Ryland stepped forward, his face blank, his curls limp as they hung damp around his head.
“Go sit by Sain, and chain your legs together.”
Sain? The first of the Drak? The one Ovailia betrayed? The one Edmund killed? But he was dead… my shock silenced as Ryland walked into the cell with the battered man, sat down next to him, and chained his own ankles.
Sain.
Sain. It couldn't be; it just couldn't.
Sain looked at me with those bright green eyes of his, his one glance daring me to deny what I already knew. He was Sain. I had no idea how, or why, but I was sure it was him.
Ryland's movements were stiff, his vision unfocused as he followed Cail's odd demands. I looked between all of them; my brother and father who were focused on Ryland, Talon's limp body in the cell next to mine, Ryland as a shell of himself, and Sain. His green eyes still bore into mine, the power behind them evident even beneath the blood-soaked hair and the bruised face.
Timothy moved over to where Ryland and Sain sat. Sain lifted his chained hands up to him. Timothy removed one of the chains from Sain’s wrist and reattached it on Ryland's. Sain did not fight, and Ryland did not move. The eeriness of it scared me. I didn't know what they were doing, and I didn't want to.
“Ready,” Timothy said as he stepped out of the cell, closing the door to the tiny space behind him and trapping the two men inside. “Turn him off, son.”
“Yes, Father,” Cail said obediently, and for one split second, the prison was quiet except for the sound of my chains as I looked between them. They were waiting for something. The silence took one more breath before the air opened up with a scream so mournful that I jumped, my own tears threatening as my soul understood the absolute heartbreak that the sound encompassed.
I recoiled as Ryland began to writhe and fight against the chains that he had bound himself with. Sain's emaciated body moved around like a rag doll with each of Ryland’s spasms as he fought against his own restraints. Ryland screamed and yelled and howled, his now blue eyes panicked as he attempted to claw his way out of the cell.
This was like no side of Ryland I had ever seen. This was not the compliant Ryland that Cail seemed to control. It was not the aggressive Ryland that had attacked us at the party, nor was he the calm and loving boy that I had seen with Joclyn before this all began.
He was desperate, emotionally unstable, and terrifying. It was the terror that affected me the most. That raw primal aggression was powerful as he repeatedly lunged against his chains, hitting his head against the bars in an attempt to move through them.
I understood that pain. I didn’t know how, or why. But I knew it. Watching him was ripping something open in me.
I scooted as far away from him as possible. My arms stretched painfully as I moved toward Talon, knowing he couldn't protect me, but needing to move away from the scene in the opposite cell.
“Joclyn!” he screamed, his voice weak and breaking. “What have you done to her?” Ryland continued to scream and writhe as Cail laughed, his footsteps heavy as he moved to stand in front of Ryland’s cell, right next to our father.
“I haven't done anything to her,” Cail said innocently. “What you should be wondering is what you have done to her.”
Ryland froze, his jaw working in terror. “What I did?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “I did… nothing… nothing… I’m good. Not hurt…” Ryland rambled for a moment, his words disjointed as his head twitched around. “What did you make me do?” Ryland asked, the sporadic action disappearing quicker than it had come on.
“I didn't make you do anything, Ryland,” Cail taunted, his voice heavy with malice. “Did you hurt her?”
“You made me hurt her!” Ryland yelled, his body pushing against the chains that bound him so tightly. What little relaxation my shoulders had found left as I tensed away from the anger in Ryland's voice.
“Made me hurt… made me hurt…” he repeated, his voice clicking through the mechanic repetition.
“Now, now,” Cail taunted, his voice calm and condescending. “I did nothing of the sort. I didn't wrap my hands around her neck. Did you?”
Ryland's voice broke for only a moment before he answered in a hiss, “Yes… yes.”
“Did I break her arm?” Cail asked, his back arching as he lowered himself to Ryland's eye level.
“No,” Ryland repeated over and over again. His voice had weakened in desperation, his body now only barely fighting against the chains.
