Scorched Treachery (Imdalind #3)

by Rebecca Ethington

  “I just entrusted you with our only secret, Ilyan. You better keep it that way.” Dramin smiled at me, but it was sad, his eyes were shaded by something... Regret? I couldn’t see Dramin ever regretting anything, but then, he had just released a secret the Drak had seen fit to keep from everyone since the beginning of time.

  “So what does that mean for me?” I asked, my eyes narrowing at him. Dramin only laughed at me, his usual joyful timber coming back into his voice.

  “You have had Black Water flowing through your veins for eight hundred years and now you worry? Nebojte se,” he said as he patted my hand in a grandfatherly way, an action that did not match his appearance. “You will be fine. All I said was that I did not know what would happen. If there was a threat of an additional head sprouting on your shoulders, we would have never consented to give you, or anyone else, access to the sight.”

  He laughed and I felt everything relax inside of me. He was right. I had feared the possibility of a greater ability. I did not need more power. I already feared the strength of the magic that flowed through my veins.

  “Well,” Dramin began before draining the last of his mug, “I’ll go get Joclyn ready, come to her after you finish with Thom.”

  “Thom?” I questioned, not understanding.

  Dramin nodded once before standing, the sound of Thom’s yells reaching my ears as he did so.

  “Ilyan!” The excited yell of Thom’s voice echoed around the stone hallways before reaching the kitchen.

  “I guess I’ll go see what he wants, shall I?” I laughed alongside Dramin as we both left the kitchen, Dramin leaving to go toward my suite, where Joclyn slept, and I moved toward Thom’s frantic yells.

  Thom’s voice ricocheted around the stone hallways. To anyone else, the bounce of his voice would have made it impossible to know where he was, but I could sense his magic. His deep earth energy was strong with excitement as he moved closer to me, the excitement mixing with panic the closer he got.

  I had almost reached him when his odd mix of emotions hit me hard, setting me on high alert, and I moved faster. Curiosity and panic mingled inside of me with each step.

  Thom turned the corner at a dead heat, his feet sliding as he caught sight of me. His face was wide and alert in excitement, but I could hear the rapid rate of his breath in my ears, the pace too quick to be purely excited. My curiosity left as fear took its place, a million possibilities leapt to mind, but deep down I knew – they were attacking. My heart pulsed once in desperation, begging me to simply take Joclyn and fly away – to save her. The thought was only a breeze from a bird’s wing before it was gone, before inheritance and responsibility took its place.

  We said nothing to each other; I just picked up my pace, and followed him as he turned back the way he had come. His short legs moved fast as he ran, his magic pulsing through him as he quickened his pace. It wasn’t until he turned toward the large garden on the west side of the chapel that the fear in me shifted. The camps were arranged on the north side. Had we missed something? Something new, bigger?

  Everything thumped in time with my footsteps, my heart beating in my ears and my breath moving in time with my steps. Without thinking about it, I moved my magic to check on Joclyn, shielding her as much as I dared.

  We turned one more corner before Thom stopped, my feet halting right behind him before I collided with him.

  This was not what I had expected, it was worse.

  Ovailia stood in the middle of the hall we ran through, her long blonde hair down to her waist and smug smile in place, as if she expected me to praise her for a job well done. But, it wasn’t a job well done. It was a nightmare.

  Ryland stood right next to her. Stood. His eyes were bright blue. His hair was damp with sweat, making the dark curls he got from our father longer than usual. He looked at me with understanding, with knowledge, and with eager anticipation. He was awake, and he remembered me.

  “Where is Joclyn?” Ryland’s voice was eager, panicked. I could feel his need and longing as it settled deeply into his voice.

  I would have gladly taken him to her right then, except that his alertness was a signal to something much worse. Joclyn was still asleep, trapped in a Tȍuha that she supposedly shared with Ryland.

  “You’re awake.” I couldn’t help the panic that edged into my voice. As much as I needed to be the royal leader right then, I just couldn’t. I saw Ovailia’s brow furrow, but she said nothing.

  “Yeah.” He took a step toward me, ready to plead his case, ready to see her.

