Scorched Treachery (Imdalind #3)

by Rebecca Ethington

  Everyone waited for the hold Cail had on Ryland’s mind to dissipate, the silence dragging on and on. I couldn’t look away from Ryland, from the calm way he sat until the first whimper escaped his lips, his hands already moving to claw through the air around his head.

  “Joclyn,” he moaned, the grip of his fingers increasing as he began to rock back and forth, his mumbling increasing.

  “This is your weapon?” Ovailia asked. “A weeping child?”

  “No, Ovailia, it’s what the weeping child does that is the weapon.” Edmund smiled and clapped Cail on the shoulder, his action making him look like a proud father. “Go on, Cail.”

  “Ryland,” Cail taunted, “Ovailia’s here. She saw Joclyn.”

  Ryland looked up, his whimpers turning to a howl as he stood and rammed at the cage, his voice opening up into a wail that only increased as Cail went on. I pulled against my chains, wishing there was a way to move away. My body screamed as I tried, and eventually I had to give up. I shouldn’t still be scared of him, but I didn’t know what Cail had planned for his little show and tell, and that worried me.

  “Joclyn?” Her name was a groan on Ryland’s lips, his hands gripping the bars in front of him so tightly that his knuckles had turned bright white.

  “Yes, Ryland,” Cail continued, “they had a nice dinner together, and do you know who else was there?” he asked, turning to Ovailia who smiled broadly and stepped up to the bars.

  “Ilyan was there,” she said simply. Ryland’s grip tightened as he yelled, slamming his head into the bars over and over again.

  “Yes, Ilyan was there, Ryland,” Cail continued, raising his voice enough to be heard above Ryland’s yells. “He was holding her hand and touching her face.”

  Cail stopped as Ryland’s howls opened up, his body pulling against his chains repeatedly as he tried to get through the bars to them.

  Cail smiled as Ovailia squealed with joy, her hand hitting the bars loudly in an effort to excite Ryland, his howls getting louder.

  “He kissed her hand, Ryland,” Ovailia said, her icy voice eager to jump in on what she obviously viewed to be a wonderful game. “He traced her lips with his finger, he touched her neck…”

  “I’m gonna kill him!” Ryland howled, his voice rising with every beat of Ovailia’s hand against the bars.

  Edmund stepped forward to view his son better, his eyes full of pride as he watched his own flesh and blood writhe with torment and agony.

  “Perfect,” he sighed. “I never thought I would say this about him, but he is perfect. If he cannot fight beside me, then I will use him as a weapon. With the power he has, and his lust for Joclyn, he is the perfect weapon.”

  Edmund reached through the cage as Ryland continued to fight to get at them. His hand ran along his son’s face, a wicked gleam shining in his bright blue eyes, a gleam I hadn’t seen in over a hundred years.

  “Are you going to go kill your brother, son?” he asked. I froze, my eyes flashing to Sain who looked just as shocked as I felt.

  “I’m gonna kill him!” he howled, his head knocking against the bars. “Kill…kill…kill…”

  “And what of Joclyn?” Edmund asked, his hand leaving his son’s face to curl around the chain that attached to his wrist. “Are you going to make her pay? Pay for hurting you?”

  “Hurt her!” Ryland howled, his fingers clenching and unclenching in a halo around his head. “She’s hurt me… hurt…she’s gonna hurt…”

  Ryland hit his head repeatedly in his agony, and the group in front of him laughed.

  I couldn’t watch anymore, I couldn’t. I couldn’t watch the beautiful boy who had been destroyed by his own family and turned into a weapon against the only person he ever loved, the only person who had ever loved him back.

  I tried to drown out the sounds of his suffering, the sounds of his torment, but they kept coming. Ovailia’s squeals of joy, Edmund’s chuckles of pride, and Cail’s constant taunts broke through the general cacophony.

  I wished I could cry. I wished I had enough water in me to do so. Ryland needed someone to mourn over what he had lost, what he could never get back. I wished I could do that for him; there weren’t many left who would.

