Scorched Treachery (Imdalind #3)

by Rebecca Ethington

  “Be with a prince but not be branded as a princess, of course it upsets me.” I glanced at him through the mirror before continuing my morning preparations. “Give me a name, Thom, let me take a life. That is what I am good for, what I thrive at, not this nonsense.”

  “Perhaps he wants you to have a challenge.” Thom moved closer to me, the strength in his voice not leaving that time.

  “Hmmm… Then let me kill his first born.” I smiled, pleased when a bloodthirsty light flickered in Thom’s eyes.

  “Ilyan’s mine.” He grinned and I couldn’t help but return the smile. Everyone wanted to kill Ilyan, but no one could get close enough to even attempt it.

  “Why me, Thom?”

  “You are the most powerful of the Trpaslíks, the only one who still possess the fire magic…”

  “And he wants his blood blended with that strength?”

  Centuries ago, the fire magic that the Trpaslíks had been born with began to disappear. It wasn’t until my birth, over a hundred years ago, that the fire magic had returned. But it was only me. It never moved beyond that, making my blood, my magic, a highly sought after commodity and one that Edmund greatly desired.

  Thom nodded in answer to my question, the hat in his hand finally stopping its incessant spinning. I smirked and turned toward him, leaning against my dressing table.

  “What of you, Thom? Does he want you to be stronger as well?” I stepped toward him, his eyes lowering as he looked me over.

  “I think it is his hope.”

  I could only smile, of course it wasn’t. If Edmund wanted Thom to be stronger, he would have insisted on the bonding. Then, at least, Thom would inherit my unique power should I die. No, Edmund wouldn’t do that. He wanted my power for himself. He had tried to punish me after I removed his finger in warning when he suggested I bond myself to him. It was then that he had placed me as one of his assassins rather than his bodyguard, but I rather enjoyed the post. Not to mention I was good at it, taking out a whole herd of useless Draks by myself had been much easier than I would have assumed. No, he wouldn’t be so foolish as to give that power to one of his children. This forced pregnancy, however, was a different story.

  It only took him seventy years to figure out a new punishment for my treachery. It was almost enough to make me regret burning off his finger in the first place.

  I wondered how difficult assassinations would be with a bulging belly. If this were Edmund’s new punishment, then I would gladly shove it in his face.

  When it was all said and done, I had expected to hand the child over to Thom and walk away back to my blood soaked career path. What I hadn’t expected was the reaction I had at holding a small wriggling infant in my arms. One look at the dark eyes of the beautiful baby girl and I was changed.

  Rosaline.

  Of course, she was cursed from the beginning. Her eye color was not the royal blue that Edmund demanded. He had killed so many of his children when they were born without the bright blue of royalty that a grandchild wouldn’t make him bat an eyelid. I knew at once that she would be destined for the same fate if I didn’t do something.

  Fury would not be a word I would use to match Edmund’s anger at his failed attempt at biology. It was much worse.

  I was the one who would be punished. While Thom was left to raise our precious daughter, I was sent out on assassination missions, each one more difficult than the last. I continued to track the last of Draks with the forced sight of Sain. I tracked and murdered all of Ilyan’s extended family, and even the family of his precious, clunk-headed bodyguard, all in an attempt to flush him out.

  But through all the blood on my hands, it was the moments with my little blonde-headed girl that meant the most to me.

  “Mama!” I turned at Rosaline’s voice. Her rosy cheeks, her dark eyes, everything about her seemed to glow as she ran toward us, her hair flowing in the wind. “Mama! Will you bind these flowers in my hair?”

  “Of course, baby, why don’t you go pick some more?” Rosy smiled at me and danced back into the meadow, her hair flying behind her like ribbons of silk.

  “She’s like you.” I turned at Thom’s voice, his smile wide as he winked at me before turning back to our beautiful dancer.

  “Are you training her in hand to hand combat while I am gone, Thom?” I asked, waving to my eager child as she plucked dozens of long stemmed daisies.

