It was the only thing that made sense, out of the limited knowledge I had of magic. I felt like I was sifting through sand in search of a diamond as I tried to understand what Sain had been talking about.
“No, my love,” Ilyan whispered to me, his hand running down my face as he moved my hair out of my eyes. I could hear his thoughts as they trickled down to me; the promise to never bind himself to me until I was ready still strong.
“Then what is it?” I asked, my stomach tightly wound in fear.
“I am not sure. It is lore. If it is true, I can tell you that it is so much more than a Zȇlství …” He said nothing more as he held me against him, our eyes closing in harmony as our magic met, moving together. I could hear Ilyan’s thoughts trickle down to me, his mind tripping around thoughts and words and languages until it was a jumbled mess that got lost in the air between us.
“Ilyan?” my father asked, his voice soft as he interrupted us. “May I see your hand?”
Ilyan eyed him skeptically before he moved away from me. His steps were slow as he removed the heavy bandages he kept around the burn, allowing my father to see. I stood still against the table as Thom also came forward to see the dark red marks that Ilyan had given himself.
Ugly divots of black and blood red covered Ilyan’s entire palm, the burn stretched along the backs of his fingers and up his wrist. The angry, red skin was still glossy as it worked to heal itself, the burn not more than a day or two old. I had seen it last night, and even then I had been aware that it would never heal, not in the way the marks on his chest had. He would wear these painful scars forever.
“That would be why I despise that poison,” Thom said, his voice crinkling in disgust. He looked like he wanted to move away, but he held still, almost as if he couldn’t help himself from looking at the burns. It was the same look he had given me when Dramin had first given me the water, like it had offended him.
The problem was that his look was offending me. Ilyan’s hand looked terrible, but without that sacrifice and without the water, I wouldn’t be here.
“That poison saved me,” I said, the anger rippling through me. Thom lifted his eyes to meet mine, though he only rolled them and looked away, mumbling something about Dramin that I couldn’t hear. Ilyan’s back stiffened at his comment, but he said nothing, his muscles rippling under the dark cotton t-shirt he wore.
“This is very deep. I don’t think I have even seen one this deep before,” Sain whispered, his fingers prodding the sore skin, which caused Ilyan to jerk in pain. I jumped as Ilyan did, my fist reaching up to wind its way around the fabric of his shirt.
“Are all your burns tied to Joclyn in some way?” Sain glanced at Ilyan, his bushy eyebrows disappearing into his unkempt hair.
“Yes,” Ilyan replied through his teeth, his pain pulsing stronger the longer Sain touched the burns.
I didn’t like the way his muscles twitched as he restrained his agony. When I stepped up to him, wrapping my arms around his chest, his muscles tensed under me, the shadow of his pain flowing through me from the Štít. I buried my face into Ilyan’s chest as my magic worked to calm him, the scent of his shirt full of his magic.
“You are not privileged enough to touch the Black Water so frequently,” Sain said, his eyes not lifting from Ilyan’s hand.
Even I didn’t miss the slight disgust in Sain’s voice over Ilyan’s supposed disgrace of what Sain viewed as holy. To me, Black Water was still just food.
“I do not think this is a matter of privilege, Sain,” Ilyan said as he took his hand back from my father. “And not all hold your views of the Water. You would do well to remember that.”
Ilyan’s fingers were tense and stiff before he placed the burned skin of his hand against my arm, his magic surging alongside mine at the contact. His body calmed as my touch took away the pain that had fired through his blood, my skin almost acting like Novocain to him.
“You are not a Drak, Ilyan,” Sain countered, his voice full of scolding.
Ilyan tensed against me at Sain’s foolish comment. Even Thom backed up, shaking his head at Sain’s pride.
Ilyan was King, though I wasn’t sure if that title applied to my father. My father was one of the first of all magic. For all I knew, Ilyan should bow to him, but judging by the reactions of those around me, I guessed not.
