for some fun?”

  “Trpaslíks!” Ovailia’s voice boomed from beyond the door, heralding what was coming, causing the beat of my heart to increase. “Our master, our king has gathered us here for wonderful news!”

  The jovial crowd answered in a cheer, a shout.

  Before Ovailia could continue, I closed my eyes then stretched my magic past the wall to see the horde gathered there, to see their eager faces, to see Ovailia who was alive in her element as she led them toward the destruction I had planned for them.

  Ovailia continued as I opened my eyes to view the corpse who wobbled before me, the room beyond fading to green.

  “I suppose you need to look nice for your fans …”

  Removing the robe from my shoulders, I threw it over his. My magic twitched inside of him as the door swung open, and Ovailia’s voice echoed loudly inside of me.

  “I give you my father!”

  Magic surging, I prodded him forward, toward the eager throngs that were waiting to see him.

  Ash fell from his body with each step, chunks of what was once flesh littering behind him as the movements jostled his fragile remains. They fell like a train behind him, like a cloak of coronation; except, this one was in the death and failure of his reign.

  With broken steps, he left the dark confines of the alcove and shuffled into the light, into the large hall and the joy and excitement Ovailia had resonated.

  The cheers continued before the screams started. Anger and panic took control as I turned Edmund’s body, his dead eyes looking into the crowd,
the large jagged shard of the Soul’s Blade clearly protruding from his heart.

  The crowd deteriorated into a panic as many turned to rush the door. Many more rushed Ovailia or the podium, coming face to face with a powerful shield. Any attack they sent that way faded to smoke.

  The attacks, the fear—everything poured into me with an energy I devoured with a lustful hunger. I let it energize me, fill me. Wonderment broke through my chest in a deep, menacing boom that increased the thrum of my heart. The sound increased, magnified by the room I stood in, drifting over the crowd as they began to hush, increasing the fear of this unknown who was stepping out from the shadows.

  The depth of my laugh flourished as the shock of seeing me standing before them began to sink in. Unbroken, unwavering, no longer the sniveling imp they had watched cower behind their master for centuries.

  That creature had gone. All that was left was an unknown hell, the devil in me just dying to get out.

  Fear dripped in the air, infecting the magical people who were now my pawns with a virus they wouldn’t be able to shed anytime soon.

  “Good evening.” I spoke as casually as I could, fully aware that the menace of my laugh had attached itself to the two words. “I thank you all for accepting my invitation, for following the commands of your king.”

  The multitude stared at me in confusion and shock, their eyes wide as they looked from one to another, trying to understand what was going on.

  “You called …?”

  “What happened to Edmund …?”

  “What is going on?”

  The nefarious smile crept over my face, baring my teeth to the light as I stripped the blood-soaked robes from Edmund’s shoulders once again, letting the damp cloth glisten as I furled it through the air like a banner.

  Screams cut the startled silence as the blade glistened from his chest, the naked body of their master left disrobed.

  I gave them no explanation. I said nothing more. In silence, I simply stepped toward the broken man, his blood shrouding me as I wrapped my hand around the blade that still protruded from his chest, the uneven rock strangely hot.

  “Don’t worry,” I said, smile expanding as I glanced back out toward the captive audience. “He’s already dead. I killed him. I defeated him. As we will Ilyan in a victory that I will lead you to.”

  Their cries of protest and fear echoed in my ears as my focus drifted back to Ovailia who stared at me, the same stiff jaw in place, her hands like rocks against her thighs.

  “To victory,” I repeated to Ovailia, my focus on hers as I pulled the blade, cutting into ribs, lungs, and flesh, ripping Edmund open from breast plate to hip bone.

  The already rotting and burned organs spilled out of him in a cascade of gray and red. A shower of the darkest crimson covered my legs, sliding over the stone as it flooded the faces of those who stood closest, the fear escalating as every question he had was answered.

  A breath of silence filled the hall before the screaming began again, panic ruling them.

  It was then, with the blood of their master over their face and his milky eyes staring vacantly into them, that they attacked.

  Streams of color flashed across the air, hitting against the same shield as before. The gray stone of the cave was illuminated by the flash of anger as attack after attack flew through the air.

  Then, with one look at Ovailia, hair sagging in front of my face in madness, I dropped the shield, letting the attacks fly right toward me, brilliant colors inches from taking my life.

  They never hit me.

  Instead, a spark of ability pressed me into the world underneath our own, letting me escape them in a seamless stutter. Reappearing with a tiny pop at the back of the large hall, the sound unheard over the eruption of violence that had taken over the space.

  Hundreds of attacks still sped right toward where I had been, the air alight with color, each missing their mark and embedding themselves in the body of their former master.

  Screams rent the air at the sudden shift of events. Trpaslík women ran to the aid of the man who had been mutilated by dozens of spells. More ran toward the door, the untrained Chosen cowering and whimpering against the walls in mad attempts to escape the fray.

  Then everything stopped.

  Frozen.

  Silent.

