Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)

by Rebecca Ethington

  I drove away the burn of pain as my magic rushed to the aches that rippled through my body, healing the bones and tendons that I was sure had fractured. My arms shook as I moved to fight back—ready to face him—when Ryland’s footsteps echoed in my ears. His steps were slow as he moved closer until he towered over me from where I lay on the ground.

  “Do you think you belong to Ilyan then?” Ryland asked, his desperation growing as a deep mania rumbled through his voice. “Is that what you think? Lies… lies… lies…” He growled at the same time his fingers pulled violently at his sagging curls, the words coming over and over. “He lies and you believe him—”

  “Ilyan d-doesn’t lie to m-me!” I screamed in anger as I stood before him. The rocks around me shook and shattered with the waves of my rage.

  Ryland’s eyes widened at my exclamation, his jaw clenching as anger moved into his face.

  “He lies to everyone!” Ryland roared, his magic throwing me into the air like a ragdoll. I felt the hard impact as my body hit the ceiling, only to feel the air rush through my hair as I dropped like a dead weight back to the floor.

  My fingers grasped at nothing as I fell, the descent too quick to even have a chance to stop it. Fire rippled through my bones as one after another they snapped and broke with the impact. My magic throbbed toward the painful shards of the breaks as it took the pain away, as it tried to heal me. I needed to face him—to make him pay—but the broken bits of my body had turned me into a rag doll, leaving me panting and gasping in the middle of a rubble heap.

  I opened my eyes as my body twisted and writhed, only to find Ryland above me, his legs straddling me as they locked me in place. My chest tightened in fear at seeing him there, everything tensing as I fought the pain, fought the fear. Even if I could move, I had nowhere to go.

  “He told me he would keep you safe for me, that I could have you back!” Ryland whimpered as he clawed at his hair, his voice broken in tears while his body rocked in the air above me. I writhed in pain below him as he lowered himself to lie beside me, his body pressing against mine as his hand extended to rest against the skin on my face.

  “I can have you back. Ilyan said, Ilyan said, he said…” Ryland’s words were a painful promise that sliced through my heart. Even though I knew it was a lie, it was the same as it had been on the rooftop when he had looked at me with those black eyes and told me Ilyan loved me for the first time. I could feel the doubt burrowing into me, through the anger and fear that had wound its way up my spine. I didn’t believe him, even though—deep down—I knew.

  “He wouldn’t say that,” I said as I tried to push away from his touch, my voice a grunt through my clenched teeth, willing the words to be true.

  “He did. He did… he did. You belong to me. Mine… mine… mine.” His arm wrapped around me, pulling me against him like we were lovers, the movement of my body rippling through me in an ache of pain and fear.

  He was lying. I knew it. It didn’t matter if he was, though. His words meant nothing to me. I was not a piece of property.

  “I belong to no one!” I spat as I threw Ryland off me and into the stone ceiling. The aggressive force of my power shifted in the air as I sent him into the opposite wall, driving him into the stone.

  “I don’t need anyone! Not to save me, not to own me! I can do this on my own!” My blood boiled as I scrambled back to standing, my hand swiping to the side repeatedly as I sliced through his shirt and cut through his skin with the heat of my power.

  He screamed in pain as I did in anger, blood drizzling over the white of his shirt in rivers of the darkest red. Seeing the brightness of the blood—the color so vivid against the white—stopped me as a chill trailed down my spine, leaving my hand extended in front of me.

  The anger that had clung to me left as he fell from the wall in a heap. I could only stare in horror at the red that drenched his back. I needed to leave, to get out of here. To run away from what I had done.

  I backed up as I tried to remember how to walk—as I attempted to tear my eyes from him—only to see his pale face turn up to me, his fingers flexing as razor-sharp blades soared through the air, slicing across my face. I felt the heat as they cut through the skin, the painful burn as they gashed me open.

  I stumbled back in pain as my hands flew to my face, the warm wetness of my own blood flooding over my skin.