  “Oh yes, choke holds are her favorite.” We both laughed, but it was strained, the truth of his words held a dark edge. “What I meant to say is that she does what she wants. She doesn’t care what people think of her.”

  “Well, that is like me.”

  “Incredibly.” Thom smiled at me before following after Rosy, scooping her up, and swinging her through the warm summer air.

  I had never had a friend before. Thom was my first. He taught me to care for my child. He taught me to laugh. He taught me to enjoy life. I had been raised to kill, raised to hunt people. It was all I knew, but Thom changed that. He turned me from a weapon into a person.

  With him, I spent sunrises in meadows, evenings playing cards, days at pubs, and nights at gypsy parties. He showed me the world in a different light. I was amazed that so much life could be inside of someone.

  I watched him kill men with my own eyes, but he was able to turn around and find something to smile about. I had never been able to do that before. I had always just dwelled in my cynical life, relishing it.

  Part of me wished that Edmund had never changed that by bringing Thom into my life.

  Our child had been born without the royal eyes and, what was worse, without my unique ability for fire magic, Edmund’s great experiment was useless to him. Useless things were disposable. Thom had tried to prove that she wasn’t useless, that she was powerful, but Edmund never saw it. So, we made plans to escape, to take our child and run.

  It would have worked if Edmund had not caught wind of our plan. As punishment, our child was tortured in front of us. My own father gladly took part in the hideous act.

  I couldn’t get her screams out of my head. Edmund had finally found a punishment that suited me; he had found a way to make me pay. He had done more than punish us, however; he had lost our loyalty. If only he would have guessed what we were truly capable of, perhaps he would have rethought his actions.

  Thom left. I would have gone with him if it weren’t for Cail’s constant supervision. He never left me alone; his worry over me was paramount. He held me as I mourned the loss of the one beautiful thing, the one person, I loved.

  I thought I would never recover, until Ilyan found me.

  He stood before me, his face screwed up in a strangely alluring smirk. His sandy hair sheared short against his head. He balanced his weight on an ornate walking stick, looking like he had just been caught taking a stroll on his enemies land.

  I was one touch away from murder, my hand posed above the trunk of the tree, ready to send a million shards of wood into his skin. But I didn’t, all because of that stupid hat. The hat he held in his hands, Thom’s hat. He held it gently in his fingers, offering it to me.

  “Thom asked me to give this to you,” he said quietly in Czech. I looked around the forest that surrounded Edmund’s estate, wondering how he had gotten in here. A large shape loomed behind him, probably that hulking bodyguard of his attempting to hide behind a tree.

  “Thom?” I asked, the fabric of the cap soft in my fingers as I took it from him.

  “Yes, he and Sain are in my care. I came to offer the same asylum to you.” I clenched the hat in my fist, the feather turning to ash as my magic flared. I wanted to say yes. Oh, how I wanted to leave right then, leave the giggles that haunted my dreams and the perfectly laundered children’s gown that still hung in my closet. But I couldn’t. There was one thing I couldn’t leave.

  “I can’t,” I sighed, my own words stinging my throat.

  “You want revenge.” My head shot up, my heart thumping at his words. I wanted to ask how he knew, but I c
ould see that he shared the same aspiration.

  “Yes.” My voice was a wispy pant of desire; it dripped off my tongue and into the air in a heady need.

  “Then work for me.” He smiled and moved the walking stick in front of him, where he leaned on it like the village boys would against a fence.

  “Work for you?”

  “Yes, I have something you want, after all.” He smiled and leaned forward, making me fight the urge to slap him. His eyes were so much like Thom’s. Thom, who had left me behind.

  I laughed lightly, using the tinkling sound of my voice to draw him in. “What could you possibly have that I would want?”

  He smirked, but it was different from the smirk that most men gave me. It wasn’t a smirk of desire, the light in his eyes only showed strength.

  “I can offer you a way to betray the man who betrayed you.”