  “But, the Tȍuha?”

  “Dad broke our bond...last week... I...” Ryland’s voice trailed off as my soul turned to ice.

  I said nothing as I turned and ran down the hall. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to explain. How could I when I had no idea what was wrong? I heard footsteps behind me, knowing they would follow, knowing I could not stop them, but I couldn’t waste time trying. I barely heard them; I could only hear my panicked breathing. I could only feel my heart clunk against the frail bones in my chest. Everything was falling apart inside of me.

  I passed the ancient architecture, passed the ornate window I helped set, I passed it all without seeing. I ran without knowing. I followed the beat of my heart, the pull of my soul. My magic had already gone to her – it filled her completely, checking for something I might have missed. She couldn’t just be a shell, she couldn’t.

  I slammed the door into my suite open, not bothering to close it, not bothering to say anything before moving into the small side room. Joclyn’s body was still and small on the large couch. She didn’t move, didn’t turn. Could she not hear my heart beat for her? Could she not feel my terror?

  When I entered, the room was empty accept for Joclyn. Dramin had obviously gone for something, leaving the large mug of Black Water on the table beside her. I grabbed it without thinking, my fear and worry taking over my better judgment.

  “Mi lasko!” My voice was loud. The panic in me scared me. I had never felt this afraid. Hearing my panic so deep in my own ears shook me.

  I moved to sit over her, my legs on either side as I lifted her head, settling her into the couch in a more comfortable way. My hand moved to her face, my finger tracing her lips for only a moment before I opened her jaw, her mouth sagging. I placed my fingers just inside, cupping my hand before her mouth, like a bowl, a bowl for poison. I tilted the mug, focusing on the determination in my soul and the steady beat of her heart before I poured the water into my hand, the slope of my skin forming a ramp into her mouth.

  The sound of my pain exited my body with a howl of agony and misery. My voice hit stone and glass before bouncing back to me, but I barely heard. The sound of my agony that now shot through my veins only grew before the water had gone from the mug, leaving her face wet and dripping. I yelled as I willed the pain to die down, the burn only growing. I held my hand up in fear, my mouth opening at the sight of the seeping blister that now covered the palm of my hand, my voice continuing to howl at the agony that was threatening to incapacitate me.

  This pain was worse than the brands on my chest, worse than the accidental drip on my arm. This was torture. I howled as I collapsed onto her, my body tensing as it attempted to manage the pain that I was now racked with. I held her to me as every muscle seized, as my throat burned with the howls that escaped from me.

  The water tugged at me, pulling something out of me and took it into her. The heavy strand of magic moved the pain through me and centered it over the Štít, over our connection. The burn grew as the water pulled at me, changed me. I could feel her more acutely than I had ever done before, her heartbeat bounced in my ears, her breathing moved over my chest. I felt her inside of me as well as alongside me, my mind aware of her as if I was her. The connection pulled stronger and stronger, unlike anything I had ever felt before or anything I had ever heard of. I focused on it as it grew and encompassed me. The water that flowed through my veins connected with the water that now lived inside
of her. It was all I could focus on, her body, her soul, the thin thread of her consciousness that trailed far away, and next to that...the thin thread that connected her to the Tȍuha. I had found it.

  “Mi lasko! Snap out of it! Get out of there!” I could feel her, somewhere deep inside. I could still feel that thread, the clarity of it shining at me like a golden ribbon.

  Joclyn’s heartbeat increased inside of me, the sound of my voice increasing the tempo for only a moment before she relaxed again. At least, I hoped it was my voice she was reacting to. Please let her hear me. I said the words to myself, a silent prayer to a silent deity.

  “Joclyn! Come back to me!” My tears flowed unbidden as I looked at her still body and felt the slow ache when her heartbeat did not respond. “Joclyn!”

  I could feel the bridge that the water had created between us leaving, the strength of the connection moving away from me. I couldn’t stop my movement as I pressed my hands to her face, the angry burn on my hand pressing itself against the soft skin of her cheek.