“Did she try to kill me? Did I try to kill her?” I froze, my breathing catching at Cail's words. I knew what they were talking about, but it didn't make any sense. Joclyn tried to kill Ryland? She hadn't said anything about this on our call.
“No.” Ryland's voice was soft.
“Did you?” Cail taunted. It was not a question.
“Yes.”
“Will you do it again?” Cail spoke to him like a psychiatrist, his words soothing, and yet, the intention behind them was heavy and as clear as day. “Will you hurt her?”
“Hurt her… hurt her… hurt her,” Ryland repeated as he began to rock, the rocking stopping suddenly as he switched over again, his voice loud.
“No!” Ryland roared, his desperation coming back quickly. “No.” Ryland yelled and screamed as he fought against the chains, pulling at the heavy link that bound him to the rock wall.
“Really?” Cail taunted, his back straightening as he stood. “But she hurts you in your dreams, doesn't she?”
“No. Nonono…”
“What about when she kissed me, when her hands were all over me,” Cail paused, “that hurt, didn’t it?”
Ryland said nothing, but looked around frantically, his eyes darting all over the dungeon as his breathing picked up, his fingers curling as he moaned a deep lament filled with agony.
Watching him was traumatizing. I was torn between pity, an insane desire to help him, and fear over the explosive nature of his moods. I tried to catch his eyes, hoping that maybe getting him to see me would calm him, but he didn't seem to notice anyone other than Cail. Sain, however, was still staring into me, seemingly oblivious to the exchange going on mere inches from him.
I returned Sain's stare, not knowing where else to look, not wanting to see Cail torment Ryland anymore. I looked at him, silently hoping that the strong gaze of the old man's eyes would fill in the gaps I was so obviously missing.
“Or what about when she tried to snap your neck?” Cail asked.
“It wasn't her.”
“But you just saw her, on the roof top of that little farmhouse, clinging to Ilyan,” Cail continued to taunt, his lips turned in a sneer.
Timothy chuckled wickedly at the look on Ryland's face.
“Nonononono,” Ryland moaned, his fingers curling again as he rocked back and forth, his head hitting against the bars several times.
“Do you think he's kissed her?” Cail whispered, the harshness of his voice hissing through the damp prison.
“No.” Ryland's voice was strong, but forced, his belief in his words wavering, his body still rocking as he fought whatever demons had been placed in his head.
“I saw Ilyan kiss Joclyn. I looked into the window of Sain's mind and saw her kiss him. Her hands wrapped through that hair of his as he touched her, loved her and kissed her.”
Cail spoke softly as if to a lover, but the tone of his voice only triggered Ryland’s violence. His voice cracked and broke as he cried out at Cail’s words, and he pulled at his hair and clawed at the shackles around his ankles.
“And she kissed him back.” Cail barely got the words out before Ryland lunged at the door to his prison, his hands shooting through the narrow space between the bars as he reached for my brother. Ryland's fingers moved and flexed, intent on clawing out Cail's eyes, but he couldn’t reach far enough. Cail and my father only laughed.
Ryland’s eyes were feral, his growl deep and menacing. I turned to the laughing men, a different kind of determination fillin
g me. They did this. They would continue to do this. We had to find a way to fight back.
“She loves him, Ryland,” Cail said, leaning toward Ryland’s still clawing fingers. “Joclyn loves Ilyan more than she loves you. What are you going to do about it?”
“Kill… kill… kill.” Ryland repeated, although I wasn’t sure who he was talking to.
“What. Are. You. Going. To. Do?” Cail asked, each word stronger than the last.
“I'm going to kill him!” Ryland pushed and tugged against the bars, his voice deep through his clenched teeth.
“And what about her?” Cail asked, his voice still containing that menacing taunt. “Are you going to hurt her? Make her pay?”
“Yes!” Ryland yelled, and Cail smiled more. “Hurt her… hurt her!”
“She hurt you!” Cail yelled, his voice changing back into a taunt, and I knew at once what they were doing. Cail had gained full control of Ryland’s mind. He was manipulating Ryland into believing things that he wouldn't believe otherwise. The lines of reality and manipulated horror were so blurred I could tell Ryland had no idea what was what anymore.
