Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4) (9 page)

His fingers brushed against my neck as he continued to work, each touch of his skin against mine sending electric pulses of magic into me. I smiled at the sensation and lowered my head a bit, giving him easier access to the long lengths that fell down my back.

“It was why I cut my hair the first time,” he said, the tone of his voice changing to that deep pull that brought my attention back to his story. “I was the first one to do so, hundreds of years before it became the fashion of the mortals, and I cannot tell you how many elders scorned me for my choice, but to me, I had no other. I would grow my hair out for council or for battle. For the most part, I kept it short, however, unwilling to place the braids that in many ways seemed almost a painful mockery to me. Then I received the sight, which told me of your existence, and I grew my hair out naturally and wore my hair longer more often, knowing someday I would finally get the chance to braid your hair, that you would braid mine…”

My chest constricted as what he said seeped into me, the warmth of his fingers as they moved along my neck sparking my concerns. I wasn’t sure if I was excited or terrified. It wasn’t like a bonding wasn’t something we had talked about—okay, had almost done. It was how he spoke about it in that moment that was different.

“Ilyan?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper; my heart seemed to have stopped beating. Ilyan’s words burned into me, blending with his thoughts in a cacophony of emotions and desires.

I don’t know why I had never understood it before. Beyond waiting for me, beyond keeping me safe, Ilyan had wanted nothing more than to have that which he had seen others have. What the sight had told that he could only have with me. I knew—I could feel it in the way he pushed away the flare of his emotions—that he would never fully admit that. Even to himself.

Ilyan lightly pulled on my hair as he secured the band. His weight shifted as he turned to face me, his legs stretched out on either side of me.

“I do not know what this connection of our souls means, mi lasko,” he whispered as he finally answered my question, his hands enclosing around mine. “It affects us in ways I never thought possible, and while I am not sure how that may affect our future, I can tell you this: it changes nothing between us.”

They were words that hours ago I would have loved to hear, and I did. For some reason, though, my stomach had turned into butterflies and my heart had taken on a stutter all its own.

So you are still my kick-butt trainer with bad taste in clothes?
I spoke into his mind, trying desperately to ease my nerves, but it didn’t work. Even my subconscious voice trembled.

“Something like that,” Ilyan said with a smile, his hand squeezing mine before reaching up and running his finger over my hairline. I smiled at the touch, my muscles tightening all on their own as a snake of pleasure ran through me.

“So… what braid is this?” I asked as I lifted my hand behind my head, the tips of my fingers trembling against the perfect silken strands that Ilyan had just woven.

My nerves jumpstarted in apprehension as Ilyan captured my hand, his own unease surprising me. I had never expected Ilyan to be so nervous, yet I could hear the frantic pulse of his heart, the trembling of his emotions.

“The braid of true love,” he whispered as he released my hand, his eyes unwavering from mine. “It is normally braided by the man after the woman consents to be his mate. The sign that she is taken. The woman receives this braid, while a man will let his hair hang free for the first time in his life, showing he is waiting for her to braid it after the bond is complete.” His eyes never even deviated a millimeter from mine as he spoke. I was sure I looked like I had been hit by a truck.

Ilyan?
I asked, my nerves melding into a form of eager panic that I wasn’t sure made sense. Heck. Nothing made sense. Was Ilyan asking me to bond myself to him? Now?

“Hmmm,” Ilyan sighed as his hand moved to press against my mark, his touch soft as the jolt wound through me, his fingers continuing to run over the raised skin.

“I hold by my original choice, Joclyn. You are not ready to make a decision like that yet. I chose this braid because of how our bond has formed between us, how our hearts beat in time, how you speak to me, and how you can feel the thoughts in my heart. You see, in every transition of the hair, small hearts form, making a trail over your head and down your back…” Ilyan led my hand over the braid as he spoke, his fingers moving mine over each of the hearts that he had formed into my hair.

“One heart for every beat of mine that you own.
Every single one,” he whispered as he pulled me close, his soft lips brushing against mine gently as he held me against him. I gasped, my breath trapped in my chest as I waited for more to come. His mouth moved over my cheek to my jawbone before turning to my lips, the touch as soft as a feather.

