Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4) (20 page)

The laugh stopped as the dream ended, a loud gasp escaping my lips as I sat straight up in bed, Ilyan's arm falling off me.

My chest shook as I gasped in large ragged breaths that followed me from the dream. My magic felt raw and ripped as I sat heaving, my muscles tensing uncomfortably in my fear. I pushed it away, pushed away the deep pulse of anger and hatred that flooded over me from the forest, but the raw edges of my magic seemed to be pulling it into me. I tried to calm myself, to loosen the pressure that had bound itself in my muscles, my eyes wide as I stared into the pitch dark of our room.

“It was all a dream,” I said aloud, begging myself to believe it. “Just a dream.”

I took in another quaking breath as I pushed my fear into nothing, turning toward the balcony that looked over the forest.

I knew I shouldn’t look; I knew it was foolish, but I couldn't stop myself. I turned as the darkness of the cloud-covered sky met my eyes, a fork of lightning cutting through the dark and I jumped, only to be met with the empty balcony.

I took one cleansing breath before there was a loud knock on the door, the sound echoing through the silence of the night.

Fear tensed through my back as I pulled the blanket up to my chin, my fingers knitting through the soft cotton. My mind screamed for me to hide, to run. I stayed still, though, my body crippled in fear as my mind fought the panic that the ragged remains of the nightmare only seemed to heighten.

I peered through the darkness that surrounded me as the knock came again, this sound more persistent, almost fearful. I looked toward Ilyan, ready to wake him up when a muffled noise came from the other side, and the anxiety that had wound its way through my spine loosened.

“Open up,” Wyn pleaded, her voice low and strained.

My eyes widened at her voice, my magic flying away from me until I felt the warm strength that surrounded her hit me. I should have felt the familiar pulse of her magic before, but the heightened aggression from the forest had smothered it, my own panic forgetting to check.

It
was
her.

I navigated my way through the darkness that felt heavy and forbidding, opening the door to Wyn to find the hallway lit with shadows of black and light from the orb of orange light that hovered above her hands. She was dressed in dark washed jeans and a black leather jacket that looked vaguely familiar, the dark colors making her blend into the pitch of the hallway.

“Took you long enough,” she said as I opened the door, her voice strained. I had been so happy to hear her voice, but that joy slipped into the darkness as I caught sight of the deep worry that lined her face, my own anxieties trying to flare again.

“Is Ilyan awake?” she asked, the panicked edge growing more persistent.

“No.” I shook my head. “Is everything okay?”

I asked the question, even though I could see the answer in her eyes.

Wyn sighed and looked past me into the darkened room, her brows knit together as she tried to decide what to do. I just stood still as I waited, not knowing if I should let her in or not. I wasn't exactly sure of the protocol in a situation like this. I couldn’t exactly say, ‘Please come in and wake up your shirtless king. I'm sure he won't mind,’ and be met with happy smiles. Ilyan didn’t wake up easily. Besides, I was sure that he would mind a lot more than Wyn would assume. So I stayed still, my shoulders tense as I blocked her path, waiting for her to explain why she was here.

“I'm not sure yet. I was on guard and… something has changed. I want Ilyan’s opinion,” she whispered as her eyes darted back to me, even though it was obvious I wasn’t the one she wanted to be talking to.

It didn’t matter. I knew what she was talking about because I had felt it. I had felt the swell of anger when I had woken up. I could still feel it now, prickling through the air, no matter how much I tried to ignore it.

“Is it about the anger in the camps?” I asked.

“You feel it, too?” she asked, the awe in her eyes taking me off guard. I looked at her for a minute before nodding once, not sure how else to respond to her.

“I don’t know what it is,” Wyn said, the deep alarm in her voice growing. “We haven’t had a bigger swell of them from what I can tell, but something is different.”

Wyn shuffled her feet as she spoke, making it clear that there was something she wasn’t telling me. Something was wrong, something must be coming. If something was coming… I swallowed heavily, pushing the thought from my mind. Just knowing that something was wrong felt like a contagion against my heart. We needed Ilyan.

“You better come in,” I said before stepping aside and closing the door behind her. I didn’t know if Ilyan would approve of this decision, but I had a feeling this was something he needed to know right away.

