Eyes of Ember (Imdalind Series #2)

by Rebecca Ethington

  We stayed like that for longer than could have been deemed normal, but I could have stayed there much longer. With his arms around me and the song replaying consistently, I could feel the feelings of panic and despair leaving me.

  I could feel normal.

  Almost.

  Ilyan pulled away enough to look at me, the gold specks in his eyes reflecting the morning light right back at me. His soft hands moved my hair away from my face, his finger grazing against my mark. The jolt of magic shot down my spine and I knew it was now only Ilyan that could cause it. I fought the panic that tried to break free at the shock, my eyes glued to his as he smiled. His face was a mixture of pride, worry, and most of all, love.

  I buried my head into his chest. His arms stayed strong around me as he moved his head down to whisper in my ear.

  “I’m going to go get you some Black Water. I’ll be right back.” The heavy wooden door opened and closed as he left, but I stayed still in the bed, hiding underneath the covers. I stretched my hand out over the cotton sheet, laying it flat on the warm part where his body had just been, my heart rate stayed steady even though he had gone, the warmth almost a promise of his return.

  But I wasn’t sure, and that worried me.

  I didn’t even have time to think about it before the door opened again, this time closing with a thunk before heavy footsteps moved toward me. I jumped at the noise, my body instantly rolling into a tight little ball. I tried to convince myself that it was just Ilyan coming back, but I knew better. I knew that gait. My brain had memorized that breathing. I peeked out from behind the cover, not wanting to see.

  Ryland stood before the bed, his hands calmly at his sides, his dark curls falling over his bright blue eyes as they had always done. But my mind didn’t see that.

  My mind replaced the happy smile with a wicked grimace, dark curls with greasy strands, and even the wall behind him began to turn red in my panic.

  My breathing picked up in a matter of seconds, my body moving away from him as I panicked and stuttered, his eyes growing wide at my reaction.

  “Jos? Sweetheart? What’s wrong?” His voice was kind and gentle, but I didn’t trust it. He had played this game on me before, only to end up hurting me.

  “G-go a...a...away.” I tried to make my voice strong, knowing from the start that it wouldn’t work.

  “Jos? I’m not going to hurt you, honey.” His voice was pleading, but I couldn’t stop moving away from him. Ryland was now leaning against the foot of the bed, his body posed as he prepared to crawl towards me over the bed.

  I howled as he moved onto the bed, my voice making noises that had no recognition in any language in an attempt to get him away from me.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay. I had to see you. I had to know you were all right. After everything that Cail did…”

  “Go Away!” I was surprised at my own voice, but tried hard not to let it show.

  I balled my fingers into fists, grateful my fear kept me from attacking him, but not knowing if it was the right choice. I wanted to attack him.

  “Jos! I’m not going to hurt you!” he yelled in frustration. He was practically on top of me now, my heart felt like it was going to beat right through me with how hard it was thumping in my chest.

  We both stayed silent at his outburst, my breathing ragged, his heavy. He didn’t remove his eyes from mine as I watched him calculate what to do with me. I tried to find the power to fight back, but my fear kept me restricted. Then we both heard it, yelling voices in the hall.

  I recognized them both immediately. I had heard them enough. Ilyan and Ovailia. My eyes widened as Ryland looked at me, a million different puzzle pieces clicking into place. But the picture still didn’t make any sense.

  “Ovi…Ovailia b-brought y-you hee...here?” I tried to speak beyond the panic, but I wasn’t quite sure it was working. Ryland’s eyes softened, as if he himself had made some great breakthrough.

  “Yes. Ilyan wouldn’t let me see you. I needed to see you, Jos. You are all I think about. One of the only memories I have left.” I could see the heartbreak in his face. And for one moment, I almost pitied him. I almost understood him. But even if I had wanted to, I still couldn’t trust him. I still waited for him to hurt me. I still fought the desire to hurt him.

  “Ilyan p-protec-cts me.” I had wanted to explain to Ryland how safe Ilyan made me, that he was doing what I needed, but Ryland’s face changed.

  His eyes grew dark, and I watched his body shake. In turn, mine went into a further panic. What little calm I had been able to find was washed away.

  “Ilyan hides you from me!” He rose up above me, his shoulders squaring dangerously.

  “N-no!” I tried to move further away from him, but his legs had pinned me down. I was trapped.

  “Yes! He wants you all to himself as he feeds you lies about how dangerous I am – how mean I am! Even though I would never hurt you. Ilyan made you break our Zȇlství!” Ryland’s yell rose as I continued to panic.

  “N-no!”

  “Ovailia was right.” He roared at me, and I almost missed what was coming. His fist pulled back as the skin of his hand glowed red, his magic fueling his anger as he moved to punch me.

  I couldn’t move. I couldn’t make my magic respond. I stared at him, tears flowing down my cheeks. The part of me that still held out hope that this was not the Ryland that hunted me died when he moved to do that which I had come to believe he always did. Hurt me.

