Kiss of Fire (23 page)

“It can, but I think Edmund only hopes to weaken him further, and gain control over his magic that much faster.”

“Why? Why is he doing this?”

“A punishment probably, but also to increase his control. Edmund has always viewed Ryland as a weapon, and now he sees the best opportunity to use him as such.”

“We will be too late, won’t we?”

Ilyan’s face made it clear that he didn’t know. Our eyes locked together in some silent agreement that we would try, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that trying wouldn’t be enough anymore.

Ilyan would say no more; he simply laid me back down in his bed and put me to sleep with his magic. I was probably more grateful than I should have been, considering all I dreamed about was chasing a bloody trail through the golden hallways of the LaRue mansion.

The following morning, I realized the downside of the white-on-white scheme of Ilyan’s room. The moment the sun began to creep over the horizon and the gray light of dawn had begun to fade away, the room became supercharged with light. The beams of golden sun shone through the window that Ilyan had pushed his bed up against. They bounced around and increased in brightness as the white walls and carpet reflected them back. Once the light had infiltrated my troubled sleep, I sat upright, sleep leaving me much quicker than I would have liked.

I was still in Ilyan’s bed, still in Ilyan’s rooms. I felt uncomfortable and scared. I shouldn’t be here. Not only was he some sort of king in this place, he was awfully friendly.

I sat there trying to plan some form of escape. Even if I made it out the door, I wasn’t sure I could remember which door led to the brown and orange room. I was having trouble focusing; a subtle buzzing was taking over my body, causing my mind to bounce around. It felt like the warm heat I had always felt from Ryland and Ilyan, but more alive, more electric. I brushed off the feeling, trying to focus on my escape again. The buzzing under my skin grew steadily, making me feel jittery and anxious.

I threw the blankets away from me, intent on just storming down the hall in the hopes of at least finding Wyn, when a loud grunt issued from the foot of the bed, followed by a large thump that shook the room. I looked toward the noise, terrified in my jittery state, that some explosion had gone off. Instead, I was treated to Ilyan yelling, or perhaps swearing, in Czech before he crawled on hands and knees into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

I stared at the door in bewilderment; I wasn’t sure whether I should laugh hysterically or not. I could hear him thump around in the bathroom, random foreign words filtering through the ivory-colored doors. I sat up, fully intent on making my escape when Ilyan’s thumping and yelling was joined by another voice, from someone running rapidly down the hall toward me. My heart sputtered as the door flung open and a very agitated, while still perfectly poised, Ovailia burst through the door.

“What in heaven’s name...” She froze at the sight of me, her eyes bugging out of her head as her jaw worked mechanically in place.

Seeing Ovailia there with such a terrifying look on her face sent the energy into overdrive as it buzzed and vibrated through me. I grabbed the covers and pulled them up to my chin, realizing too late that that was probably not the best action to take. Ovailia’s jaw only dropped more. I looked down; I was wearing one of Ilyan’s light colored, button-up shirts... great.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” I said, desperately hoping she would believe me and not question any more. After all, I had absolutely no idea what I would say. I needed Ryland.

The energy under my skin increased, and I felt a desperate need to get rid of it.

“What are you doing here?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came out. I could feel my cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson. Ovailia rushed to the bathroom door without saying another word to me, her eyes never leaving my blush stained face.

The door to the bathroom slammed behind her and my head dropped into the white cotton blankets. Great. This was not the way I wanted to start my day. The yelling in the bathroom increased as Ovailia joined in the fray. I could make out the two voices distinctly, even though I couldn’t understand the words they were yelling at each other. I was secretly glad I didn’t understand Czech. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know what they were saying.

