The flashes and rumbles were so close together that they sky could barely breathe before the next strike came. I watched them, knowing what they meant, my heart breaking as they came closer. As my time grew shorter. The earth knew what was coming, and she was preparing the way.
I listened to the grinding of wood as Ilyan pulled clothes out of the dresser—the sound almost as loud as the thunder—and still I did not move. I wasn’t in any hurry, anyway. It wasn’t like I had many choices of what to wear anyway. What does one wear to the day they die?
My love, Ilyan whispered internally as he kneeled down before me, his glistening eyes hooded as they swallowed me whole. He set a small pile of clothes beside me before gathering my hands in his, his magic warming through me as my skin prickled with the touch. While not as strong as it had been in the Tȍuha, it was still more than it had been before the bonding—more than I had ever felt—and I smiled at the contact, even though my heart beat irregularly in fear.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Ilyan promised, the impossible words like ash against my soul.
“Please don’t, Ilyan,” I begged, my voice dragging as I looked down to our intertwined hands. I couldn’t hear him say something like this. I couldn’t let the false hope into my heart.
“Don’t say things that you can’t control.”
“I may not be able to guarantee your life, but I will protect you. I promise you this with my very breath.”
I looked up to him. The promise that he would do what he had trained for—what he had been born for—threatened to shatter me into millions of tiny fragments.
“This morning, I hold the hands of my mate in mine. I hold her heart inside of me, and I vow to protect her. To protect you. To keep you safe, and alive, at all costs. I will follow my heart, and keep my mate safe. Because it is right.”
Ilyan repeated the words that I had battled with my father over for the past few days. It was more than that, though. He had made a vow that could very well break the sight, if it hadn’t been broken already. The unspoken support rang through me, the promise of what we could lose, of what we did not want to lose.
What I didn’t want to lose.
I didn’t want to lose the feel of his touch; I didn’t want to lose his smile. I didn’t want to lose the way he had helped me through the biggest trials in my life. I didn’t want to lose him. I just didn’t know if it was possible, not anymore. After last night, after seeing that box and feeling my magic flare with knowledge, I knew. The magic inside of me knew. We couldn’t change it.
No matter what my father had said.
Right then, looking into his eyes, I wanted to change it. I wanted to break the sight and experience an eternity with him, experience life, have the future that the sight told me I could never have. I knew, right then, I would give anything to change it.
I nodded once, not knowing what else to say, as he pressed his lips to my hands.
He said no more. His kiss left as he stood, leaving me alone as he walked into the bathroom, the pile of clothes by my side. I heard the click of the door and stood, stripping off Ilyan’s lightweight pajamas that I had been wearing for what felt like days to replace them with what I recognized at once as what I had worn in the sight.
I pulled on the dark washed jeans Ilyan had brought, almost afraid he would come back before I had the chance to change. The chill of the diamond shocked me as I stripped off my shirt, the necklace cold and hard against my chest. I had forgotten that Ilyan had put it on me. I didn’t know why, but it almost seemed fitting that I would be wearing it when everything ended. I pulled my shirt over the necklace, keeping it under the fabric where it would be safe; where it would stay with me.
The white shirt seemed like a weird choice given the full scale battle I was expected to go into. I didn’t question it, though; I only pulled it over my head, careful not to disrupt the braid, and then pulled as much of the long golden ribbon that trailed through my shirt as I could. I slipped my shoes on and stood in front of the bed, my eyes focused on the wad of fabric that still lay on the comforter as I heard the bathroom door open.
My fingers wrapped around the heavy fabric of the hoodie as I lifted it up. It seemed weird to be holding this in my hands, to be rebelling against putting it on.
I had hidden behind one of these almost my whole life, scared to really find myself, but I had found myself. I had cast the hoodies aside, moved beyond them. Even when I was trapped in Cail’s mind as well as after Ilyan had pulled me out, I had never really wanted to hide again. I had merely wanted to become stronger than what haunted me.