The light Wyn held in her hands suddenly flew away from her and nestled in the large wooden rafters of the ceiling only to cast weird fingers of light over the room. It flickered in elongated shapes that brought some of the horrors of my dream back. I looked toward the window, almost expecting to see Edmund there, but it was empty.

“It is so weird that you two sleep together,” she said from right behind me, obviously seeing the rumpled sheets that I had jumped out of a moment before.

Embarrassment wiggled through my stomach at her observation. I suddenly felt very uncomfortable having her here, like she was seeing something that was meant for me and Ilyan only. I folded my arms around my torso, wishing I had made her wait outside, wishing I could ask her to leave.

“I have nightmares,” I said, the attempt to defend my choice coming off flat. Not like it made any difference, especially since I hadn’t had any of those nightmares in months, weeks for everyone else.

“Yes, Thom told me,” she said casually, and I narrowed my eyes at her. She had mentioned him more than once the few times that I had seen her, making it sound like Thom had somehow become her confidante in two days flat. I wanted to ask, but she wasn’t even looking at me anymore; her focus was out the large windows as she chewed on her lip.

I was suddenly glad that Wyn wasn’t watching me as I draped my arm over Ilyan, leaning over him as I ran the tips of my fingers over the scars on his chest. I pushed the warm pressure of my magic into the thin white lines as I traced them, the small surges forcing him awake.

Ilyan.
I sent the whisper into his mind, knowing he could hear me even if he wasn’t fully alert.
I need you to wake up.

His alarm peaked at my statement, his fear for me heightening in apprehension. His arms wrapped around me without warning, pulling me into him before I could get away, my feet leaving the floor as he rolled me on top of him.

“Jste all right, mi lasko?” His lips brushed against my jaw as he mumbled, his accent thick as he transitioned between English and Czech.

I’m fine,
I said as I tried to fight the blush that moved up my cheeks from being in this position with him in front of someone else. “Wyn is here.”

“What do you mean Wyn is here?” he asked, his usual morning impatience invading his voice like the snap of a whip.

“She means I am standing next to you, watching this horrible display,” Wyn’s voice was a sugar smack that I didn’t think I had heard from her before. “So, if you wouldn’t mind putting a shirt on...”

I wasn’t sure if Wyn was being snotty or trying to be funny, but either way, I couldn’t ignore the way her presence made me feel guilty, or the way Ilyan’s hackles went up while the joy at having me in his arms vanished into frustration.

I looked up at her and narrowed my eyes, confusion setting in. I did not understand where this snappy attitude was coming from, or even why she was talking to him like this. Wyn had always been so polite, so formal, to Ilyan. She had even told me on several occasions that they didn’t get along because she was scared of him.

I looked to her, almost shocked to see her standing differently, her face a little more ruffled than fun loving. The change caught me off guard, almost like I was looking at someone else. I stretched my magic toward her, suddenly worried that it wasn’t her, but the magic was the same—if not a little warmer than it had been a few minutes before.

“Wynifred,” Ilyan said, his voice shifting into the deep, commanding tone he usually kept hidden. “What are you doing in my chamber?”

“I have something I need to talk to you about.”

“By invading my quarters before dawn? You should know better. We have a meeting scheduled for noon; it can wait until then, I am sure.” Ilyan’s voice was hard, the disappointment startling me. I had never heard him speak to someone so harshly before.

Ilyan sat up swiftly, his arms still tight around me as he kept me in his lap, obviously intent to keep me there. “I had no idea you and I were already back on such loose terms.”

“You know you missed me, My Lord,” she cooed, the honey in her voice increasing, if that was possible. “You can blame Jos for letting me in.”

I looked up at her and narrowed my eyes at her, thoroughly lost now. I had thought it weird before, but this behavior was downright alarming. I held onto Ilyan tighter, hating how her voice made me feel almost possessive of him. My eyes narrowed at her as I demanded an explanation in silence. Her eyes met mine, and she wilted, her face changing as our eyes met, the lines softening as she looked at me with the same fear she had a minute before.

