Imdalind Ruby Collection One: Kiss of Fire | Eyes of Ember | Scorched Treachery

by Ethington, Rebecca

  “I know, but I had stayed away too long—”

  “I told you not to come back.” His hands dug into me, his grip pushing me against the wall.

  “Why didn’t you break the bond?”

  “I was going to, after...” I reached up to touch his face, my hand stopping halfway at the look in his eyes.

  “You waited, and now it’s too late. He’s going to kill you, Jos! Do you know what I risked to warn you? What they did to me? To Wyn? To your dad? We risked it all and you didn’t listen.” His anger cut through me. I could only stare at him wide-eyed as I tried to make sense of what he was saying.

  “I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I—”

  “Being sorry means nothing!” he yelled, slamming his fist into the wall by my head.

  I jumped and tried to move away from him, but his hands kept me restrained.

  “What do you want from me, Ry? I’m trying, okay?” I couldn’t help but yell. The anger and fear inside of me bubbled out, directing itself at Ryland.

  “Trying to what, Jos? Not Listen? I’m trying to save you and you can’t even let me do that. Why did I even bond myself to you?” His words were loud and echoed around the empty room. I wanted to sink away into nothing. I had asked myself the same thing a million times because of the doubt that I had felt, the hopelessness that the Zȇlství had caused me... us. Because of the pain, the torture; I had felt it all and asked the same question, however hearing it from him still hurt.

  “Why did you?” I asked, my voice soft.

  “Because I can’t live without you! I couldn’t see you with someone else, ever. I was hoping I could take Ilyan’s place if I sealed myself to you!”

  “Take his place?”

  “You can’t love him, Jos. He’s not the one for you. I am.”

  I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. I loved Ryland, but he stood there admitting that he had known what I had been born for. He had known what the mark meant, and he had still bonded himself to me. I didn’t know if he had done it because he wanted to protect me, or because he really did love me, or because he wanted the power.

  “I love you,” he said, his hands strong against my forearms.

  “Love me? Then why did you do it? You knew what I was. You knew I was meant for Ilyan. What did you have to gain?” My words trailed off at the memory of the riddle about the two brothers that Ryland’s possessed body had told me on a rooftop. It couldn’t be...

  “No!” I yelled, pushing him away from me.

  Ryland couldn’t have bonded himself to me for his own gain.

  I repeated it to myself, almost willing the words to be true.

  “Leave me alone!” I yelled as I turned away from him, his fingers curling around my forearm like a vice and stopping me in my tracks.

  “Is that what you want? For me to leave you alone?”

  “Yes!” I spat, ignoring the knife-like stab in my heart.

  “Wish granted!” He pushed me away from him as I stumbled, my head spinning as the room shook. Another explosion sounded, this one closer and more aggressive than the last, Ryland swore loudly before grabbing my arm and dragging me through the manor.

  We didn’t get far before he shoved me into a closet just as footsteps approached. I moved my body into the corner as Cail yelled out, his voice loud in the tiny space.

  “No!”

  “Yes,” Ryland taunted him, his voice deep and menacing.

  “How did you get here?” The level of fear in Cail’s voice was shocking to me. Why did Ryland’s presence scare him so much?

  I felt the small paw of a rodent press against my shoulder before the full weight of the creature transferred onto my collar bone. I opened my mouth in horror, not daring to move, while my body unwillingly took in a shaky breath that I prayed was not audible.

  “It is my mind, Cail.” Ryland said, the smile evident in his voice.

  Everything froze as the rat walked across my back, his body tangling itself in my hair. I tried to keep my panic under control and another shaky inhale silent as he made his passage.

  “Not for long.”

  The tiny closet shook as an explosion rattled the space sending books and baskets onto me. I screamed and covered my head, hoping my voice was not heard through the fight that was being waged right outside the door.

  My breathing picked up as the explosions moved further down the hall, Ryland leading Cail away from me and giving me a chance to escape. I wiped away the invisible tracks of the rat, my shoulders shuddering in disgust as I broke out of the closet and took off back the way I had come. I turned into a hallway I had never entered before, hoping the two locked in battle had not seen me flee.