“The water reacts differently to you than it does to my kind,” Sain plowed on, oblivious to Ilyan’s wrath that was about to release. “The water is part of me, fused with me body and soul, as it is with Joclyn.”
I stifled the gasp that tried to fight its way out of me; I had never thought of the Black Water being part of me that way. Although, in some ways, I had felt it; I had felt how my blood pulled at me, how it warmed after sights. The tone in Sain’s voice made it sound much more ominous, though, like it controlled me, instead of the other way around.
“When one who is not a Drak touches the Black Water, it infects their soul, like a poison. That is what enables us to give you sight. To peek into your future or your past, but you purposefully burned yourself to save her, and the Water moved into your soul in an attempt to infect it, to give you sight. Your body cannot handle such a change, so instead, it clung to your soul as you poured the water into Joclyn. Then, in its attempt to recreate you, the water sought out the magic of a Drak and your souls were fused together. Permanently.”
Permanently? I asked in silence, the word not frightening me as much as I knew it should.
Ilyan looked away from my father at my question, his eyes catching mine as he unwound his arms from me. The flow of his magic spiked in a wave of warmth.
“He means, my love, that this… this connection between us can never be undone.” Ilyan’s hand moved away from my shoulder as he spoke, his burned fingers soft against my skin as they ran over my neck toward my mark.
I know what permanently means, Ilyan, I said into his mind. He smiled at my comment.
My lip twitched, my own grin trying to sneak past my nerves.
“Do you resent my choice?” Ilyan asked, his touch gentle as his hands moved down my arm to clasp my hand.
“No, Ilyan, never,” I said, my words calm and controlled. Do you regret it?
“For you, I regret nothing,” Ilyan breathed as he pressed his forehead against mine.
I pulled his magic into me in the stolen moment before Ilyan straightened, his back returning to its regal pose as he turned to face my father. “Sain, tell me. What I feel for your daughter, what I hope she feels for me—”
“Do I have time to leave?” Thom interrupted, obviously sensing where the conversation was going. I smiled at his outburst, but didn’t look away from the depth of Ilyan’s eyes that had captured me. I didn’t want to.
“How much has this connection influenced that?” Ilyan asked, his voice calm and strong, even though I could feel the worry behind it. My own apprehension grew, the question I hadn’t even thought to ask clenching my heart.
I felt so comfortable with Ilyan; everything felt so right. I didn’t want to think of that being a forced reaction from our woven souls, that it wasn’t real.
I knew I had felt the connection before. I had first recognized it when he lay unconscious in the cave, but it had grown since then. That alone promised me how real this was.
“It is your souls that are fused, Ilyan. Not your hearts,” Sain said, his face breaking into a wide grin that flashed a million childhood memories into my eyes. “Your future together may be defined—your essence combined—but your emotions? Your love? That was there before any seal took place. Without love, you wouldn’t have willingly sacrificed yourself for her. Without love, her heart wouldn’t have called to you and given you a way to find her. It was always there. It always will be.”
My heart relaxed as Ilyan’s did—mine in gratitude, his in eager anticipation.
“What will this do when we perform the bonding ceremony? What might happen to us?” Ilyan asked smoothly, his choice of words a lightning bolt
through my nerves.
When.
Ilyan spoke of something akin to marriage, and I fought the blush that threatened to cover my face.
Sain bounced on his heels in eager anticipation, the bright-eyed look making me uncomfortable.
“When?” Thom spat, his irritation growing as the same word gave him a completely different reaction. “Surely not right now. You’ll at least give me time to leave, right?” Thom growled, his scowl growing before he turned away to focus on the map in an obvious attempt to drown us out. I was surprised he had stuck around all this time.
“I do not know, My Lord. As you said, this was only lore until now. You were lore, my dear child,” he said, his eyes darting to me as his voice echoed. “The treasured sight of a child who would come forth and save us all from the destruction that Edmund has brought.”
“You should be more worried about what your fused souls are going to do to the sight,” Thom said loudly as he smacked the table in frustration, causing me to jump at the sound. “The Silnỳ will still be able to fight, right?”