  His fist moved toward me at a speed I couldn’t even comprehend, the knuckles making contact with the side of my face. I howled at the impact. My voice rising up as burning pain spread through my skull, as I fought to get away from what Ryland would do next. Before either of us could make another move, a gust of wind flew through the room and lifted Ryland off of me. I didn’t look to see who had rushed in, I only howled as I rolled off the bed onto the ancient stone and slid myself underneath the heavy wooden bed.

  Hiding was my first defense now. It felt safe here. I could feel the pressure of both the bed and the floor pushing against me. I tried to keep my breathing and cries to a minimum in the hope of not being found, but I was not sure it mattered. Ilyan and Ovailia’s raised voices had entered the room, the screaming match in Czech having only intensified at what they found.

  “But he didn’t hurt her did he?” Ovailia yelled as she transitioned smoothly to English.

  “Ovailia, he punched her when I came into the room!” I heard Ilyan’s feet move toward me, his stocking feet coming into sight. I cringed at the possibility that he would pull me out. But he stayed there, guarding my hiding place.

  “I didn’t see that.” Ovailia lied, I heard Ryland chuckle next to her and my insides stiffened.

  “He’s going to lie anyway, Ovailia. He’s been feeding her lies. Just as you said.” I stuffed my fist in my mouth at the sound of Ryland’s voice to keep from screaming.

  “What lies have you been telling him, Ovailia?” Ilyan asked, the amount of fear in his voice alarming.

  “Nothing much. Two can play at this game, Ilyan.” Her voice was sweet as honey but I knew better. Because this wasn’t a game, no matter how many times Cail had told me that.

  Cail.

  Without warning I began to howl again. My safe place suddenly felt like a prison. I could hear Ovailia laughing beyond my screams.

  “I want you out, Ovailia! Leave the Abbey, and take your games with you,” Ilyan roared above my yells. I could just make out Ovailia’s laugh as Ilyan removed her and placed the door back in place.

  It took a second before his face appeared in the gap under the bed, his hand reaching to help me out. But I couldn’t see through the fear enough to respond. I only howled more.

  I felt Ilyan’s magic flare inside of me, his warmth moving through me as he steadied my heartbeat. My voice died into nothing, my anxiety lessoning. Ilyan reached forward again, but I just looked at him, not quite willing to leave the security the bed provided me. Ilyan wait
ed another moment before relaxing his hand, his body lowering as he lay down on the ground beside me. His body was stretched out on the floor while mine was crammed under the bed.

  “I’m sorry, Jos.” His voice was soft. And while I could feel some of my panic edge away, it wasn’t quite enough. “I will make you safe. I will make you whole again.”

  I stared at him, my eyes wide. I tried to convince myself that what he said was true, that I was safe, that I would be whole again, and that I would no longer feel this panic and pain that controlled my body.

  But I didn’t know if I could believe him. I wasn’t even sure if that was possible.

  Ilyan began to wedge himself under the bed, his tall, wiry frame moving right up against me. I could feel the warmth radiating off of his skin.

  Without thinking, I reached up and pulled at one of the short locks of hair that covered his head. He smiled at the action, his body moving closer as I brought my hand back.

  “I cut it for you, after what you said in Italy. When you couldn’t wake up… I was…” his voice caught, and I could almost swim in the emotion that was emanating from him, the fear and the terror. I knew what he must have felt, because I had felt it too when I was first trapped in the Tȍuha.

  I curled myself into him as he lay beside me, his body wrapping around me tightly. I laid my head against his chest as the space around us filled with his song. Ilyan whispered the words roughly, the sound surrounding me in comfort.

  I stayed stiff in his grip as he sang, his hand rubbing over my back, his lips heavy against the skin on my temple. Deep inside I was still waiting, waiting for someone to attack, waiting for blood to come. Waiting for Ryland to hurt me; Ryland, who wasn’t even safe in the real world anymore. I knew that place was gone. I had made it out, right to where I wanted to be.

  Where I wanted to be.

  I was where I had held out hope that someday I would be again. It was the reason I never forgot his song. My heart had held onto him. And as he clung to me, as he soothed me and held me, I felt everything begin to relax.

  My heart opened me up, taking me away from the panic that still clung to my body and hid deep inside my muscle tissue. I could still feel the panic, fear, and anxiety deep inside of me. I knew it wasn’t gone, but somehow Ilyan made it better. He made my heart calm.

  My heart.

  Love.

  It was so strong. It filled me, consumed me. If I focused on it, I could almost feel normal. Normal. No twitches, no stutters, no rats scurrying through my brain. I could easily remember every moment of my life, every heartbreak, every joy, and every fear. Every moment I’ve shared with every person that ever meant anything to me. And I saw it all with perfect clarity, the emotions sharper than I ever remembered them. They weren’t as raw as the terrors I had escaped from, they were just me. And with just those thoughts inside of me, I could just be me.

  Just a girl. In Ilyan’s arms.

  Slowly I uncoiled my body, my arms disentangling from against my chest, to wrap them around Ilyan. My fingers dug into his shirt, wrapping the fabric around them. I pulled him close to me, and he wrapped his body around mine, keeping me close, keeping me safe.