I was stronger than it now.
“A hoodie?”
“Yes,” Ilyan said softly as he came up beside me, taking the fabric from my hands.
“I can hear what is on your mind, my love. I can feel your strength, I know that you do not need this.”
“Then why give it to me?”
“Because it is cold outside,” he said as he gathered up the material, ready to help me into it. I pursed my lips as he held it up to me. I knew that wasn’t his only reason. I could hear the secret in his voice, see the caution behind his eyes.
I sighed and lowered my head as he moved the fabric around the braid, careful not to disrupt any of his artwork as he placed the sweater over my head.
“Why else?” I asked as I emerged from the mass of fabric, unsurprised to see the corner of Ilyan’s lips turn up, his eyes still avoiding mine.
“This braid is my gift to you, my Joclyn. It is a piece of my heart and soul, and meant only for you. The hood will help you keep that sacred until the time is right to tell the world.” His eyes ran over the braid before meeting mine, the softness of the blue like a billowing cloud that I found myself getting lost in.
I nodded my head once in understanding, knowing that he was right. Right now, this moment was just between us.
“I will be with you, my love.”
“Until the end,” I whispered as the mischievous light from his eyes seeped into me.
He pulled the braid from the neckline, the long string of golden ribbon sliding up my back as he pulled out the full length. I had thought I had gotten it all when I had changed shirts, but apparently not; the strand stretched all the way to the floor.
I pulled at the long, golden ribbon, the texture soft as it flowed over the palm of my hand, like feathers and wind, the golden surface glinting as it came in contact with my magic.
“That is the délka vedení královského,” Ilyan whispered, his hand moving to run the length of the ribbon right along mine.
“The what?”
“Come here,” Ilyan whispered, his hand wrapping around mine as he led me to the bathroom where the large, ornate mirrors stood above the sink. He turned me around, tilting one of the mirrors enough that I could see the braid that Ilyan had placed in my hair, my jaw dropping in disbelief at what I was seeing.
My hair had been turned into a bouquet of roses. Rose buds of woven hair shot off from the braid, the ribbons winding together to make each delicate flower, and the golden ribbon intertwined through all of them, the string touching every part of the braid he had given me.
“It’s beautiful,” I gasped, knowing that the word was not enough to convey what I truly saw.
“Each flower is my vow to you,” he said, his finger trailing over each one, his fingers soft as if he was touching antique china, which I guess in some ways he was.
“My heart,” he said as he brushed the first rose. “My soul,” he said as his fingers moved to the next one. “My devotion, my life,” he finished as his fingers touched each one before moving to the golden ribbon that moved through my hair so completely I wasn’t sure how he had gotten it into the intricate braid.
“And the délka vedení královského—the length of the royal line. This ribbon is one of two, wound from fibers of gold mined below Prague. It is the sign of your position of power. What you now mean to me and to my people.” His fingers continually moved over t
he ribbon, his touch so soft I could barely feel it.
“The king and queen are to wear the délka vedení královského every day, and I will bind it in your hair every morning… so that everyone will know,” his arms wrapped around my waist as his fingers left the braid, pulling me against him as our eyes met through the mirror, “that you are my queen. My life.”
My heart thumped wildly in my chest at the thought as the deep reality of what had happened hit me. Queen. The thought was like ice and adrenaline, the combination sending my heart into palpitations so fast that I was sure Ilyan would notice.
I stared at him through the mirror, the light in his eyes calming me as the love I felt for him flared.
I had bound myself to Ilyan, and I would do it again because I loved him. I had not bound myself to his title, however, his title was an integral part of him, and I loved that side of him as much as I loved the side that he only showed to me. I would take this on me because it was worth it, because he was worth it. Because I loved him.
“Where is yours?” I asked, my voice shaking as the last of my anxiety left me. “Your délka vedení královskéh,” I said, knowing I messed up the pronunciation somehow.