I jumped off the bed, heading toward Ryland’s sweater that lay across the foot. I grabbed it and went to tug off the yellow shirt that Ilyan had dressed me in. My blush deepened and melted into an embarrassed anger at the thought of what state I had been in after the bath and exactly what I was wearing now. I froze for only a moment before removing the shirt and tugging on one of Wyn’s band shirts that had been laid out next to Ryland’s sweater. I pulled the shirt and sweater on, keeping a close ear on the argument going on in the bathroom, just in case someone walked in on me. I glanced around for my pants, my heart dropping at finding nothing, not even the pajama pants I had worn last night. I guess I would have to stay in the plaid shorts I had been dressed in a bit longer.

I tugged the sweater down in hopes of hiding what I could only assume were Ilyan’s boxers. I pushed down my anger at being left to sleep here and thrown into such a situation; after all, how hard would it have been to just walk me down the hall?

I turned to make my escape just as Ovailia burst through the bathroom door, still yelling something angrily in Czech. She was followed close behind by Ilyan who was soaking wet with soap in his hair and a white towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist. The sight of him supercharged my agitation, bringing the level of buzzing on my skin to new heights. I looked back and forth from him to Ovailia, who yelled angrily. Ilyan rebutted something before Ovailia stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Ilyan exhaled angrily before turning to me.

“Pants are in the closet.” His accent was thick, and it took me a moment to register exactly what he had said. He waved his hand toward a door on the opposite end of the room before turning back to the bathroom. I immediately decided to forgo the pants and continue with my original plan to track down Wyn.

“Oh, and Joclyn,” his head poked out from behind the bathroom door, “don’t go anywhere.”

I fumed angrily at him before he closed the door to go back to his shower. I rubbed my arms abrasively in the hopes of lessening the buzzing. It seemed to be working a bit, the motion also calming my heart rate. I breathed deeply as I made my way toward the closet, the buzzing now only a hum. My anger and frustration had never reacted this way, but then, I wasn’t sure I had ever been so emotionally charged before.

Ilyan’s closet was a strange place. It was as large as the bathroom, with clothes stacked floor to ceiling. There was little rhyme or reason to it, and it took me a bit to locate pants among the heaps of clothes. I dug through the stacks of designer jeans, grateful that none of these would fit just right. I wasn’t in any mood to be noticed by a large group of people quite yet. I chose one of the only pairs that didn’t have the perfectly placed tears that Ilyan favored, pulling them on over the shorts.

Finding a belt in the mess was surprisingly more difficult than locating pants. I held the pants around me as I searched through drawers and boxes that were littered around the large space. I carefully lifted a sheet that covered one section of the wall and stopped short.

Behind the curtain was a perfectly organized wall of clothes. Each piece of clothing hung on its own hanger, covered with a clear protective bag. On its own, it would have been surprising, given the lack of organization among the rest of the clothes.

It wasn’t just that though; at first, I thought they were costumes. Each shirt was longer and would probably fall to the knee on an average-sized man. Given the lengths and the style, I would almost call them tunics. The light colored garments were cut from fabrics that I could automatically tell where expensive. I fought the urge to remove the bags and run my hands over the soft silks, touch the fine jewels and golden ropes that adorned each one.

I hungrily ran my eyes over the glittering stones, the deep colored embroidery. The sleeves on each piece were exaggerated, but I couldn’t tell by how much, given how loosely they hung on the hangers. Claudius, Macbeth, Lear, Romeo. I could see these on-stage in a million different plays, but they weren’t fake, like costumes; they were shockingly real.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” I jumped at Ilyan’s voice, my hand clutching my chest.

“You scared me!” I spun to him and balked. While now soap-free, he was still only dressed in a towel. I inhaled sharply and stepped away, hoping he hadn’t noticed my reaction. His chest was strong and thick with sinewy muscles, but that wasn’t why I had reacted. The skin across his chest was criss-crossed with hundreds of raised scars, like he had been whipped.

I shook my head and looked away. My skin buzzed as my agitation returned, coming in full force again. I wasn’t as mad as I should have been to see him dressed in only a towel.

“Sorry, but you were looking at my private collection; you kind of deserved it,” he chuckled.

“Private collection?” I let the sheet fall over the clothes again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. They are not a secret after all. I wear them to council.” He handed me a belt he had removed from under a pile of undershirts; I would have never found it.