  “Let’s finish this,” Edmund suddenly announced. I heard two iron-barred doors open simultaneously, the grind of the metal closely followed by the clatter of chains.

  “Are you ready to go kill your mate, son?” Edmund asked, the chains rattling as Ryland was led writhing and screaming, out of the prison.

  “Kill!” Ryland screamed. “She…she has to pay!”

  “Come on, Sain,” Ovailia spat, her voice so full of hate I could taste it on my own tongue. “I want to show you what I should have done to you in the first place.”

  “I hold no hatred for you in my heart, Ovi,” Sain said.

  “Don’t call me that,” Ovailia snapped as she led Sain out of his cell, his hands still shackled and chained.

  “I am happy to see your love life has improved,” Sain said, his voice light, as if he was talking to a long lost friend and not his former lover. “Cail is a much better match for you.”

  “Anyone is better for me then you were.” Ovailia turned on him, her finger sparking as she shoved one long nailed pointer in his face. I would have expected Sain to flinch away, but he stood still, his eyes focused on her and not the warning that flared only millimeters from his face.

  “I quite agree; Angela Despain was a remarkable woman.”

  Ovailia’s finger sparked; her face hardening as she jerked on his chains. His torso jolted down until her finger pressed against the skin between his eyes.

  “Leave my love life alone, Sain.”

  “Then leave my daughter alone,” he replied. Ovailia released her hold on Sain. I would have assumed the strength in Sain’s voice to startle her, but I knew better.

  “Haven’t you been listening?” she asked, moving her face closer to him. “Ryland is going to take care of her for us. Well, after he kills Ilyan anyway.”

  “We’ll see,” Sain whispered, his calm voice not missing a beat.

  Ovailia’s eyes widened for a just a moment before they softened. “You act like you actually control your sight, Sain.” Ovailia laughed at the idea and left the cell, dragging the old man behind her.

  “Oh,” Cail scoffed once the sound of Sain’s chains had ebbed away to nothing, “I almost forgot.”

  He laughed and threw something at me as the light began to fade. I stared at the loaf of bread he had tossed into my cell, unable to move toward it, my stomach rolling with need.

  “Bon appétit, Wynifred,” Cail spoke from the steps, his body already disappearing around the stairs. The shackles around my wrists opened, sending me tumbling down, and I landed on my chest right in front of the dinner-plate sized loaf of bread. The stale, mostly green surface crawled with maggots.

  Bon appétit, indeed. I reached toward the loaf, my weak fingers curling around what was sure to be the only food I would see for another week.

  Ilyan

  Chapter Ten

  I could hear her. Joclyn’s voice echoed within my head from the memory I had had since the first day I heard it, eight hundred years ago. The rise and fall of her tone, the way she said her r’s – it was an accent I wouldn’t hear for hundreds of years after that day.

  I had dwelled on her voice for centuries, allowed the memory of her to be my light in my darkest times, and hundreds of years later, I had basked in her voice when I heard it in my ears again. It came as no surprise that the first thing I could remember thinking about, that the first thing I had heard when the darkness came after the stutter had injured me, was her voice.

  Trapped in the blackness of my subconscious, my thoughts were only on her. I wondered if I had been able to get her away from Ryland alive, wondered if my foolish attempt at taking her with me through the stutter had worked.

  I had felt the warmth of someone healing me, but the touch was wrong. It wasn’t her, and that only w
orried me more.

  Until I heard her. Through the darkness that my body kept me in, I had heard her.

  I heard her beg for me to live, and I wanted to tell her I was right there, beside her. I wanted to hold her and let her know that I would never leave her.

  I had never been injured in this way. I had always been too strong to be hurt for long, and not being able to be there for her triggered my need, my determination, to leave the darkness. To protect her,

  I listened to her voice. I listened to her fears, knowing that soon I would be able to calm them.

  Every night since I had awoken, the memory of her words filled me. I heard her voice while I slept with her in my arms, and it calmed me, the way she had calmed me in Isola Santa two nights before – the way that no one had ever done. It was there I had felt her magic inside of me, mingling with mine. I had never felt that before, and the sensation was addicting. I wished I could keep that pleasant spark of her magic inside me forever.