But how had he gained control of Ryland’s mind like this? This wasn’t a Vymȁzat. A Vymȁzat erased, this was a type of control I had never seen.
“Are you going to kill her?” Cail asked, the final brick in his bridgework laid.
“Yes!” Ryland yelled, his feral growling against the bars increasing before Sain's hand, unseen by both Cail and my father, touched his back. The touch brought him back down to earth. The frantic movements slowed. Ryland’s body settled back onto the damp floor of the prison, his hands shaking as his fingers curled around his head.
“No,” Ryland gasped, his face horrified at what had just happened. “Nonononono.” His voice opened again into that same mournful whine, the deep hollow noise of heartbreak and betrayal.
“No?” Cail asked, even though his anger at the temporary glitch was obvious, his voice still held that manipulative tone. He didn't miss a beat, and Ryland began second-guessing himself.
“But she hurt you,” Cail stated, moving himself closer to the bars again.
“It wasn't her,” Ryland said, yelling as he tried to convince himself as well as Cail. “Wasn’t her, wasn’t her, wasn’t her.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I know.” Ryland lunged at the bars again, but Cail didn't even flinch, even though the raw aggression had returned to Ryland’s face.
“The way she knows you didn't just try to kill her, for the second time?”
Ryland's jaw moved as he tried to get the words out, but nothing came. Finally, two words left him, the conviction almost gone from his voice, “She knows.”
“How?”
“She knows, she knows,” he repeated.
“Why don't you show her?” Cail asked, his lips twitching with a pleased sneer.
Ryland's eyes widened as Cail pulled a double-sided blade from his pocket, the metal of the blade bright red. It had only a broken strip of leather as a handle. It almost looked like a shard of jagged stone, sharpened to a point on both sides.
Ryland looked at it as Cail extended it to him through the bars, his fingers twitching as he slowly reached to grab it. I couldn't take my eyes off the blade. I had only heard of these, seeing one made my stomach turn. It was a knife made of blood and bits of soul. It was dark magic at its core.
And they were using it against him. No wonder he was so broken.
There was no fighting against this. I pulled against my chains, the metal clanking as I tried to move away, knowing there was nowhere to go. I couldn’t take my eyes off the blade, my breath coming in short, little spurts as Cail held it between his fingers.
“Tell her the truth, Ryland,” Cail whispered, the last words all Ryland needed to hear before he snatched the blade from Cail's hand.
Ryland held it confidently, knowing exactly what to do with it. He lifted his shirt to reveal his chest, the skin over his heart pock-marked with line after line of stab wounds.
Sain reached forward and placed his hand over Ryland's heart, the skin of his hand equally as scarred. I only got a glimpse of the scars, only barely registered what was going to happen before Ryland plunged the blade through Sain's hand and into his own chest. Both men called out in pain, and my screams joined them until the pair passed out, leaving my screams to fill the prison.
Timothy took the final steps to stand right before the now open door of my cell. I barely saw him. I couldn't look away from Sain and Ryland's frozen bodies. I couldn't stop screaming. I expected my father to punch me again. What I didn't expect was for him to unchain me.
“Why don’t you join them, princess?” Timothy’s voice was icy as he grabbed the chains that connected to the shackles on my wrist, one yank sending me to the ground as he pulled me over the cold, uneven floor.
I didn’t have to ask what he was doing. I knew. I kicked and fought as he tried to take me toward them. My voice caught and screamed as I pleaded with him to leave me alone, to save me. It was useless. Timothy ignored my pleas as he threw my flailing body toward the collapsed forms of Sain and Ryland.
“Are we ready?” I barely heard Edmund’s voice over my screams as my father pulled my hand toward the protruding edge of the dagger. I was so weak I had no chance to fight him, my screams were the only defense I had against what was coming.
“Almost, Master.” My brother’s voice was cold, distanced and almost excited.