  The strong pulse of her magic surged through the raw skin of my hand at the touch. It rocked through me and my spine straightened, the power rough and violent as it filled me.

  I could feel the warmth of her body, the silky texture of her skin, but more than that, I could feel her again. I could feel her inside of me. Somehow the water had bridged me to her, connected my body with hers.

  “Dramin!” I yelled his name, knowing he wouldn’t know what this was, or how to keep it. But he would have water, and perhaps the water could strengthen the connection again. The water had brought the clarity; I needed the water to keep the clarity strong. “Dramin! Bring the water!”

  Dramin ran into the room before I could even finish talking, his face calm for a moment before he saw me kneeling over Joclyn and the tears on my face. I could only imagine how I must have looked, how desperate I must have seemed, because I felt it inside me. I could feel the pain, the anguish, the desperation. I looked at him with all of my weaknesses on my face, no façade, just me. He looked at me for one minute before the realization hit him and his own panic took over his face.

  “What in land’s name is going on here?”

  “Ovailia has returned. It was just as Joclyn said… Ryland’s here.” I tried to keep the emotion out of my voice, tried to regain my composure, but it didn’t seem to be working. It didn’t want to take. “He’s awake.”

  “What do you mean he is awake?” I could hear the confusion on his voice, and it made sense. Joclyn was sleeping, so Ryland should be too.

  “Joclyn!” I yelled, “Ovailia brought him. He is fine. But the bond, Edmund broke it weeks ago.”

  My voice bounced around the room before I looked back at Dramin, hoping that he would understand me by the desperation in my eyes. He only stared at me, his heart breaking. I didn’t want to think about what that look could mean, what that pain was for.

  This could not be allowed to happen. It was not the end. I had seen my path, and my path was her. I had seen the end, seen my love for her and hers for me. I had seen everything. It was her. She was my everything. I would wait a thousand more years to experience those sights, but they would come to pass. They could not just be another of the zlomený. I wouldn’t allow it.

  “But, she is still sleeping… She’s been sleeping for two weeks…” My eyes looked away from Dramin; I couldn’t stand to try to explain something that I didn’t understand. “How can she be…”

  Dramin came to stand next to me, his hand moving to lay against Joclyn’s face. His touch was soft against her cheek as he filled her with his magic. My eyes moved to glare into him as I felt his magic surge, the power of it right up against mine. I had never felt Dramin’s magic so strongly. It wasn’t the same deep magic of the Drak I was used to feeling; this was bright and strong. It almost felt powerful.

  Dramin looked at me in wonder, the gleam in his eyes making it clear that he had found my new connection to Joclyn. He had known what the Black Water would do inside my veins after all. I turned my hand toward him, showing him the angry welt that covered my palm. My face cringed as I let the pain show through my eyes, my chest still locking the rest of my pain inside.

  Dramin’s eyes went wide as they stared at my hand in silence. With one nod, he pushed more of his magic into her, the flow wide and strong. The burn on my hand had obviously opened up something inside me. It was more than the connection with Joclyn; I could feel the hidden strength of a Drak now. Our magic was able to work together for one minute before the connection changed.

  Suddenly, I felt it inside of me, even though I knew it was inside of her. The repressive force of the heavy black mark that had hidden the thin strand of fine gold ribbon that her mind had followed to enter the Tȍuha.

  I found it.

  I found her.

  “It’s a Vymȁzat.”

  “What?” Dramin’s hand pulled away from Joclyn’s face, the mug in his other hand mug dropping to the floor in surprise. “How did you miss that? You tried everything…”

  “I didn’t miss it. It was hidden,” I said as I pushed my magic into her, feeling it move through her as it would in me. My awareness of her body swelled within me. I felt everything. I felt the thick ridge of the curse inside the hollow cavity of her mind. The curse had spread like spider webs over her skull, so thin and fine, it was no wonder I had missed it. Whatever Edmund had done to her, he had hidden it well. But not well enough.

  I kept pushing my magic into her, my body beginning to feel weak and heavy as my power smothered her. I pushed as I worked to reverse the Vymȁzat, to remove it from inside her.