  I was so used to hearing Joclyn’s voice in my dreams that when she woke me up, by a simple call of my name, I heard her and my eyes opened. She looked at me with a face that I had memorized, and I blinked, waiting for my mind to clue me in to whether this was a dream or reality. It felt like a dream. Every morning, when I woke with her in my arms after so many years of waiting, it all felt like a dream.

  I could feel the warmth of our body heat trapped against our skin and the cold of the cave against my cheek. I could feel her hand against my bare chest, her warm breath flowing over my skin. I could have died right there from the joy I felt.

  “Jos,” I sighed, happy at being comfortable enough to say her name so familiarly.

  She smiled at me, but the smile was sad, the pain behind her eyes stronger than I remembered it being. Something was bothering her: a decision, a choice. I couldn’t tell what. I had missed something. My muscles tensed in alarm. I should have never let her wait so long between Tȍuhas.

  I pushed my magic through her, letting the warmth slow her heart beat. She looked at me with those sad eyes before the fear began to fade, a comfort taking over, her smile lighting her face.

  I watched as the calm washed through her before I registered the light in the cave. It was morning. She had slept all night. My whole body felt light at the thought. Finally, she had gotten some rest. She needed it so very badly after all she had been forced to endure.

  I had tried to give her that rest at the hotel last night, but the nightmares still found her. I grabbed her hand in surprise and held it against my chest, her skin warm.

  “No nightmares?” I was hopeful. How could I not be? I had held her for months as the nightmares had plagued her, tried everything to help her, and tried everything again when nothing had worked.

  “I am so glad,” I whispered at the shake of her head, pulling her into me and wrapping my arms around her. The small movement must have triggered a million aches inside of her because I felt her back seize as she gasped, and my heart clunked heavily in my chest in worry.

  I did the same thing I had done for months. I plunged my magic into her as I healed her. I wrapped her spine in energy as I repaired the tiny fractures that lined her bones and warmed her spleen as I jumpstarted it.

  I had known it was foolish yesterday to let her wait so long, but I also knew why she was scared. I just hoped Ovailia could bring Ryland back soon. Only his touch could make her whole again. I needed her whole. I couldn’t bear to see her in pain, even if his return would take her away from me.

  For now, I would keep her safe and protect her until the end.

  “I’m scared, Ilyan.” Her voice was so soft, so fearful. It triggered that deep protection instinct that was inside me, and I fought the need to hold her closer against me.

  She spoke of the Tȍuha as if it was a torture chamber, and to her, I am sure it was. It was now a necessity for her health and survival, and yet, it was always so full of pain and sadness. Not for the first time, I worried that I had made the wrong choice, wondered if I should have prompted her to break the bond. I wished I could take the pain away, give her health and healing, but it was not my place.

  I leaned forward and pressed my lips against the skin of her forehead, her warmth shooting through me like lightning. I pulled away, much sooner than my heart begged me to. I had to remind myself that she was not mine for my heart to claim. As much as my heart called for her and my magic longed for her, she was not mine. Not yet.

  She belonged to my brother. I was only serving as her safe harbor until Ryland was able to return to her.

  “I will be here the entire time, Joclyn,” I whispered to her, my soul lost to the doubt and fear that flashed through her silver eyes. “Be quick.”

  Something deep inside of me begged me not to let her go. I didn’t want to see the pain on her face when she returned. After the last time, when she woke up bleeding, I had become worried as to what could actually happen within these shared consciousnesses her and my brother shared. A Tȍuha was meant to be a place of intimacy and a joining of body and mind, but Joclyn had never been able to experience them the way they were meant. From the beginning, she had been forced into a place of loneliness.

  I watched as she pulled the beautiful necklace my brother had given her from underneath her shirt, the jewel glimmering as she plunged her magic into it.

  I could feel the power emanating from the immaculate stone, the strength of Ryland’s magic. The jewel sparkled as his heart stayed with her, his magic surging through her as he protected her.