His desperate panic moved back into him again as he walked over to us, his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. I had never seen him look so haggard, as though he was going to snap any minute.
“I’m right here,” I mumbled, trying not to let my frustration bristle at being referred to like a dog that had been taught tricks.
No one seemed to hear my quiet voice. Thom didn’t even look at me before Ilyan’s arm tightened me against him, his voice raising as he faced his brother.
“The sight has shown she will fight, so she will fight. I believe in her ability to do so,” Ilyan said as he held me against him protectively.
“Yeah, but did the sight say Ilyan was going to go off and fuse his soul to hers?” Thom asked as his hands jumped from his pockets, the movement so quick that I jerked in the expectation of being hit.
I flinched like a wounded dog, the action making Thom’s eyes glare into me more. The fear that lived in him turned into disgust that made me feel worse, made my anxiety jolt.
“No!” Thom snapped, his tirade continuing on as if he hadn’t noticed the way his action had affected me. Or maybe he had. “We have no idea how this is going to change her magic, her ability. She may be useless to us now.”
“Useless?” I spat, a strong, jagged edge of anger running through me. Right then, he only saw me as a thing, a pawn.
“It has made my magic stronger, Thom,” I said, my voice shaking even though I had tried to push the strength of the anger into it.
Thom only looked at me with the same disbelief he had held before.
“She will rise to the path the sight has chosen for her. I expect nothing less from her,” Sain said, his voice deep and mellow.
His words promised his confidence in me, but he did not look into me with the pride my mother always had. He looked at me with a reverent awe, almost as if I was untouchable.
Like I was a god to him.
The thought made me sick to my stomach.
“I would hope not, considering that now we are surrounded by hundreds of blood-thirsty Trpaslíks. You ready to face that, Silnỳ?” Thom turned to me with the same hard look in his eyes, the plea for an answer digging through me.
I wanted to tell him yes. I wanted to say I was strong enough—that I was ready—but I knew it would be a lie, so I held still, my arms clinging to Ilyan even though I was aware it made me look weak. I needed the rock of him underneath me.
Thom’s eyes narrowed at my lack of response, the fear in my eyes giving him all he needed to know.
“Didn’t think so,” he growled before he turned away, his back crouching dejectedly.
“You must find your strength to protect her, to be near her, for it is only by your side that she can find her true purpose, that she will find the strength to kill those that would end the magic of the world.” Ilyan’s words flowed from him, the air rippling with the power that they held as my blood warmed. The second the last word left him, thunder rumbled around us, the sky opening up as if the earth felt the power as well.
“The words of the sight, Thom,” Ilyan continued. His voice lowered as the air continued to crackle with an electric charge. “You should know better than to doubt them. Joclyn has been given this path, and this power, for a reason. Without them, Wynifred would have never survived the zánik curse.”
Something that Ilyan said had hit a live wire in Thom. He spun around to face us, his dreads swinging as the fire in him turned into a torrent. “And Dramin would be standing next to us, not dying in his room.”
I cringed at the snap of Thom’s voice. My anxiety flared in warning, the unwanted fears breaking through as he glared into me.
“D-dying?” I stuttered out, unable to look away from Thom, even though I knew I should look anywhere other than at the face that was fueling my fear.
I couldn’t. Because, even though I could feel his anger, all I could see was the pain. It wasn’t the fearful looks I had been given in the Tȍuha. No, it was the same raw fear, the same heart-breaking anger that I had felt every time the demons of the Tȍuha had come after me. It made it so I could almost understand him. I heard the pain that seeing Dramin injured had caused him, the fear of losing someone so close to him.
My eyes widened as Thom came undone right before me.
“Yes, Silnỳ,” Thom snapped. “When you attacked him, you killed his magic. Ilyan has been able to revive it, but it never stays, his magic keeps fading to nothing. He’s an ancient. How long do you think his mortal body will last without his magic?”