The Wyn I knew came to life before me, just as I felt Talon’s magic flare inside of her. My heart clenched at the realization, the understanding of what was going on. She was talking to Ilyan, her mate’s best friend, someone who must be reminding her of what she had lost. I could understand that pain; perhaps not to that extent, but I understood. The heartbreak was fueling her frustrations, her pain.

“It is not Joclyn that I am speaking to; it is you, and you would do well to remember the respect that I demand.” His voice was stiff as his arms tightened around me. His grip was firm, as if he was afraid I was going to leave, and judging by the amount of embarrassment in my body, it was a good presumption.

“Yes, My Lord,” Wyn said, her voice stiff and uncomfortable as she curtseyed.

“Good, but for now, why don’t you wait outside for me.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Wyn said, the sass that had lined her voice before vanishing into a deep desperation, “I think Edmund has arrived.”

Before, I could tell she wasn’t being honest with me, and now I knew why. The simple admission was like a slap to the face. The air left my chest as the fear that I had been ignoring engulfed me in a painful pressure that fought its way out. Ilyan became rigid beneath me, the tension in his arms growing as he reacted to the news of his father’s possible arrival.

Ilyan’s sudden tension over Edmund shocked me. I had watched Ilyan mock his father as well as fight him in Santa Fe, yet the feeling that moved from him to me now was anything but eagerness to continue that fight.

It wasn’t because he was scared of fighting him, however. It was because he was scared of losing me.

I didn’t need the flash of Ilyan’s memory to see that heart-breaking moment of the sight, my limp body in Ilyan’s arms. I pushed it away as he did, his muscles tightening.

“How do you know?” Ilyan’s voice was a tight line, his eyes narrowing toward her. Even though I had felt his fear, I saw no sign of it, only the powerful determination he always had.

“The magic has changed, My Lord; the strength of it has grown. Although, I can't pinpoint why.”

Ilyan pressed me against him once, his lips moving against my hair—unseen by Wyn—before he stood, the strength of our connection slipping as our skin lost contact.

“Where?” His voice rumbled as he pulled a shirt out of the bureau next to the bed, the muscles in his back rippling as he pulled it on, the tension in his body growing.

“To the east, mostly, but it's spreading,” Wyn said, her voice confident until Ilyan turned around to face her, her usual apprehension around him returning.

“How fast?” Ilyan took a step forward as he spoke, his tall frame towering over Wyn's small one, and she recoiled, stepping back a bit.

“Fast.”

Ilyan left Wyn cowering in the middle of the room as he moved toward the large map that still sat on the table near the window. He glanced at it briefly before looking up to me, his eyes seeming to glow as his thoughts flowed through the weak connection between us. I cringed as they hurtled into my mind, the distorted worries and fears mixing together until they came through.

You want me to find Cail? Cail is dead. Isn’t he?
I almost screamed the words into his mind, my agitation almost blinding me.

That thought had sent my emotions tumbling into the deep abyss, my fingers clenched into the bed. My body began to shake as I stared at him, trying to focus on him, but it didn’t help. The walls that surrounded Ilyan had already begun to bleed red, and my breathing picked up as it clouded my vision.

“Yes, he is passed,” Ilyan said softly, his eyes still intently focused on me as he watched me battle my demons. “But the magic will be similar; someone will be stronger than everyone else. That is who we are looking for.”

I swallowed at the idea, my throat constricting and making it hard to breathe. I gasped as I tried to push the fear away, to bring the song and the memories to my mind and stay in the here and now. It wasn’t helping, just the idea of feeling Cail’s magic against me again was crippling.

“You are bigger than it,” Ilyan soothed, his voice soft and familiar. I turned from the bleeding walls to look at him, my eyes wide as I tried to fight the feeling, as my magic pushed the fear away.

“You can do it, Joclyn,” he whispered as he moved to kneel before me in his attempt to soothe me. “You can do it,” he whispered, his voice wearing down the edges of the fear that plagued me.

Ilyan reached up with his free hand and placed it against my cheek, the skin warm as he looked into me, his mind filled with a kiss he couldn’t give me right now. The thought pushed the last of the fear away, and my body relaxed as I looked at him, blocking out the blood-covered walls, stopping my fear.