  “You are nothing without me,” he yelled as he approached me, “and even less with Ilyan. If you won’t kill me, then I will gladly kill you. My father was right all along. You are nothing, and you deserve to be dead.”

  “I am NOT nothing!” My voice rumbled, my magic growing as I fired blindly through the rivers of my blood. In my attempt to fight back sparks of electricity and flame flashed through the smoke-filled air.

  “Ilyan!” I shouted through the pain without knowing if I called the words into his head or aloud, not knowing if the barrier I had trapped him in would keep him from me.

  The word escaped my lips just as Ryland pulled me back into him, his body hard against mine, his iron arm pressing me against him. I tried to fight the hold—to move away from the unwanted contact—but he only held on tighter, his face moving closer until I could taste his breath on my tongue.

  “Why do you call for him if he doesn’t own you? Why do you sleep with him? Why do you cling to him?” He hissed his words against me as he held me, my heart stuttering as it fought to beat.

  I just glared into him in response, my eyes narrowed dangerously as his words seeped into me and joined with my anger.

  “You are weak with him! But I can make you strong. I can make you strong enough to be the Silnỳ. Strong enough,” he whispered, letting the pressure he held me with drop just enough that I gasped for air, “for me.”

  My breath was stuck in my chest as his hands ran over my face, the touch acid and ice as my magic fought against his. I gasped at the contact, but he only smiled as though he thought I enjoyed it. Could he not feel the burn, the way his magic raged through me? I could see in his smile that he couldn’t. He believed in what he was saying, every word; that I belonged to him.

  It was what was behind the words that scared me—the possessiveness, the control. I could see the danger in his eyes and hear the violence in his voice, and it boiled through me, hot and angry, as my magic moved to match it.

  “I don’t need you!” My words sounded more like the roar of a thunderstorm as my magic rocked through the air, pulsing in a wave of white light as Ryland stumbled away from me.

  My feet left the ground as my magic picked me up, speeding me through the air only to land above him, straddling him as he had me.

  “I can do this on my own! I was born to do this! I am the Silnỳ!” His hair whipped around his face as I yelled at him.

  “Are you?” Ryland asked, his weak voice mocking from underneath me. “You have all the magic in the world and you can’t conjure enough to kill me.” He smiled again, his teeth red with his blood, his eyes dark and dangerous. “If you won’t take me… kill me! Kill me! Kill me!”

  It was enough. I felt the anger snap into a wave of loathing, the emotion so strong and hot that I willingly let it take over me. I let it rule over me. I wouldn’t let him do this anymore.

  “I won’t let you hurt me!” The air around me rippled as the hurricane of my anger surged, pulling in the magic that surrounded me and sending it right into Ryland as I lifted him out from under me. I suspended him in the air, the whirlwind I had created circling closer and closer as it compressed against him.

  “You deserve to die!”

  The tanned skin of his face faded to white before the red of his lips painted blue. He clawed at his neck as an invisible force squeezed the life out of him. I only smiled as I watched him fight it, knowing it was pointless, knowing I wouldn’t let him get away.

  His hands stopped fighting as his eyes began to close, his body moments away from death. I wanted to watch him die. I wanted to see his legs stop kicking. I wanted to see the l
ast tendrils of life leave him.

  I was going to be the one to do it.

  Eight

  Ryland’s eyes opened in horror, his mouth gaping as the last of his air left him, his body moments away from giving in. I was going to see his end; see the final breath of the boy who had haunted me and hurt me more times than I could count.

  The boy I had loved once.

  If only Ilyan hadn’t barreled into my side, his arms wrapping around me as he knocked me to the ground. Ilyan’s warm magic surrounded me in a rush, the flow only a futile attempt to calm me. I wouldn’t let it. I just screamed louder, letting my magic surge as I blocked him, attempting to finish what I had started.

  “Stop, Joclyn!” A rough surge of Ilyan’s magic encapsulated around us as he yelled, breaking my connection to Ryland. The wind that had been a torrent in the room left, a loud slap of flesh against stone signaling Ryland’s fall to the ground.