  I was at a disadvantage here. I only knew parts of this mansion. I knew how to get to Ryland’s room and most of the servants corridors of the upper levels, but the main living space and all the lower rooms were foreign to me. I needed to retrace my steps to get back to the kitchen.

  I continued to run down the hall, my feet slipping on decaying carpet as I bolted down one corridor, then another.

  I hadn’t gone very far when a loud crash echoed in the space around me, causing light fixtures to shake and pieces of plaster to fall. I stopped in my tracks, my pulse surging heavily as I waited; as I tried to figure out what course to take.

  “Don’t stop moving,” I whispered aloud to myself, but I still couldn’t move. Slowly I pried my feet off the floor and shifted into a run, knowing that a moving target was harder to catch. I kept going until I came to a split flight of stairs; one side leading up, the other down. The kitchen was on the ground floor, I needed to go down.

  I picked up my pace as I headed down the stairs, my hand lightly grazing the dirt and mold covered railing. I turned corner after corner as I descended, each level becoming more infested, more deteriorated, and more blood covered. Even though I knew that was what it was, I begged my mind to believe it to be paint. It was splattered everywhere.

  The more I moved through the silence, the more I became aware of every noise and twitch in the air. I jumped at every creak, at the steady thumping that came from somewhere over head. I would pass doors which lead to floors of the estate, sure I heard voices on the other side, only to stop and have those voices turn into the squeaking of mice or ripping of paper.

  I stopped abruptly when I had moved down about six stories, my heart thumping wildly at the pool of red liquid that occupied the landing of the steps below me. The smooth, red fluid swirled aggressively as if it was being disturbed; as if something around the next turn was moving through it.

  I gasped as my muscles tensed, my panic growing. This wasn’t right. I was too low. I had gone too far. I didn’t know where I was. I needed to go back. I turned as quickly as I could, running up the stairs, desperate to get away from whatever was deep within the pool of blood.

  I had gone up far more floors than I had gone down when I realized that nothing was changing. I should have moved back into the manor by now, but the walls still remained red and glistening. My eyes darted around wildly before I turned to retrace my steps.

  Two steps down, I howled in horror as my foot plunged into the warm pool of fluid. I looked at the bubbling pool of blood, fear pulsing through my ears. I had left this pool behind me, at least ten flights of stairs down, and yet, here it was.

  As I watched, the liquid lurched, growing a step and splashing against my foot. I screamed and grasped the door knob to the nearest floor, flinging my body through the door, not bothering to check if anyone was waiting for me on the other side. My only thought was to get away from the pool of blood.

  To find the kitchen, even though something was telling me that it was gone.

  One Hundred Thirteen

  Ilyan

  “What?” I turned to face Dramin, his words melting into my panic.

  “I have seen something like this,” he repeated, not quite meeting my eyes.

  “Where?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level, the anger and regality seeping out wit
hout me wanting it to. “Was it a sight, Dramin, or at some point in your living life?”

  He hesitated, and I instantly knew why. Last night he had spoken in his usual guarded way about being needed; it was his reason for consenting to come to the Rioseco Abbey with Joclyn and me. I hadn’t thought twice at the time, how could I? For hundreds of years, guarded words and cryptic answers had been the way of the Drak. I had no reason to think that would have changed. I felt Thom’s magic surge dangerously as his temper rose.

  “You have seen this in sight, haven’t you, Dramin?” My voice was level, the regal tone I had tried to keep restrained for most of my life seeping through.

  Dramin didn’t answer. He simply extended his hand toward me, his face pained as he gave me permission to use the full extent of his recall.

  I placed Joclyn on the cold, stone floor of the cave to grab Dramin’s hand and place it against my forehead. My eyes closed to blackness before the vision filled me. I could see myself, standing over Joclyn, the stone walls of the Rioseco Abbey clear in the background. Her body was still, limp, and yet I was yelling at her, panic evident on my face. I watched as Dramin walked into the room, his face calm before he, too, panicked. Before I could see any more, Dramin removed his hand from my head, the vision leaving with it.