  “Ilyan, you can’t possibly be saying what I think you are saying…” Dramin’s voice just washed over me, my mind focused on the mountain of work before me.

  I pushed into her, laying my magic over the curse repressively as I attacked it. I surged my magic violently through it until the thick strands of my father’s curse began to break loose, the bands loosening away from her spinal column. It was there, with the sensation of her within me, that I felt her mind coming back.

  Joclyn’s mind, her soul, was clicking back into place as the Vymȁzat loosened its grip on her. Her mind moved back into her, like a child playing with dominos – one piece falling after another as they moved into place. I could feel the heavy threads of her thoughts, the increased panic of her breathing, the elevated rate of her heart, and her hand against my shoulder.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I could feel her hand on my shoulder.

  I almost lost contact with her at the touch. It felt so real and yet she still lay unmoving below me. I could feel the touch of her skin against mine, the energy of her magic surging at the contact. It was her. My head spun toward the soft touch, my eyes widening at the broken disheveled girl that stood beside me.

  It was Joclyn, I could see it in the silver of her eyes and the angles of her face, but everything else was foreign. Her hair, once long and straight, was matted in long tangled masses. Bloodied bits of scalp peeked through the large bald patches where the hair had been pulled out. I scanned her body as my brain slowly began to register what I was seeing, as I began to understand the things that had happened to her. Her clothes were ripped and torn, the tattered fragments covered with dirt and blood as they hung from her emaciated body. Her skin was covered with bruises, cuts, and burns. I looked away from the horrific sight only to come back to the same beautiful face on the couch below me.

  I looked back to the battered girl. My soul felt like it was being ripped in two by seeing her there; the giant rent began in my toes and moved through me in an earthquake of regret and fear, ripping my heart into pieces.

  She looked at me with her silver eyes, the confidence I had watched her develop over the last few months so weak I could barely see it. Her power had been beaten out of her. As I watched her, I could see a shadow of that power return, the strength of her gaze growing as I stared into her, as I felt her memory click fully back into place.


  My eyes darted back and forth from the girl I sat over to the ghostly apparition in front of me, my heart unwilling to accept the horrors I was seeing. My eyes had only returned to hers for a moment before I felt the shadow girl’s hands hard against my chest, pushing me off the living girl’s body. I fell to the floor, just as the hands of both girls rose in preparation to attack.

  I yelled at the same time as Joclyn’s broken body, her mouth moving as she spoke to someone that my vision would not allow me to see. No sound escaped her lips, even though I knew she was speaking. Her strength seeped back into her eyes as she screamed at whoever had been attacking her, as once again, she prepared to fight back.

  There was barely a warning before Joclyn’s hands exploded with energy, the magic soaring into the physical realm from the hands of the girl who lay sleeping on the faded upholstery.

  My magic wrapped her in a heavy shield, her attack impacting with it, my soul acting on its own in response to her need. The attack disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving us in silence once again. I watched for only a minute, waiting to see if more was to come, watching as both girls dropped their hands. I was up in an instant, my heart fighting over which Joclyn to run to, yelling at me to find a way to bring the battered Joclyn home.

  I had only made it a few steps before her weak voice met my ears, the sweet sound sending my heart into a frantic strum.

  “Goodbye.”

  “No!” It was then I knew who I was running to, who needed me more. I ran to Joclyn’s ghostly body, wrapping my arms around her as I surged my magic into both of them through the Štít. The shadow of her body was so cold, so small, compared to what she really was. I could feel her, the same way I had when the sight was first given to me. I could feel her gritty skin, the grease on her hair. Somehow, she was right there in my arms.

  The Black Water had bridged the gap between us again, but this time I knew how to use that magic to bring her back. I could still feel the water burning through my veins, and hers, and even though I didn’t want to, I forced its movement through me, through the Štít, and right to my heart. I felt the water burn alongside my magic, Joclyn’s magic coming to the edge of the Štít as my power called to her. It was there that our magic mingled for the second time. The deep strength of it rocked through me with such an impact I was sure I would never be able to let her go again.