  I fought against Ilyan’s hold, desperate to get back to Ryland, to wrap my hands around his neck, to take his life another way. Ilyan only locked his hands tighter around me, keeping me in place.

  “Let me go,” I yelled again, my movements rough and volatile in my attempt to escape.

  “No! Joclyn!” Ilyan yelled, but I couldn’t hear him through my screams.

  His hands held strong, his magic surging through me as he tried to calm me and my magic, but I wouldn’t let him. I continued to thrash beside him until he moved over me, his hands on my forearms and his legs pinning mine down. He should have crushed me, but his hold was gentle with only enough pressure to keep me in place. He flared his magic harder against my skin as he tried to calm me, my magic still restricting him even though my heart—my very soul—begged me to accept him.

  All I felt was anger and hatred and heartache, and before I knew it, I was fighting him again, his face crestfallen as I screamed at him in agony. I didn’t want to let Ilyan in; I didn’t want him to take away the rage that filled me. I liked the way the anger felt, the way it bubbled and grew and made me feel something besides jitters. I liked the way it made me feel alive.

  I only wanted one thing, the thing that Ilyan had taken away from me.

  “I want to kill him!” I growled through gritted teeth, my hands clenching and unclenching as I fought the need to attack Ilyan, something I knew would end in my defeat.

  “No, Joclyn, you don’t.” His voice was calm as his thumbs ran over my forearms, something that should have calmed me only aggravating me more.

  “I do!” I said between the tears, the dreaded things joining in my battle as my emotions swelled. “I don’t want him to hurt me anymore! He deserves to die!”

  “No, my love, no,” Ilyan whispered while he lifted me off the ground, his grip strong as he began to pull me away.

  I let my heels grind into the rubble-strewn floor as I tried to fight him, but it was no use; he only kept moving.

  My body felt heavy in exhaustion, my overused emotions making my magic slow and sluggish. I couldn’t fight my way out of Ilyan’s hold if I tried.

  I yelled out in outrage one last time before I caught sight of Ryland, folded over as he tried to regain breath, Sain wrapping his arms around him in comfort.

  Sain.

  My father had gone to Ryland first. He didn’t even look at me as I screamed and writhed against Ilyan’s hold. He only denied me yet again.

  I stopped fighting, everything stiff in shock before my rage grew as Ilyan dragged me away from the rubble I had created, from the battle he would have me lose.

  From the father that I would never truly have.

  I continued to scream as Ilyan pulled me around the corner and away from them, his magic pressing against the Štít—against my skin—but I wouldn’t let him in.

  “Put me down!” I screamed as he plunged us through the halls, his pace quick in an attempt to put as much space as possible between Ryland and me.

  “Let me do it!” The words ripped from my throat as the door closed behind us, the heavy wooden slab shutting us into our darkened room.

  Lights flared through the space as Ilyan’s magic sparked them, taking away the heavy clouds that hung over the oppressive darkness from what should have been a bright, dawn sky.

  Ilyan said nothing; he only moved us farther into the room until he released me, letting me fall onto my hands and knees on the hard, cold stone.

  I could hear his labored breathing as he stood behind me, his strenuous huffs matching mine as his magic still pressed against me. My magic quivered in exhaustion as I fought him, as I forced his out of me, closing off the Štít and the connection we shared.

  “Let me in, my love. Your soul will not be able to calm if you don’t let me in.” Ilyan’s words were soft, but they had the opposite effect on me.

  I turned toward him, my jaw tightening as Ryland’s words came right back, whether I wanted them to or not.

  I was weak, and Ilyan had exposed my instability.

  My magic throbbed at the betrayal, causing the heavy alabaster chandelier that hung above the bed to tremor.

  “Focus on what is behind your anger,” Ilyan advised calmly, ignoring the glare I shot toward him, the feral animal that seemed to have taken control. His eyes smoldered as he once again attempted to push his magic into me while the angry barrier I had built kept him out. His face cringed at the realization, his hurt emotions swirling toward me. I pushed them away—not wanting to feel them—yet I couldn’t keep them out, not entirely.