Ilyan’s lips twitched through the mirror before he kneeled down behind me, his fingers unwinding the long string from where he had concealed it around his ankle.
He held the mass of golden ribbon out to me as he stood. The ribbon tangled and crinkled in places, making it obvious that he had hidden it there for centuries. I knew at once why; it was the same as when he had cut his hair. He had been hiding something that he wasn’t sure he would ever have. Except he had it now.
I looked at it carefully, my fingers fluttering above the ribbon before I took it in my hand, the length still warm from being against his skin.
I said nothing as I grabbed his hand, my grip light as I led him to the bed, my eyes pleading with him before he sat, his hair growing in anticipation of what I was about to do.
I crawled over the bed to kneel behind him, the golden ribbon held tightly in my hand as I leaned against his back.
Don’t expect anything spectacular, I whispered to him, my voice soft within his mind.
I expect only what you have to give me, he returned. My heart soared at the sound of his voice in my head.
My fingers searched through the nest of gold until I found the end, the frayed edges soft like goose feathers. I pulled at the end until it came free, my chest quivering with nerves as I exhaled, willing my stress away.
Everything in me shook as I ran my fingers through his hair, knowing I would barely be able to manage a simple French braid if I was lucky.
I kept the ribbon tight in his silky hair as I weaved the strands together. The knuckles on my fingers shook as I tried to keep the tension right, knowing I was pulling too hard at times. Without the amazing skill that Ilyan had, my simple braid was done quickly, my fingers wrapping the golden length around his hair from the base of his neck, surrounding the braid as I tightened the string, praying that it would be enough to keep it in place.
I knew it wasn’t as good as it could have been; my shaking fingers had made it a little bit off center, but it was done. Sloppiness and all, it was probably the most treasured thing I had ever done.
I ran my fingers down the braid I had given him, my lips pressing against his lavender-scented hair as I sealed my gift to him. He reached back as my hand grazed over the skin of his neck, capturing my hand in his as he brought it to his lips.
“Thank you, my forever, for giving me this gift.”
I stared into his eyes, unsure how to answer; his breath was soft and warm as it ran over my hand. He kept it there, holding me in place as his thoughts and worries floated over me, his mind full of the image from the sight—the way he held my limp body, the way he howled to the sky. I flinched as the image burned into my mind, my heart tightening uncomfortably with the pressure.
“It will be all right, my love,” Ilyan whispered, his hand finally releasing mine from his grasp.
He opened his mouth to say something more when a loud, frantic knock sounded on the door, the surprising sound sending my heart into matching frantic palpitations that Ilyan’s magic soothed at once.
We both had stiffened at the sound, Ilyan’s eyes closing as mine lifted to the heavy door, another knock coming soon after the first.
“My Lord,” Sain’s voice came through the wood, causing my shoulders to knit together. “We are in need of your assistance.”
I looked away from the door to Ilyan who was now staring at me, his hands wrapping around mine as he pulled me toward him. His fingers traced over the skin of my neck, and I tensed, expecting his fingers to brush over my neck to touch my mark, but they never did. The softness of his fingers skimmed around the edges, careful not to touch it.
“Are you ready?” he asked, but I could only stare at him.
I knew I never would be. How do you walk into what is sure to be certain death? I don’t think there is a way to. Not without tears. Not without fear. I could feel both, but there was a difference. I was stronger than my panic. Stronger than the girl who had been thrown out the window; stronger than the girl who had run from Ryland.
I might not be able to defeat death, yet I could meet it head on.
I pushed the tears away and squared my jaw as I faced Ilyan, pulling the hood over my head as we walked to the door, making sure that the flowers in my hair were concealed, guarding the commitment I had bound myself in. I could feel the intricate braid through the fabric, felt his warmth within me, and I knew that Wyn had been right.
I had known there was only a day, and I would gladly make the choice all over again.
