Burnt Devotion (22 page)

He strolled back to me with an even wider grin, the limp body of a tortured Vilỳ, flopping uselessly in his fist.

“Tell me what you have learned, Ovailia.” His voice was soft as he brought the Vilỳ up to eye height, the creature snarling and lashing about. Edmund looked at it like it was nothing more than a beloved pet, the twisted thing bringing more affection up in the man than any of his children.

My lip curled at the image, my disgust at what I was seeing tensing in my gut.

“You spent several days among them, yes? What did you see?”

His fingers moved over the forehead of the thing while my body swayed before I righted myself, my head snapping to attention as I met his gaze head on. His eyes were ice, the hatred and lack of warmth making me doubt if I had made the right decision, if I should have ever left Ilyan’s side in the first place.

Then the image of Sain in the abbey came back to me, the lie that my atrocious brother had fed for centuries hurting more than the poison that still moved through me. The poison Edmund had filled me with because of my bonding, because I already had Drak magic inside of me. Therefore, I should be able to take it.

Or so he had said.

I couldn’t stop the anger that twisted through me. I didn’t want to. The strength of the emotion was a cooling balm to the fire that still ate away at my bones.

“Ilyan has a burn on his palm from Black Water.” I spoke the words confidently, my chin rising in accomplishment as the hatred in my father’s eyes was replaced by surprise. “He did not have it when I arrived, but it was there when I was dismissed. I think that is how he brought Joclyn back through the Tȍuha.”

His hand was frozen on the head of the creature he held. The monstrous thing still lashed, even though Edmund’s focus was far away from where we stood in the ash-filled debris of Rioseco.

“So, he has filled his body with that poison, has he?”

I said nothing. I only waited as the earth continued to burn, the smell of soot and flame growing as his eyes focused far away.

He paced away from me in a movement that could have been perceived as calm, the gears in his mind turning at an almost audible level.

“Does he have sight?” he asked after a moment, his body whipping toward me as his eyes flashed with energy and need. “Can he tap into the sights of Draks as you can?”

“Not that I can see, Father.” I tried to ignore the irritation at his suggestion. It had taken me over a hundred years of work to master that ability after my father had placed the mud within my body. I doubted Ilyan could do it after only a few days and a little bit of water. He might be powerful, but I refused to believe he had an ability even close to that.

“But I believe Joclyn can…” Any thought of what I had been about to say was wiped from me with the look my father fixed on me.

My heart accelerated in both fear and expectation, the burn increasing as the tempo did.

“Joclyn can what?” he snapped, the anger in his voice the same every time the girl was spoken of.

“I believe…” I began, careful to choose my words as I steadied myself, “that Joclyn can “see.” I believe she has inherited her father’s ability, as you assumed.”

My disgust at the admission grew as his did, my lips twisting into a snarl along with his, my heritage shining through as I stood beside my father, his malice twisting through me the same way it always had.

“There is more.” I didn’t think I could have kept the disgust out of my voice if I had tried. When Edmund made no move to look at me, I continued, my heart rate accelerating in both disgust and anticipation. “My brother has bonded himself to the brat. She wears the délka vedení královsk.”

He froze at the admission, his eyes unwavering from in front of us, before he began to laugh. The sound was deep and rich as it echoed through the barren wasteland. The servants who cowered around him backed away slowly as the depth of his anger rippled in a sound that should have been joyful.

The marriage of his eldest son.

However, his joy was full of wicked manipulation.

Anticipation of what was to come swelled through me.

“So he has chosen his queen. I would like to see how long he plans on keeping her around.”

He spun to face me, more of his hair coming loose from the tight hairstyle he always kept, the curls falling over his eyes in such a way that he only looked more mad, as if the insanity he kept within himself was about to explode.

I met his gaze head on, the pain of the controlling poisoning lessening somewhat as my body tensed in expectation.

“I will forgive this … travesty … that you have inflicted on us, Ovailia. But we must play our pawns in a much wider net if we wish to win, yes?”

“Yes, Father.”

He smiled at my assent, the charcoal beneath his shoes crunching with each step as he approached me, the wicked creature he held in his hands growling with a feral sound that twisted through me. It was the sound of pain and eagerness, as if he knew what was coming.

A flinch shook my torso at the realization, the need to plea for commiseration strong.

I wouldn’t let my weakness show, though—not to him, not to anyone.

“We will continue with the attack on Prague as planned.” His voice was hard as it carried around us, the cowering peasants slowly righting themselves as they prepared for his instruction. “Send out word to begin closing off the city. I don’t want any mortal coming in or out. Cut off their power, their water, and shield them.”

One by one, the cowering Trpaslíks nodded in understanding, their bodies bowed as they ran away from their master across the charred earth to do his bidding.

Fear I had felt only moments ago faded into an exhilarating anticipation.

“Are you sure it is wise?” I asked cautiously, expecting the scold that would come from my impertinence. “Ilyan still lives. Joclyn is healthy and well from what I could tell. Everything could be for naught.”

“Or I can destroy them as I do all others. Over a million of my little pets descending on the city, and in the middle are Ilyan and his broken subjects.” He laughed at the image, his joy feeling as infectious as the thunder that clapped above us, the sound deep and low as if the earth was screaming at what had been decided, at what was going to happen.