  It was dark magic, but dark magic used for something good, and it had turned into something beautiful.

  He had given her a piece of his heart, enclosed inside the shimmering surface of a diamond.

  I had never told her what it really was. I wasn’t sure she was ready to know the truth behind it.

  She didn’t look at me as she pushed herself into my chest again, my arms wrapping around her instinctively. Her body was stiff against mine before she relaxed, her mind leaving to connect with that of her mate.

  I ran my hand over her hair, the thick braid I had placed in it only the day before all ruffled and frizzy from a fitful sleep. Neklidný? No, that couldn’t be. Joclyn had said that she had had no nightmares and the few nights without them, she had always slept so still, so soundlessly. But her hair was far more mussed than I had seen lately.

  I didn’t want to think that she might have lied to me; that she was hiding her pain. I wanted her to trust me enough to tell me everything.

  I reached up to wind a thick strand that had come undone back into place, and her body shuddered against mine. The small movement was almost that of a sob. My chest froze at the thought of her crying again.

  “Jos?” I pulled her limp body away from me, but her eyes were still closed, and she remained in the Tȍuha. I had almost pulled her back into me, when she shook again, this movement heavier. Her head jumped and lolled a bit before coming to rest on my arm.

  She had never moved like this during a Tȍuha. It was always the nightmares that racked through her body and brought the seizures and agonizing movements. Tȍuhas were gentle. I had seen so many of my kind enter them through my life span. The gentle way their bodies lay, the glowing ethereal beauty that would overtake them as they visited such a pure eternal place.

  Joclyn twitched again, and I brought her against me, my hands fanning against her back as her heartbeat fluttered inside her chest. It wasn’t an excited flutter of pleasure; it was the heavy, racking thumps of fear, of danger.

  “Jos?” My back stiffened when she didn’t react, my hands moving to clench her to me, my muscles tensing against her.

  Someone was hurting her. I could already feel my unbidden anger pulsing through me, the primitive need to protect her taking over my better judgment. She had only been gone a matter of minutes, but still, it was much longer then she had visited recently.

  Now she was scared and trapped inside the Tȍuha, with a heartbeat of a drum. She was in danger.


  Her body shook again, her chest heaving as she gasped and coughed into the skin of my chest. Warmth spread over me as her breath spread away from her over my skin, leaving behind a wetness that stuck against my chest. I froze as I smelled it, the earthy scent of blood and the smell of all my fears.

  I pulled her away to reveal a bright red patch of her blood on my chest. Her mouth was covered with it. It continued to drizzle from her gaping mouth, and onto the sheet of the bed we lay in.

  “Ne,” I gasped.

  I stared at the blood that trickled down the side of her mouth, the bright red vivid against her pale skin. My fear flowed into my bloodstream, igniting my fury, my anger.

  Someone was hurting her. Someone was going to pay.

  My magic pulsed once through her, in search of the connecting thread of the Tȍuha, ready to get her out of there. But I felt nothing before she began to convulse.

  Her body shook violently next to me, her voice moaning and gasping as if she was being strangled. Her rough movements grew as I watched, my hands reaching out to steady her, comfort her, but finding no footing. The harder my hands attempted to grab her, the more she writhed, sending my hands away from her.

  “Joclyn!” My voice broke as I yelled at her in a foolish attempt to wake her up.

  Her body continued to writhe and seize, the moans turning into agonizing yells. My magic pulsed through to the Štít in desperation, trying to calm her, but her barrier pushed right up against it, denying me access.

  I pushed with my full strength, knowing she could hold the power if the barrier broke, but nothing budged. There was no room to enter. She had somehow managed to lock me out in her most desperate time of need. The realization only fueled my alarm. It rocked through me in angry waves that grew the more they moved. My jaw locked in fear, my magic bubbling high above the power I normally held in reserve.

  I moved myself over her, desperate to find a way to help her, when her movements threw me from the bunk, her magic pulsing into me and sending me skidding across the cold floor of the cave.