My heart pulsed faster in expectation, my hands moving to cling to his elbows in a frantic need to have him closer. I could feel his heart beat against me, the heavy bass drum of it thumping against my chest as he held me, his skin flush with my body.

He didn’t move any closer. He stayed still, his lips a soft whisper against mine.

“Kiss me,” I begged in a soft, breathless voice.

Ilyan’s breath drifted over my skin as he laughed, his fingers caressing my mark as a small surge wound its way over my spine before he pulled me into him. His lips pressed into mine as his hand wrapped around my waist, holding me against him.

My hands trailed from his elbows to his back, the feeling of his bare skin shocking. I clung to him as he kissed me, as I kissed him. My chest heaved as he pulled away, his hands still tight against my clothing, keeping me against him with his cheek pressed to mine.

I breathed deeply while the sky lit up around us, the rumble of thunder loud as it rolled through the air, the magic of the earth a raw and powerful jolt that weaved its way within me.

“Do you feel that?” Ilyan asked, his voice a whisper in my ear. “The power from the earth?”

“Yes.”

“Then I am no longer alone,” Ilyan said, his voice deep and relaxed.

The thoughts of all the time he had been ostracized because of his power filled me—the feeling when he killed his friend, as well as when he had been too scared to help those around him. The thoughts took away my breath and I clung to him, my fingers pressing into the skin of his back as I held him.

“You never were,” I breathed against his skin, my fingers running over his hairline before I kissed him.

Never.

Six

The rain had stopped falling sometime before dawn, the long streaks of water vanishing into the air as a chilled breeze took their place. I had watched for hours as the lightning struck, the abbey rumbling with every thunder clap as the storm came closer. The wind had come after the rain left, the powerful gusts driving against the barrier that Ilyan had placed over the open window frames. I almost wished it would break through.

I wanted the wind and the rain to splash against my face and to feel the magic they carried move into me. I wanted to stand still in the midst of the storm as it raged around me. I would have removed the barrier, but I didn’t want to wake Ilyan. He slept so soundly as he held me against him, his breathing calm and shallow as he dreamed, his arm a comforting weight around my waist.

I had tried to sleep, to take advantage of the calm I felt, but it wasn’t taking. So I had lain still, breathing into Ilyan’s chest while our song flowed from his lips until he had drifted away, his words fading into nothing.

I wished I could sleep, but I wasn’t tired. The Drak blood ran through me stronger than it had before, the promise that Dramin had given me of less sleep and no food ringing clear. I guess the no sleep part had finally kicked in.

I smiled at the memory of Dramin giving me the mug on that very first day, his kind eyes and the sound of his laugh. My smile faded as quickly as it had come, the image of my jovial “uncle” replaced with one of my dying brother. Just the thought of Dramin brought a bad taste to my mouth. My brother, dying in the other room with nothing I could do to save him.

No, that was wrong.

Sain
wouldn’t let me save him.

I gritted my teeth at the thought, my blood boiling at my father’s stubborn and ancient mindset. I still didn’t understand why they wouldn’t let me save him, why they were so adamant that they follow the sight.

No matter how many snow-filled graves I saw in my sights, I couldn’t let someone die. My mother hadn’t raised me that way. I should be able to help someone who needs me.

What was to say that the future wouldn’t come about another way?

I wish my father had told me something, anything, about
why
it was so important to follow the sights. More reason than a culture I didn’t understand, more than the nameless sights of the zlomený, or unknown factors with no real consequence. I needed a reason. The fact that he hadn’t given me one almost worried me more.

I knew I should be as protective of the sights as my father was. I had sensed their power and the promise of truth they held as the visions had unfolded before me. I knew that what I had seen would come to pass; I knew it because the magic told me so.

I just wished that were enough for me.

I could feel Dramin across the abbey, alone in his room where he lay with his magic dead inside of him. My magic prickled through me as I felt him, and a thought I almost didn’t want to let in came over me. Everyone was sleeping—everyone except Sain, who stood guard in the bell tower.