  There was no sign of her waking up in the sight, only her limp body, my pain, and panic. That sight could be in a week or in five years—I had no way of knowing. I re-ran the vision in my mind as I inspected every aspect: different clothes, my usual shorter haircut, the Rioseco Abbey.

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Dramin?” I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling hard on the long, uncomfortable strands.

  “Tell you what?”

  “Tell me what would happen! That something was wrong, something is…” I stopped, not knowing exactly how to finish that sentence. “We could have stopped this.”

  “What could you have done, My Lord?” Dramin’s voice was deep and accusatory. I could already hear the regular rebuttal of his kind on his tongue—the lack of knowledge, the inability to interfere with things to come.

  “You could have told me,” I said, knowing my reasoning would be lost on him. “I could have stopped her from going into the Tȍuha—”

  “How was I to know it was a Tȍuha?” Dramin asked, his voice rising. I straightened in front of him, my height and heritage pulling at my temper. Anyone else would have recoiled, but he was so used to me he didn’t even move.

  “I showed you all that I have seen, Ilyan. There was no way to know—”

  “Zastavit.” Stop. I spoke loudly, prickling agitation moved up my body in a ripple. I let it take over for one weighted minute before I released it; unleashing my temper against Dramin would solve nothing.

  “Does she wake?” My voice was a whispered breath.

  “Yes.” My head snapped up at Dramin’s answer, hope running through me.

  “Then we will wait. We will go to Rioseco, and we will wait.” I was firm, confident, but all that left when a feminine moan pulled me from Dramin and back to Joclyn. I spun around, part of me desperate to see her eyes open, her bright smile.

  She was the same.

  I dropped to my knees, pressing my hands against her arms as my magic flowed into her.

  “Ne,” I gasped when I found it. She had a broken bone in her leg. The break was clean and ran right through her tibia. I was sure she had not had it when we entered the training room.

  “What?” Thom knelt next to her head, and strangely, the anger in his voice was leaving, concern seeping through in a slow trickle.

  “Her leg is broken,” I said, not willing to accept it myself.

  “Broken?” Dramin leaned down beside me, his hand moving against her head. His magic moved into her alongside my own, the heavy tendrils of the Drak magic cold. He gasped when he felt it and withdrew his hand, his magic leaving with the loss of contact.

  I wrapped the bone in a hard layer of my magic, giving it a strong internal cast to help heal it. I didn’t know how long it would take with her strangely vacant magic unable to do most of the work itself.

  “What is he doing to her, Ilyan?” Thom moved away, his fear at the power of our father obviously affecting him.

  He had seen too much of our father’s games. I just didn’t like to lose, and Edmund had upped the stakes in this game.

  Edmund was torturing her, hurting her, intentionally. He had done the same to me more than a dozen times—every time he had somehow managed to capture me. It was his favorite game, causing pain.

  He had tortured and killed mortals in front of me, hoping to break me or drive me mad. Now he was doing the same to Joclyn. He had found a way to hurt her, really hurt her, in a place I could not follow.

  Or could I?

  “I need to get in there.” I stood quickly, ignoring the confused glances from the men on either side of me, my focus only on Joclyn’s body.

  “What do you mean, get in there?” Thom asked.

  “I mean, go into the Tȍuha and get her out. Wake her up.” I squared my shoulders, still unwilling to look away from her.

  “Is that even possible? You said you could not find the bridge.” Dramin’s voice was quiet.

  “I will find it when I join my mind with hers, Půjde to?” I clenched my jaw, my mind working in preparation for what I was suggesting.

  “This is ridiculous, Ilyan,” Thom pleaded. “Tam jít tam, you would only be stuck in there. Dramin has seen her wake. We just need to wait.”