Because it was worth it.
Twenty-One
Ilyan led us toward the kitchen, one hand wrapped around mine and the other carrying the large duffle bag that I could only assume held all of his belongings. The hallway seemed darker as we walked; the old, grey stones looked black in the dim light of the hall that stretched on forever.
I tried to keep my breathing even in order to stop the fearful shake that seized through my torso, but it came anyway. The panic was just enough to keep me aware while I fought to keep the demons away.
The kitchen door was a tall slab of wood like all the others, but it might as well have been iron bars for how it felt against my soul. I let out one last shaking breath as we stopped before it, Ilyan’s grip on my hand tightening.
We just stood, staring at the door, knowing what it meant. Ilyan’s terrors ran through my head as I was sure mine did to him.
This was it.
Ilyan exhaled into the silence, his hand running over my back and pressing me into him, his lips pressing against mine in one hard, desperate line. Pressure and desire ran through me with that kiss, his need for me growing as I pressed myself into him.
I felt all his love in that instant, all his worry and sadness. I felt every promise and every vow. I felt it all in one tick of a clock before it was gone from me. His golden eyes devoured me as his fingers trailed over my jaw, lighting me on fire. He swallowed my soul with that look before he turned from me, his back straight as he towered before me with the long ribbon of gold hanging down his back and to the floor. His chest rose and fell as he stood. Once, twice he breathed, and then he opened the door and led us into the dimly-lit room.
I made my way into the room, the door shutting behind me with a loud snap that made my nerves jump.
The room was full of desperate whispers and the scraping of forks as the few who had to eat scarfed down the last of the food Ilyan had brought a few days before. Everyone was seated together at one of the large tables on the other side of the room. While Thom and Wyn had mostly cleared their plates, Ryland just sat between them with a plate of untouched food before him, rocking back and forth as Sain stood over him. The majority of the mumbles I heard came from Ryland’s lips.
Ilyan took one look at what was happening and rushed toward them, his intent to block Ryland
’s memories echoing back through his thoughts.
Is he all right? I asked, unable to take my eyes off my friend. The clarity of my mind that Ilyan’s magic had given me took away the monster that Cail had created for a moment. Right then, I only saw my friend, and my heart pulsed in worry. I reached toward the diamond that hung around my neck, knowing I needed to do something.
I was one step away from moving toward Ryland when he looked up at me.
My heart turned into a dark, painful fist at the look in his black eyes, at the hatred and pain that poured through him. In that one look, the veil of clarity vanished, leaving me face to face with the monster that still terrified me. I froze in place, my fingers still pressing the cold stone into my chest, unable to look away. Unable to move away from the raw hatred that stared back at me.
My voice curled and moaned as I forced my eyes down to the floor, the strange emotion leaving just as Ilyan’s words flitted into my mind.
His soul is destroyed, my love. I will help him. I promise you.
I nodded once at his words, even though I knew he couldn’t see me, and turned from them, needing to get away. Dramin sat at the table behind me, his hands wrapped around a large, earthen mug, another one at his side. He smiled as I caught sight of him, his head inclining toward the space next to him and to the mug I could only assume was for me.
“You always forget,” he said as I slid into the chair beside him, “so I came prepared.”
“Thank you.” I was unable to stop the smile that lit up my face, but it wasn’t for the mug. No matter how much my stomach turned in need of it, my smile was at seeing him, sitting on his own beside me.
“You’re okay.” It was a statement, not a question, my awed voice making me sound a little bit more like an amazed child than I had meant it to.
“Thanks to you, child,” Dramin said with his usual chipper tone as he lifted his cup to me, his eyes twinkling in a wink.
I wanted to smile at how familiar he was. I wanted to laugh and drink the Black Water, but I couldn’t, so I sat still, my smile fading somewhat as I looked into him. The question I knew I needed to ask felt like lead on my tongue.
Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4) Page 26