  He kept his eyes on me, his fingers clenching and unclenching on that walking stick of his. I arched my eyebrow, my hand dropping just enough that my threat was lessened but not enough that the danger was gone.

  But then again, this was Ilyan; my threat to him may have never been present. I had watched him rip the arms off a man and wipe the brain of another only a decade before, all while still tied to a tree. There was a reason no one had done away with him yet.

  There was also a reason my heart was thudding in my chest.

  “What do you have inside that pretty head of yours, Ilyan?” I trilled, bringing my hands to the hips of the scandalous red peasant dress I had chosen to wear that day. “What would you have me do?”

  He hesitated, his breathing level as he studied me. Part of me wondered if he was scared of me as well. The sheer tension of the situation made me smile. I popped my hip and raised my eyebrows at him before stepping forward. Ilyan stayed still, his hand still resting on the long staff in his hands.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I don’t want your power, Wynifred.”

  “You don’t?” I laughed. I found that hard to believe. “What of your silent companion? Would you have him take my power, to better protect you?”

  I saw the hulking mass stiffen behind the tree. At least my words seemed to be affecting someone.

  “Talon does what I bid him, Wynifred. If it wasn’t for that, he would be driving you through.”

  A wicked smile spread across my lips at his words, ah yes, Talon. So it wasn’t my power, or even the fact that I was a woman that was affecting him, it was the murder of his younger sister not more than five years ago. Probably best not to mention how she moaned for him before I snapped her neck.

  “So that’s a no then?” Finally Ilyan smiled, his teeth flashing briefly before hiding themselves behind his lips.

  “That’s a no.” Ilyan shifted his weight, his walking stick moving to rest against his hip, his long boots shifting as they crunched the pine needles of the forest floor.

  “So if you don’t want me for my magic, then what do you want me for?”

  “Information.”

  “You wish me to spy?” I was flabbergasted. Yes, I wanted to make Edmund and my father pay for what they had done, but he was not only asking me to pass on information, he was asking me to put my own life in danger.

  “Oh, it is not simply a request for a spy, Wynifred. You are my father’s top assassin. You kill anyone who puts a toe out of line in my father’s sights. Good or bad, you kill them all. And you do it well.”

  “I am good at it for a reason, Ilyan.” I smiled, taking his compliment to heart. “It’s not just death. Anyone can kill. Anyone can remove the beating heart of a magical being.” I lowered my voice alluringly as I moved closer to him, wanting to test the boundaries of Ilyan’s bargain. I was pleased when his jaw tightened uncomfortably. “No matter how much I enjoy it,” I continued, “it’s more about finding information, and I can do that above all others.”

  “Then find information for me.” He lifted his chest toward me, his eyes flashing dangerously at his words, but I only smiled.

  I liked this game of cat and mouse; but what I liked more was the very real possibility of destroying the carefully placed web that Edmund had created. My adrenaline surged at the very thought. I would make him pay.

  “What type of information?” I asked coyly. As much as I liked the thought, I still needed to play my cards right to make this arrangement benefit me.

  “His plans, his weakness, what he knows about the sight,” my head snapped to his, my eyes narrowing, but he only smiled. “The name of your next target and every one following.”

  I stopped my pacing, my head slowly turning toward Ilyan. All of that was doable; I could tell him most of the information now. But the name of my target? Ilyan wasn’t requesting that so he could do the job for me, he was requesting it so he could save their life.

  My job didn’t entail just destruction; Edmund required proof of the job’s completion. He wanted the still beating heart of the victim. Edmund wanted their magic. If I were to turn the names over to Ilyan, then I would have no way of handing the hearts over to him. I would have no way to prove the job had been done.

  “What would you have me tell my master, Ilyan, if I suddenly stopped bringing him the hearts of his enemies?” I asked as I paced in front of him, careful not to let my eyes leave his. We may be in the beginnings of a bargain, but I did not trust him, not yet.