  “Wait?” I scoffed at Thom’s reasoning. A few minutes ago, I had been content to do the same, but now her leg was broken. I would not let Edmund get away with this. “Two hours there for every twenty minutes here. She has been trapped in that prison for six hours. They have broken her leg and hurt her enough to make her bleed internally. I can’t leave her in there. Who knows what else they have done, or are going to do? I don’t have time to wait.”

  “I can’t let you do this, My Lord.” I turned at the sound of Dramin’s voice, the desperate plea catching me off guard.

  “I don’t know what else to do. You are her brother, Dramin. As her brother, would you stand by while someone tortured her?” I didn’t need him to understand, I could do it on my own. He was one of the first of his kind, and Joclyn’s blood.

  “He’s her brother…” Thom said just as the thought crossed my mind. I could see what he was thinking, I knew where this was going, and I didn’t like it.

  “No, Thom,” I said sternly, hoping to stop the thought in his mind before he found his voice.

  “It’s what our father is using to control the nightmares, correct?”

  “Yes, but—” I began, but Thom swiftly cut me off. I could feel my spine prickle at the lack of respect, but I ignored it.

  “It must be what he is using to control the Tȍuha.” Thom’s face was growing in maniacal intensity. I watched him closely, knowing I would have to put a stop to it soon.

  “Using a blood connection is not an option,” I hissed through gritted teeth.

  “I don’t see why not, Ilyan. It’s what Edmund is using against her. So, we can use the same technique to save her.”

  “No, Thom. I won’t let that happen, not ever. It’s wicked, evil. You should know that better than either of us. Do you understand?” I spoke deeply. Blood magic was dangerous. The cutting open of hearts and souls was inhumane.

  “It’s just a blood connection, Ilyan. It is how Edmund is able to control Joclyn’s dreams. They have Sain, but we have Dramin—”

  “No. I will never allow you to cut open my heart or sever my soul in an attempt to save her. This is madness, Thom.” Even Dramin was panicked.

  “Then what do we do?” Thom whispered, his shoulders sagging as he gave in.

  “We get out of this cave,” I said, knowing there wasn’t another option. Not anymore. “Once the rock settles we will begin. Thom, will you check the extent of the damage to the cave? I need to be with Joclyn.”

  We all no
dded in understanding before I moved away from them to Joclyn. My fingers ran over the lines of her face as my magic swelled through her, my touch moving over eyes, her cheeks, and across the soft skin before her ear.

  I lay down next to her, my body pressing up against hers as it had only an hour before. She was so warm compared to the chill of the stone.

  I pushed my magic into her, confident that I would not hurt her. Her magic pushed against mine, but the strength of it still seemed to be missing.

  “Come back to me, Jos,” I whispered, hopeful that my voice would flow to her as hers had to me. It wasn’t fair what fate had planned for us; to take us from one hell to another, to tear us away from each other, to tear her away from her mate.

  I let my magic settle inside of her before I moved it toward my target, fusing parts of myself with her, my magic connecting with nerve endings in an attempt to contact her. I let my finger slide down to connect with her mark, the jolt rocking through me as it always had, every day that I had touched it from the first. Even when she had felt nothing, I had always felt the surge. I sighed at the sensation and closed my eyes, letting my mind fuse with hers.

  I would have yelled at what I found, but I was too scared to see the emptiness of her mind.

  There was a reason I could not sense her power, her emotions or her soul. Nothing was there. Her body was an empty shell. I gasped at the emptiness, at the confusion and loss I felt from finding her gone.

  There should have been memories, dreams and visions, but I saw nothing but blackness, the velvety color clear and dark.

  If she had left to join her mate in some expanse of eternity, would it leave an empty shell behind? I was foolish to think that this would work, that even a blood connection would work. It couldn’t work because there was nothing to attach to. There was no bridge to bring her back.

  Edmund must have attached himself to Ryland before he used the connection and pulled her through to him. Before he locked her away. That was how he gained control.

  I let my mind linger inside the black realm that Joclyn had left behind, searching for any way to bring her home.