“Council? You mean the meeting you had yesterday?”

“Yes, it is an official meeting, so I have to look the part.” He grinned, but it looked more like a grimace.

“You mean, like King?”

His face fell. He turned from me and grabbed a few items of clothing off the many disorganized piles.

“Not ‘like’, Joclyn, just King.” He gave me a sad, little smile and disappeared behind a partition I hadn’t noticed due to the large amount of clothes draped over it.

“So, do I need to call you ‘My Lord’ now?”

He flung the towel over the side to join the clothes already there, and I instantly looked down at my feet, turning my back to him in embarrassment and frustration.

“That depends on a few things.”

“Like what?” I asked as he came out from behind the partition, still pulling his shirt over his head.

“Well, for starters, when we are together like this.” I blushed, which only caused him to smile. “Just the two of us, I mean. Or with Wynifred and Talon, then, no. But around anyone else, then, yes.”

I nodded my head in understanding, knowing I would mess it up.

“Why not Wyn and Talon?”

“Wynifred was not raised with us, so she forgets from time to time. Most of the time, I let it slide as she and Talon have undergone the Zȇlství, but there are times when she probably needs to remember her place a bit more.”

“And Talon?”

“Talon and I grew up together; it would just be weird if he started calling me ‘My Lord’ and bowing all the time.”

“Were you not always king?”

“No, Silnỳ.” His answer was definite, and strangely final.

I shut my mouth, sure he didn’t want me to ask any more questions about his royal status.

“What does that mean?” I asked, hoping my change in subject was easy to follow.

“What?”

“
Silnỳ
?” The word sounded odd on my tongue.

He looked at me quietly, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“It means, ‘little one’.”

I only nodded at him. What an odd nickname.

“Now, what do you say to a little bit of training for that newly awakened kouzlo of yours?”

“Training?”

“Yes, that buzz in your fingertips? I think it’s dying to get out.”

I looked at my fingers; it seemed silly that I hadn’t realized exactly what it was before.

“It’s…” I stopped mid-sentence, the proper words not finding the right place.

“It’s your magic, Joclyn. Perfectly centered and dying for you to learn to control it.”

I looked up at him, stunned; the buzzing grew a bit at Ilyan’s sly half-smile.

“I think it’s waited long enough, don’t you?” He left the closet quickly; I padded after him in bare feet, so that I could keep up. He nodded to the guard and kept moving. I finally caught up to him as he opened a large door that led outside.

“Now,” he announced, “the real fun begins. What do you say to growing a tree?”

“Growing a tree?” I said, alarmed. “How is that going to help me save Ryland?” The buzzing grew as panic joined my frustration.

“It will help because then you will be able to use your magic,” he chuckled, which only made me more upset.

“Growing a tree is not going to help me! How will I use that? Grow a tree and then go hide in it? That doesn’t help anyone.” I could hear the harsh edge of panic creep steadily into my voice.

“It helps us more if you know even a little bit of what you are doing than nothing at all.” Ilyan’s voice was still calm, and somehow, that helped to decrease my panic.

“So when will I learn magic that can help me save Ryland?” The buzzing grew more with the fuel from my stress. I felt like I was going to explode. I breathed deeply, trying to gain control.

“We have eight days, Joclyn. I can’t possibly teach you everything in eight days. So we will be learning the basics.” His calm voice was a whisper compared to mine.

“The basics? How am I supposed to do anything with the basics?”

“We will begin,” he continued, ignoring my outburst, “with plant growth so that you can gain control of your power. I will then teach you how to control wind, and if you are very lucky, we may touch on energy fields.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes, Silnỳ. I will teach you enough so you can go in, defend yourself if you must, and so you can run away when necessary.”

“Run away?” My heart plunged into my toes, my voice dropping in tone as my heart rate increased in timber. “I thought we were going to save him.”

“We are.” He left it at that and strolled away from me.

“Then why do I need to know how to run away?”