  “You will think of something,” he smiled, and I couldn’t help but return it. He was right, I would. I had already begun to think of possible ways to disguise mortal hearts as those of magical beings.

  “Besides, he is not your Master anymore.”

  “And you are?” My voice snapped as I spun to face him, the fabric of my skirt dragging through pine needles.

  “I am no one’s Master.” His voice was hard. Odd, he almost seemed offended by my comment.

  “I think your muscle would disagree with that.” The shadow shifted at my words, and I found myself drawn to it. Perhaps it was because Ilyan wasn’t responding to any of my advances, and I needed someone to confirm that my techniques were still usable.

  “He is free to come and go whenever he pleases.”

  “Then maybe I will steal him from you,” I smiled, but Ilyan’s face only hardened.

  “Only if you wish to make acquaintance with his sword,” he said through gritted teeth. I could tell right then that he would never trust me, even if he consented to what I was about to ask of him.

  I stood still as our eyes locked, each one weighing the other. He was wondering if he could actually trust me, and I was wondering why he hadn’t done away with me already. I had killed more than half of his army with my own hands, and yet, he let me live. I didn’t know if it was pity or desperation that had brought him here, but part of me wished he would plunge me through already.

  “Information?” I asked when the silence had become too much.

  “Yes.” He swung his walking stick once, slamming it into the ground as if to accentuate his words. I didn’t even flinch.

  “And not my magic.”

  “No.”

  I shouldn’t have felt stung, but I did. It was not because all of my physical advances had yet to be effective, but because everyone wanted use of the last of the fire magic.

  Everyone.

  They all wanted my power and the upper hand it would give them, but the leader of the Skȓíteks stood in front of me saying he wanted none of it. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little bit suspicious.

  “Am I not appealing to you, Ilyan?” I popped my hip, testing him, watching him, needing to know for sure.

  “I’m taken.”

  “So it would seem,” I laughed, eyeing the shadow of the man who still stood guard behind him.

  Ilyan said nothing, he only stood, jaw tight, his weight balanced on the narrow stick in his hands. I stopped my movement, letting my hair fall down my back as I looked at him. So far, I liked this deal, but we still had my requirements to discuss.

&nbs
p; “I will do this for you, as long as you give me everything I ask.” Ilyan’s eyes widened briefly at my words, his shock melting as he settled in to listen to my requests, a small head nod prompting me to continue.

  “I will give you the information you need for as long as I can. I only ask one thing, after I am caught, you get me out alive. You give me the asylum you promised and wipe my memory.”

  His shoulders tensed at my last request, the muscles moving further toward his ears before relaxing down again. He didn’t like that last part, not that I blamed him.

  “You ask me to put a lock on your mind?”

  “Yes, I don’t want to remember anything. I don’t want to remember Thom, my child, or the thousands of drops of blood that litter my hands.”

  I held my palm out to him as if proving my sins, but his eyes didn’t leave mine.

  “I don’t erase memories, Wynifred. That is a form of torture only my father uses.”

  “You can and you will if you want me to do this for you.” I smiled, knowing I had caught him. “It is not a matter of power, Ilyan. I know you can do it.”

  “I can also bury you alive ten feet underground with one thought, but I don’t.” He smiled. “Or maybe I will.”

  I smiled back, but I wasn’t going to relent on this. It was the one piece that I really wanted. I would gladly do all he asked for nothing, but then I would walk away with only my haunted memories for company. It was not a life I wish to lead. I would rather meet my death at my father’s hands. But then I would gain nothing from this arrangement. I did nothing for free.

  Even Edmund offered me his own form of payment.

  “My memory for your information.”

  He exhaled, his muscular chest heaving as he contemplated my request.

  “What would you do, Wynifred, once your memory is gone?”

  “I’m not sure. Walk the world, discover a new land, perhaps I will join a nunnery.”

  The laugh that filtered out of his lips startled me, the humor heavy in the air. I didn’t see the joke.

  “You are not the type to join a nunnery.”