Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4) (18 page)

“This is a good thing you are doing, Joclyn,” he said, his voice so distant that I wouldn’t have been sure he was really talking to me if he hadn’t said my name. “It will be hard for him to accept this gift, but he needs to; he cannot be himself without it.”

I knew what he was saying was meant to be a compliment, a show of acceptance from father to daughter, and the very thing I had been so desperate for. I didn't hear that, though. I only felt my anger swell at his words. I saw the flash of disapproval as he held Ryland’s gasping body, my foolish mind pulling out a different meaning altogether, the same as I had done before.

He was happy I was doing this for Ryland; he was concerned for Ryland. I knew that wasn't what he meant—he meant that he was happy that I had made the choice I did. Still, I couldn't stop the jealous anger from swelling.

I cringed at the sensation, my breathing picking up as I tried to push the frustration away.

“Is that-t all you c…care about?” I stuttered out, my voice faltering through the emotion. “That Ryland is saved?”

Sain looked away from me, the action making my frustrations grow. I exhaled through my gritted teeth, hating the way my body was beginning to hurt.

I waited for him to look at me—to deny it—but he sat still, his focus on the forest outside of the windows.

“Is that what you think?” he asked toward the darkening sky. His tone was calm enough that I wasn’t even sure he had heard me. Nevertheless, I knew he had, he just wouldn’t rise to me. He wouldn’t fight for me.

It wasn’t the Drak way.

He dropped the necklace back onto the bed, the chain falling in a heap around the stone.

I fought the desire to reach out and lay it out nicely again, to berate him for treating it so haphazardly.

My anger only seemed to flare at seeing the pile of metal, at hearing his calm voice and before I could stop it, it exploded out of me again. “You only care for him!”

I didn’t like feeling this way. I needed to control it before I did something stupid. I exhaled as I pushed my anger away, pulling the positive memories I had clung to right to the forefront of my mind. I relaxed a bit as the uncontrollable hatred that had been threatening a hostile takeover left until I could only feel the pain from my father’s abandonment.

“Is this because I helped him last night?” Sain asked as he finally looked back at me, his weight shifting on the bed in his discomfort.

I didn't respond to him, I only gritted my teeth as my eyes shot fire and anger. I didn’t trust myself to speak. I didn’t want to yell, to fight. That was not what this moment was supposed to be about. I had waited for this since I was five, since the day he first left. I had seen him over the past few days, but I hadn’t been able to ask the questions that had been burning a hole in my soul for the last twelve years.

Now that I could, I couldn't find the words to gain the answers I so desperately needed. I just sat, staring at him, my pain growing until my heart began to ache.

“I helped him because he needed me, Joclyn. You almost killed him. I needed to help him.” He shook his head like he was disappointed in me. The cold look in his eyes was a steady reminder of where I stood in his life.

“And not your own daughter?” I asked, my voice hard as the anger and pain tried to break through the calm I had found.

Sain’s eyes widened at my words, as if I had offended him somehow.

“You are a Drak; you should be able to calm yourself.” His harsh words cut through me like a knife and I winced, my heart burning and tensing.

It was the same as it had been before; he knew I was a Drak. Somehow, his perfect Drak blood had made me into something else, something more. Something beyond what I even understood, and he obviously expected more from me. What that more was, though, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know if I could give him that.

“But I can’t,” I practically whispered, the pain in my chest making it hard to form words.

Sain closed his eyes and breathed deeply as he took control of his own emotions. Almost as if he was proving to me it could be done.

The look was one I had seen on his face before when he and my mother would fight, when he would calm himself. For a fleeting moment, he was that same man from my childhood; he was the same person I so desperately wanted him to be. That was before he opened his mouth and took all those memories away.

“You had Ilyan, Joclyn.” His voice was the mellow calm it always was, the calm he expected from the Drak. I cringed against it, the sound grating on me as I fought the need to yell again.

Sain reached out as if he was going to comfort me, but I shied away, pushing myself into the headboard again.

I looked at that hand in disgust, the palm littered with at least a dozen scars, the small lines of raised skin lying one over another. They almost looked like the ones I had seen on Wyn’s palm, but there were so many, they were almost unrecognizable.