  Danger was everywhere. Heck, danger was now tucked deep inside my brain. I knew without a doubt I would be haunted by it for the rest of my life. But right here, right now, I was bigger than it. Ilyan made me bigger than it, made me stronger than it.

  Ilyan made me stronger. And here, in his arms, I felt everything open. Every magical vein in my body was alive, surging with fire – with power.

  I wasn’t as scared anymore. I wasn’t as confused. I could do anything.

  I knew where I was going to start. I don’t know if it was based in fear, or pain, or revenge for what he had done to me. But one thing was clear.

  I was going to start by killing Ryland LaRue.

  Join Wyn and Ilyan and find out what happened during the final Tȍuha in Scorched Treachery the next book in the Imdalind Series, which is out now

  If you have Questions about the ending of Eyes of Ember, please read here

  http://www.rebeccaethington.com/2013/04/23/rypov/

  Acknowledgments

  Who could have predicted the outpouring of love and support and kindness I have felt after Kiss of Fire made its debut. I certainly didn’t! I have been overwhelmed by everything that has happened, and continues to happen. I cannot thank you (yes you!) enough for being part of that.

  Thank you for reading, for sharing, for loving, for reviewing, for your eager anticipation. Thank you for your support.

  My fans have blown me away!

  Thank you to my family who has stood by me, and cheered me on.

  Thank you to Kim who stepped in to edit at the last minute and saved the day. Thank you to Sarah whose endless vision creates one amazing cover after another. Thank you to Crystal for the neck rub, and the final edit gloss over – you perfected this piece!

  Thank you to my beta readers and anyone who stepped up with a smile and supported me.

  Truly, you amaze me.

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  About the Author

  Rebecca Ethington has been telling stories since she was small. First, with writing crude scripts, and then in stage with years of theatrical performances. The Imdalind Series is her first stint into the world of literary writing. Rebecca is a mother to two, and wife to her best friend of 14 years. She was born and raised in the mountains of Salt Lake City, and hasn’t found the desire to leave yet. Her days are spent writing, running, and enjoying life with her amazing family.

  Scorched Treachery, the third book in The Imdalind Series is out now

  Soul of Flame, the fourth book in The Imdalind Series is due to be released December 2013

  Rebecca will also be releasing Through Glass, book one in The Glass Series September 20 2013

  And Hit, a YA Contemporary, in November 2013

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  www.rebeccaethington.com

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  @ RebEthington

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  Scorched Treachery

  By

  Rebecca Ethington

  ©Rebecca Ethington

  Chapter One

  It was the same dream. Always the same dream. I had been having it since Cail first marked my skin with the curse, the night Ilyan saved me from my father.

  The dream usually featured a beautiful little girl dancing in a meadow. She danced through the tall grasses with flowers in her blonde hair. After about twenty years, I began wondering if it was some repressed memory, but I didn’t have blonde hair. My hair was dark; it always had been.

  With time, it became clear that I was not the little girl. Instead, I sat and watched her with some guy sitting next to me. I would like to say the guy was handsome, but he wasn’t Talon. No guy could hold a candle to Talon. Talon was tall and built like a football player. This man was sinewy, his coloring lighter. Besides, the mystery guy from my dreams was dressed like Henry the Eighth and there was nothing attractive about that. He looked like a peacock. It didn’t look good then, and it wouldn’t look good now. Not like anyone would dress like that now.

  The dream had always started the same; I sat next to the man in my dreams as he talked, his lips moving, but no sound coming out. Then the dream would morph. The girl, the man, and I would move from the meadow to a village, then to a marble lined room, and then to the darkness. It
was in the darkness that I would begin to hear sound. The only sound the dream ever had was the screaming of the little girl as Edmund tortured her.

  I would hear the screaming and see the man as he fought to save her, and in the back of my mind, I knew I was fighting too.

  The dream was the reason I had never consented to try to have children with Talon. Not only was pregnancy a strange and uncomfortable prospect, but I was scared of what Edmund would do to a child. Everyone was. It was the same reason so few children were born. People had seen what Edmund had done to his own children. It was not worth it to risk him doing the same to their own.

  Up until a few weeks ago, when we first heard the screams of the woman in the tunnels below Prague, the screams of my dream had always ended in the dark room. The more the woman yelled, begged and screamed, the more the dream changed. It lengthened until I watched the girl succumb, her screams dwindling to nothing.

  We could only listen as the woman pleaded to and fought against those who attempted to make her give away Ilyan and Joclyn’s location.

  No matter how hard we looked, we could never find them. Our failure to find them, combined with Ovailia’s decision to keep the information from Ilyan, led to her removal as the další v příkazu and the replacement of Talon in the ruling position. Something I was not happy about.

  Now, he was gone all the time, and the screams of the woman still echoed through the halls.

  So, the new ending to my dreams stayed. The screaming moving from one person to another before I would wake up and scowl at the high ceiling of our room.

  Except this morning. This morning, I was rudely awoken by the blasting of Ilyan’s phone playing ‘In the Hall of the Mountain King’.