There was no way Ilyan could stop it. There was no way he could survive it. He would be bitten like all the others, and if he was … He would become little more than Edmund’s puppet at that point, just like everyone else the nasty little creatures would infect. Edmund’s army, all of the magic under his control. It was only days away.

Finally, the golden boy was right where he was meant to be.

I couldn’t stop the smile.

“Are you sure it will work? We don’t even know if that is where they are going.”

“I know,” he said with a smile. “Sain has infected the sight, and Ilyan will do anything to protect that pathetic city he loves so much. He doesn’t want me to control Imdalind, child. I know that is where he is going.”

“Right into your hands.”

My father moved so close I could see the blood vessels in his eyes, the veins much darker than they should be, the lines casting a shadow over his face as he leaned into me. His thick fingers lifted my chin up, holding me in place, holding my gaze as he sneered.

“Right into the end,” he whispered, his breath moving over my face, and I tensed. “It’s time to show the mortals who really owns the world. To show them how
safe
they really are. All the magic in the world belongs to me. I was the first to bare the mark of the Chosen Child. I saved the world from fire. The wells of Imdalind chose me to create the magic of the world into something more, and I am going to make sure it stays that way.” He smiled as he stepped away, continuing to stroke the monster he held in his hands, his eyes scanning over the barren wasteland as if he was looking for something in particular.

“We may have failed today, but everything is working to our favor.” His voice was like honey, and I tensed for what was coming. “But that means we have to work harder. We cannot fail a second time. If we do, only death will await those who fail me.”

“Yes, Father.”

He nodded once at my obedience, his focus still away from me, lost in something I couldn’t see. The focus on his face made me uncomfortable as I stood straight and waited, careful to keep my body steady through the pain, my face fixed with the same powerful snarl I always held.

“I want you to start by taking Wynifred’s heart. I have had enough of that girl. And, if this is the true extent of her power, then it is mine. It should have been mine from the beginning.”

“Consider it done.”

It seemed simple enough, but the look on his face as he turned to me promised of more to come. I tensed again, keeping my eyes on him as he walked, lightning cutting through the sky behind him in a warning I neither heard nor cared about.

“I want Sain back,” he whispered, his voice making his desire sound deeper than I knew it to be. “I want you to lure him back to us, to you. I want you to connect with him and use his sight.”

“I don’t think that is possible.”

“Oh, it is possible.” The eagerness in his voice was communicable. “His mind is infected, and as much as he tries to deny it, he is too proud to admit he is damaged. He will not be able to escape the insanity for long. You need to create an opportunity to
help
him and bring him back to us. Arousal is a beautiful device.” His hand was hot as it rested against my cheek, his thumb hard as it pushed against my skin.

I knew the touch was in warning. The way he looked at me promised that. While I wanted to shy away from his touch, move away from the idea in general, I also knew I didn’t have a choice. I had to do this whether I wanted to or not.

I supposed it was best to make the most of it

“Yes, Father,” I said with a smile, the feigned eagerness cementing itself in place.

He smiled as I did, his eyes flashing as he pushed the tiny winged creature toward me, the instruction clear even without words.

I grit my teeth in understanding, careful not to let my displeasure shine through my eyes as I stripped my shirt from my body, turning away from him and presenting him with my bare back, the scarred flesh clear in my mind’s eye.

The raised ridge of the scar that ran the length of my spine along with the open flesh at the base, and riddled over all of it was the kiss of the monster my father held in his hands. Each one was an infection of magic as he worked to strengthen me and make me into the weapon he envisioned me to be.

That I wanted to be.

I held the black water in my body. My parents’ powerful magic had been infused and strengthened by his experiments, by the centuries of exercises and administrations.

I tensed as I heard him come closer, the ash crunching beneath his feet as the creature snarled, its claws digging into my flesh as it held on and bit down. Then I collapsed to the ground below me, the heat from the earth seeping into my body, the distant sight of the Draks flashing before my eyes.

I stared at her through the dim, multicolored lights that lined the roof of the cave. The small, multicolored bobbles followed their owners as we all walked through the dank cavern. While bright, the cave was too massive, full of too many sharp edges, and the light only gave everything jagged shadows that shivered with life as we moved. It was something that wasn’t necessarily wanted as I stared at the girl who had become my best friend faster than I could have thought possible. The girl I had trusted with pretty much every secret and had let into my life in spite of all the insecurities my father had built up in me by disappearing.

Wyn.

Except it wasn’t Wyn, based on what she had told me.

Or maybe it was.

I wasn’t very sure anymore.

I didn’t know what to say.

I mean … What do you say?

It had been two days since we had found ourselves moving endlessly through the depth of the cave. Two days of awkward small talk and growing agitation. It wasn’t until a few hours ago, when she had finally started talking, that everything had begun to make sense, no matter how confusing it still was.

I had no doubt in my mind that everything she had told me was true. I knew it. I knew it because I had seen it in the way her personality had changed since I had removed the curse from her—the way she moved, the way everyone interacted with her, and the way she seemed so buddy-buddy with Thom.

Okay, more than buddy-buddy, but I wasn’t going to tell her that, especially with what she had just revealed to me.

Suddenly, Thom’s outburst into her well-being in Italy all those months ago wasn’t so out of character.

A relationship. An assassin. A child.

I could only imagine how hard it must have been for her to tell me, how nervous she would have been about how I would react.

I needed her to know I understood that. She was still my friend, no matter what, no matter how hard it was to understand everything.

“Okay…” Or I could just say that.