“I-I didn’t… I th-thought…” I stuttered out, not knowing what to say to take away his pain. How to explain the regret I had felt after the attack had left my hands days ago, the fear that rocked through me now.
“You tried to kill him!” Thom yelled, the blue of his eyes glossing over as his face turned red.
“Thomas Krul!” Ilyan roared as he stepped toward his brother, blocking me from Thom’s rage. His magic flared while Thom cowered before him. Ilyan’s muscles rippled as he stood protectively in front of me, his arms spread wide as he shielded me.
I should have been grateful for the protection, for Ilyan’s willingness to stand up to him right then, but I couldn’t. I was too focused on Dramin’s sleeping body in his room across the abbey; on the gentle lull from all that was left of his magic, on the way he didn’t move. Thom had spoken as if Dramin was moments away from death, and now I could feel that in him.
He couldn’t die, though.
I wouldn’t let him.
Four
My sanity was slipping away, just like it had last night when I had run to Wyn.
I had run from the others without thinking, my feet pounding down the halls toward the weak spark of Dramin’s magic that called to me from the other side of the abbey. I tried to ignore the way the walls that surrounded me crumbled and warped in my subconscious, but it was no use. Thom’s anger echoed through my mind as I moved, flaring my fears, and the horrors of my insanity followed me even though I could still see reality clearly through my eyes. It had all become two parallel universes working against each other in an attempt to drive me mad.
I clenched my teeth as my heartbeat quickened, my hands running along the walls as I struggled to stay standing. I turned the last corner at full speed, my magic opening the door in front of me to a large, dark room less than a quarter of the size of Ilyan’s. The blue light of night seeped in through one of the large windows, casting everything in shadows. The room was a cluttered mess with piles of books, stacks of paper, and shelves that lined his walls. Each shelf was full of the earthen brown mugs from Imdalind, each full of Black Water. In the middle of it all, Dramin lay still on a small, white bed, the blankets pulled up to his chest.
He lay completely motionless, a ribbon of moonlight laying over him, enhancing the dark purple rings which hung like dirty hammocks under his eyes, his skin an ashen grey that matched the ancient stone of the wall
s. Someone had placed his hands one over the other on his chest; the same way my great-grandmother’s had been at her funeral, as I am sure my mother’s had been when they buried her. It was as if whoever had placed him there had thought him dead.
Except he wasn’t dead; I could see him breathe, feel the weak pulse of his magic that was buried deep inside him.
I had known that I had attacked him—that he was weak—but somehow, seeing him like this made it all the more real. The thoughts of coming battles and the war I was expected to win vanished in a wisp of smoke. They didn’t mean anything anymore, not as much as what I had done to Dramin.
My body folded into itself as a violent surge of regret wound through me, tensing my muscles. Ilyan’s arm wrapped around me as he came up behind me, pulling me into him. I felt Thom and Sain step into the room, but I didn’t turn to acknowledge any of them. I couldn’t look away from the steady rise and fall of Dramin’s chest, my heart pounding against my ribs until they hurt.
I did this, I hissed into Ilyan’s mind, my anger igniting the words viciously.
“You had reason,” Ilyan whispered, his voice calm despite the worry I felt run through him.
“I had-d no reas-son to at-tack my b-brother,” I stuttered, the acknowledgment that he was my brother an iron barb in my heart.
The world broke around me as I felt the hard stone floor slam against my knees. The impact ricocheted through my bones, my shame breaking free in a wail of agony and fear.
“Joclyn?” my father asked, his confused question drowned out by my howl.
“I d-d-did this. I k-killed h-him!” I cried into the floor, my voice as broken and strained as when I had been trapped, when I couldn’t remember anything. I stared at the floor, the creases between the stone turning red with blood that was not there.
“No, my love,” Ilyan whispered against me, his arms wrapping around me as he kneeled down beside me.
“I h-had-d n-no re-reason.” Tears flowed from my eyes as I tried to pull away, his arms loosening just enough so I could look at him.
Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4) Page 4