  Men stopped attacking. Women stopped crying. Chosen froze in pathetic cowers. And I alone stood in the back of the hall, laughing as my power infested them, freezing them in place. The sounds of fear were snuffed from the air as I placed each of them in a cage of my magic. No matter how much they fought, it wouldn’t allow them to move.

  “Well, now,” I said, my steps heavy as I walked past them, weaving my way through the sea of large, frightened eyes as they watched me, the one thing that moved in a sea of stone. “That was quite the fit you all threw. Mind you, I don’t necessarily blame you. I can image your surprise. You thought me a pathetic weasel. And now I bring you the body of your tyrant. Now I hold you all with a power that even Edmund could not master.”

  Fear dripped heavily in the air with each word, the emotion dangling in their eyes, clear in the labor of their breaths. It pressed against my soul, and I breathed it in with a sigh, letting it fill me, letting it fuel me.

  Stepping onto the raised platform in silence, Ovailia stepped back with one sharp look from me, the warning obvious.

  This was my show.

  Two steps and I was to him.

  Edmund’s body was already ripped apart, blackened, burned limbs thrown into the dark behind him with the force of the attack. Nevertheless, it was his skull I wanted. It was the head that still looked out at them all with a slack jaw and wide-eyed horror.

  The skull that so many of them could not look away from.

  With a wide smile, I scanned the crowd as I placed my foot over the skull of the once powerful king, watching the fear line their eyes as, with one swift movement, I crushed the man who had once crushed them.

  “You can choose one master, and I suggest you choose wisely. If we wish to destroy Ilyan and take Imdalind for our own, we do not need someone who cannot see the dangers we are surrounded by. What we need is someone who can see the truth of what lies ahead, see all possibilities in our path. And I can see all.”

  The words were perfectly placed, soothing little reminders of what I was and what I was capable of. They did not go unnoticed.

  Those same eyes that looked so frightened of me before now looked between themselves in confusion and awe.

  “I suggest,” I began, my voice a low warning as I began to pace before them, “that you consider your options carefully. You do not want to see what I can truly do. A little freezing trick is nothing compared to the true power of a Drak.”

  I stood still in the center of the platform, my smile wide as I faced them, letting the fear mount as my magic did. The powerful force went unfelt as it wound through each of them, moving into them, infecting them.

  Preparing them.

  And then I released them.

  “If you fight for me, then do it. Kill those who still bow to Edmund. Destroy those unworthy to stand in my presence.”

  The sounds of anger, fear, and battle erupted again as the horde before me reanimated, bodies falling, spells firing.

  Attacks sped toward me once again, simply to be deflected with a single thought. Beams of color and flame followed, falling to the ground like sand. One after another, they came until the war that was opening up before me began to shift, the line of good and evil fading.

  And Trpaslík turned against Trpaslík.

  My words had not gone unnoticed.

  One by one, those who battled before me began to turn on each other. The war was no longer about who could destroy me, but on choosing which side to stand on. Choosing which side of the line you would claim as your own.

  Laughing, I watched as the battle strengthened, body after body falling to the ground. Explosions sounded around me as the battle intensified, as they began to rip e
ach other apart.

  “Careful,” I whispered to myself, turning away from them with a grin. “You might get hurt if you don’t choose wisely.”

  Kicking the shards of bone off the stone floor, I stepped away, grateful when Ovailia followed me, her own laugh clear in the scream-filled air.

  JOCLYN

  4

  “Are you hoping to find something to kill?” I teased, increasing my gait in an attempt to keep up with Wyn. Knowing I had to be quiet. Being loud while we were outside the cathedral was not smart.

  Wyn, however, seemed to be trying to make as much noise as possible. Even her footfalls were deafening.

  “I’m not saying it would be a bad thing.” Her voice was a heavy mumble as she finally came to a stop.

  Pulling a weathered and wrinkled map out of her back pocket, she consulted it, peering through the hole in her palm like it was some kind of periscope.

  “If you want to use it like that, you should get a magnifying glass inserted.” I tried to ignore the way my stomach flipped and flopped at the imagery. Then I turned away, letting my magic flow over the darkened streets we were stopped in.

  I supposed, if we were going to be loud and obnoxious, I should at least make certain we were as safe and guarded as possible.

  “Don’t think that it hasn’t crossed my mind,” she said with a wink, pressing the mangled hand flat in the air. “But I worry it would mess up my magic, and it has such a pretty little circular array right now.”

  I would grant her that. Whatever that blade had done to her hand had not only made it impossible for me to heal, but her magic flew around in new and, should we say, unique ways.

  “Just conjure glass into it, and you’re all set,” I said absently, my focus two streets away on a Vilỳ that was picking through garbage.

  Luckily, looking at Wyn’s map, our target was in the opposite direction. As long as I could keep her quiet, we would be good.

  “I think that’s the best thing you have said all day,” Wyn hissed in an eager whisper, balling up the map then shoving it into the back pocket of her filthy jeans. Not like mine were much better. We were in desperate need of a washing machine. “Of course, then I couldn’t torment Jaromir and his angry, little counterpart. It’s so fun to make them squirm.”