  “Nothing is behind my anger! Not right now!” I screamed at his face, my body seeming to rebel against the lie. I hated how my heart clenched up, how the wrath ebbed and the guilt attempted to take its place. I knew what was behind my anger. I saw him standing right in front of me. I just didn’t want to admit it.

  I looked into his face before I cried out in confused agony, my fingers weaving through my hair and pulling out more of the braid Ilyan had worked so hard on.

  “I want to kill him!” I moaned in anguish, letting the foremost desire take control.

  “No, mi lasko.” Ilyan’s voice came from right above me as he hovered, attempting to protect me from myself. He wasn’t going to leave me alone anytime soon, no matter how much I wanted him to.

  I wanted him to leave me. I wanted to run back to Ryland and finish the job. I wanted to yell and scream and destroy things. Everything in me felt so tight, so angry. I needed to let the flames out.

  My hands moved from the now-destroyed braid to knead and grind into the unforgiving stone below me, my magic sparking from the tips of my fingers as it tried to escape the flood of pain that had trapped me.

  “Let me kill him. I want to kill him,” I pleaded, my voice deep and menacing as I ground it between my teeth.

  “No, my love, that is not true. You need to calm—”

  “I don’t want to calm down!” I erupted at Ilyan’s serene voice, my body moving to stand in one swift movement as I turned to face him. I clamped my teeth as my fists writhed together, my neck muscles straining.

  “You used me! You lied to me!”

  Ilyan’s eyes widened at my outburst; his normally stoic face shattered in confusion.

  “I did nothing of the sort!”

  “You are supposed to protect me and you didn’t! You sold me to the wolves!”

  “I cannot protect you when you leave in the middle of the night.” Ilyan’s accent amplified as the lines in his face began to deepen in displeasure. I should have been afraid—I should have backed off—but my feet stayed planted. My fists remained tied in tight little rocks.

  “I tried to save Dramin! I tried to heal my brother. I failed. And he found me. He hurt me! I want to kill him. That way you can never sell me to him.”

  “Sell you? Vat are you talking about?” His words were almost unrecognizable through his heightened accent, his final attempts to comfort me drifting away as his face darkened.

  “You said that to him, didn’t you?” I spat, my fists compressed at my sides as I tri
ed to keep my magic restrained, to stop myself from hurting him. “You fell in love with some fantasy of me eight hundred years ago. Then, when you met me, you didn’t like me. You don’t want me. Even after the last few days. It was all a ploy, wasn’t it? It was all a lie. You want me to die when the battle starts, just as the sight has shown.”

  I wasn’t sure if I believed the words or not, but part of me knew that I did… Deep down, I did. Ryland’s cruel words had only fueled that fire, revealing the deepest regret and worry that had hidden in the dark pit of my mind. It burned through me like a red-hot branding iron, the misery that my fears had held captive rolling over me.

  I dug my nails into my palms and fought my tears, keeping my eyes trained on Ilyan.

  “Joclyn, my love, that isn’t true,” he whispered, his hand moving forward to rest on my hip, but I pushed him away, not wanting to feel what I wasn’t sure I could have anymore.

  “You told him you were saving me for him,” I interrupted him, the deep ripple of my words making my whisper sound like a rumble.

  “Tak jsem to nemyslel.,” Ilyan mumbled, his teeth clenched as his animosity grew. I felt his emotion rush into me through the wall I had forged against him, the jolt of pain that stabbed into my stomach almost taking my breath away.

  I stared at him, waiting for him to translate, but he said nothing; he only stared straight ahead, away from me, as the muscles in his jaw clenched. I had seen that look before, the way he battled over himself, over what to say. Over who to be. Now that battle raged right before me, over what he had said about me.

  I stood still as I waited for him to deny it, yet nothing came. His eyes dimmed as he finally met my intense stare, the regret and the unspoken apology as deep as an affirmation to me.

  “You did?” I asked, flabbergasted that he had ever said such a thing, while he remained silent. My anger prickled again at the silent acknowledgment. “When?” I asked breathlessly, the words barely tumbling out in my agonized shock.