I could save my brother.

I didn’t care what the repercussions were; right then, it didn’t matter. It was my choice, and I wouldn’t let him die. With my breath trapped in my chest, I turned my head toward Ilyan, his body relaxed in sleep. If one thing was certain when it came to Ilyan, he didn’t wake up easily, and when he did eventually awaken, it always took him a minute to understand what was going on. I could use that to my benefit.

I didn’t dare breathe as I shimmied away from him, his arm falling like a dead fish against the white sheets. The coldness of the stone floor quivered up my legs as my bare feet pressed against the smooth surface, the breath I held burning to escape at the chill. I stayed still as I waited for Ilyan to react to my movement, but he didn’t even move.

“Forgive me, love,” I whispered without knowing why. I had felt Ilyan’s own frustration when Sain had expressed his desire. His role as king had dictated his decision to let Dramin die, not his better nature. It was my better nature that I wouldn’t let lay quiet.

I uncoiled my body before slipping my feet into my red shoes and moved across the room, shuffling my feet in an attempt to be as silent as possible. The large wooden door opened noiselessly as my magic pushed into it, the gentle tap of the wood as it closed behind me sounding like a battering ram in my ears. My muscles tensed at the sound, but I pushed the anxiety away as my hands pressed against the door, waiting for a sign that Ilyan was waking up.

I stretched my magic toward him as I closed my eyes, my mind pulsing with the image of the room that came into view. Ilyan slept soundly, his arm still stretched out over the warm sheets I had just vacated. The image almost made me want to curl up next to him again. He looked so calm, so beautiful. I only wished he would understand my choice in what I was about to do.

I ignored the small flame of guilt that was trying to build inside of me and ran my hand over the edges of the door. My magic fired as I sealed the door with a heavy barrier that I hoped would keep him in place, in silence, and oblivious to my departure. I just needed enough time to get to Dramin and heal him before Ilyan woke up. It wouldn’t take him much to break through the barrier, no matter how powerful I was.

I faced the door as the excitement at healing Dramin began to grow, the guilt falling away with the knowledge that I was doing the right thing. That was, of course, before I turned, ready to make my way toward Dramin’s door that called to me through the dark.

With one look at the long, dark hallway, my ironclad cage of security slipped, releasing the demons. Muscle spasms rippled through me and my arms moved to circle around me in a desperate attempt to hold myself together.

“It’s j-just a hallway,” I reminded myself in a whisper. An ancient passageway made of stone, lined with fire-burning sconces.
Just a hallway.
I tried to hold on to what should have been a simple fact, but it didn’t look like just a hallway anymore. It looked like a nightmare.

My eyes widened as the walls of the passage moved in and out as they breathed, red lines trailing down the stones as they bled. My breathing picked up as I watched, my anxiety peaking as the floor seemed to shift beneath me. A small gasp escaped my lips as I clung to the door, my hands pressing into the wood as I waited for the unstable movement to stop.

My eyes snapped shut as I looked away from the horrors I faced, trying to push away my irrational fears. I kept my mind trained on the rough ridges of the ancient wood that stretched underneath my fingertips. The shadow of Ilyan’s magic bolted through the Štít as he slept, the familiarity like a warm blanket, the strength just enough for me to push away the panic and find control over it.

The floor stabilized as my breathing settled, the rhythm matching the pulse of my heart as I focused on the black behind my eyelids.

My eyes opened to the pure grey stone of the hallway, the shadows wavering in the light that flickered from the sconces. There was nothing else, not anymore. No monsters, no demons. Just me and a clear path to Dramin.

“You are bigger than it,” I said to myself, my voice a stable whisper in the dimly lit hall. I smiled at the thought and put one foot forward, almost expecting the floor to shift at the step, but everything stayed as steady as my heartbeat. My lips twitched into a smile as I let my fingers run over the smooth, cold stone of the wall as I walked forward. My steps slow as magic pulled me toward the dying man.