My screams turned to pleas as I felt the sharp point of the dagger press against the skin of my palm.
“No,” I begged. “No, Daddy, please no.”
“Sorry, princess,” he said, although he didn't really mean it. “But you'll like this, I promise.”
Cail and Edmund laughed at his taunt as Cail placed his hand over mine, pushing our palms into the blade, my scream broke through the air as my soul was sliced apart.
Ninety
Wyn
I was floating; gliding through mist and water. At least, I thought that was what it was. I couldn't be sure. After all, I wasn't sure where I was, or who I was. My body felt disconnected. Not separated from me, but separate. I couldn't tell where my arm extended to or where my leg was. I saw white and dark, and memories that I knew did not belong to me, or were pieces of a past I had forgotten. I felt happy and sad and scared and anxious, but none of the emotions were mine.
I was lost in a sea of everyone, a mist of white that gobbled everyone up and mashed us together. The dungeon was gone. The pain was gone. It was just me, floating through the endless mist.
The last thing I remembered was the feeling of the soul's blade plunging through my hand; is that where I was? Trapped within the blade, just another nameless face to all those already killed by the dark weapon?
Yes, I supposed I was.
I floated and let the bits of souls wash over me, my body of smoke and cloud taking it all in, my cares gone.
“Sain?” a voice cut through the cloud of white. I was sure it was Ryland's, but it seemed younger somehow.
I would like to say I turned toward the sound, but I was not sure I could with how I was swimming in sea foam.
“I’m here.” My consciousness peaked at the voice, my awareness clicking into place. “They brought Wynifred here, too, Ryland.” That voice, it wasn't familiar, and yet, I still felt like it should have been.
“Of course they did,” Ryland replied, his voice floating to me through the damp, white cloud. “She is their bargaining chip now.”
“Wynifred?” Sain’s voice called out to me. “Don't be scared, child. You are safe here.”
I would have loved to respond to him, but I still couldn't figure out how to speak, what to say, or even if I had a mouth to use.
“You need to focus, Wynifred. Think about where your body should be, and it should appear for you.”
I gaped at Sain's words, the instructions foreign and awkward. I wasn't a body. I was mist. I was bits of everyone, and at
the same time, nothing. How could I focus on a body if none existed for me?
I heard Sain sigh and Ryland laugh, the sounds rippling through me. Why did they seem so normal? Weren't they screaming only moments before?
“She's more stubborn than you were, Ryland,” Sain laughed, an impatient clip in his voice.
“I'm just lucky you were here, old man, or I would have wandered this place in confusion for days.”
“I don't know why you count centuries of torture as 'luck', but I suppose I will take your word for it.”
“Did you feel that?” Ryland interrupted, his tone deep and panicked.
“Is Joclyn falling asleep?” Sain’s voice was just as worried. “Is he here?”
“No, it's something else.”
The mist swirled around me, taking me with it before it pulled me, held me, and I felt small fingers on my cheek. A cheek. Once I felt my cheek, my body fell into place, my mind detaching itself from the mist as my legs connected and stepped onto something hard, my weight dropping to the ground as my legs chose not to support me.
My vision circled and flowed as colors took over the white, a forest floor crackling under my fingers. I had barely registered the pine needles before Sain rushed up to me, his hands moving to my shoulders as he inspected me for injuries.
“Are you all right?” I looked up to Sain, his face clean shaven, his hair short, and everything about him clean and well taken care of. I wouldn't have recognized him if it wasn't for his eyes.
“I’m fine. Just pissed.” And confused, but I wasn’t going to admit that.
“You will be safe,” Sain said, and I couldn’t help hearing the heavy inflection in his voice, the way his tone dipped and wavered into something deeper.
“So it is you?”
“Yes. I could tell you my life story, but we simply don’t have time for it, nor do I think you want to hear my depressing tale right now.” He smiled sadly, his kind eyes still searching mine. I couldn’t return the smile; I was far too confused.
Imdalind Ruby Collection One: Kiss of Fire | Eyes of Ember | Scorched Treachery Page 65