“Ilyan left!” I spat, tearing my focus away from his scarred palm.

“I know.”

“And still you didn’t come.” I sat stiffly against the headboard as I whispered in pain. The soft sound taking away my desperate attempt to get him to understand.

“Some things are guided for me, Joclyn. As they are for you. The Water told me where I was needed, and I stayed there.” He spoke like I should understand, and I guess in a way he expected me to, but I couldn’t. Because I didn’t.

Ice ran though my blood, numbing me at the realization. My eyes drifted toward the wad of silver chain on the bed in my need to look anywhere other than at his loveless eyes.

I forced one stiff nod, the movement more of a dismissal than an acknowledgment of understanding.

“Thank you for this,” Sain said as he pointed to the necklace, his voice a thousand miles away in my ears.

He patted my hand once before he stood—the bed bouncing as he left me—walking right back out the door, and in a way, out of my life again.

Twelve

My chest felt tight as the door opened right after Sain had closed it, the painful heat in my face growing. I looked up in expectation, my heart jumping to see Ilyan speed-walking toward me. My magic expanded around him automatically, his moving to do the same, as our souls and magic met in the middle. While the connection I was seeking bound together, it wouldn’t be as strong as I was used to without skin contact. Not anymore, not without the Štít.

I jumped up at the thought, my legs shaking underneath me as I took the two steps toward him, his arms wrapping around me as I met him.

“Are you all right?” he asked, the true meaning in his question not lost on me. “I heard yelling.”

Yes.
I sent the lie into his mind as he held me, his grip tightening as he sensed my discomfort. His thoughts pressed right into me, begging me to tell him the truth. His need to help me was sharp, but I wouldn't tell him. I was controlling it on my own. After all, I wasn’t quite sure what to say. The hope that I had for a father had been dashed, leaving me only with distrust and a numb hole somewhere deep down.

I shook my head into Ilyan’s chest and he sighed, his hands moving over my back as his magic flowed into me.

“It is all right, mi lasko,” he whispered into my hair as his scarred hand ran over my neck, the touch a familiar, comforting calm. The tender edges of his scarred finger ran over me until they pressed into my mark, the contact warm and hot as the jolt moved through my body, my magic supercharging while Ilyan held me.

“We don’t have much time,” Ilyan whispered, his voice soft against me.

“Is he here?” I asked, my head moving away from Ilyan's chest just enough that I could make out the door behind us.

“Yes. And he is waiting for you.”

Ilyan pulled away from me, his hands wrapping softly around mine.

“Are you sure you are ready to do this?” he asked for what I was sure was the twentieth time. I knew his concerns—I was probably just as concerned as he was—but there was nothing I could do about it.

When Ilyan had made the suggestion of returning the necklace to Ryland, Ry had flipped. He had insisted on speaking with me first, certain that Ilyan was lying. I had heard his yells echo through the abbey, full words drifting toward me as I heard the pain in Ryland’s heart.

I wasn’t sure what Ilyan had done to calm Ryland down, to make him safe enough to talk to, before he had finally agreed to a meeting with a few requirements. Both of our emotions needed to be numbed and there had to be a door between us; he didn’t want us seeing the other. Not because he was going all ‘I own you’ control freak on me, but because he didn't want us to try to kill each other again.

Sadly, I knew he was right. Just the knowledge that Ryland was on the other side of the door prickled through me, my anger growing as my magic twitched in agitation.

I knew that if I saw Ryland right now, I would kill him on the spot. He wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to me, either.

I exhaled shakily and shook my head, squeezing Ilyan’s hands in mine as I answered his question. I could still feel Ilyan’s doubt—his concern for whether I was making the right choice—but I wasn’t backing down, not now.

Ilyan said nothing as he turned my hand over, placing the stone against my skin for the first time since before I had been trapped in the Tȍuha.

I inhaled sharply as the stone touched my skin, my shoulders tensing together in expectation. Part of me wanted to feel the warmth of the stone as I had for so long, the pulse of Ryland’s magic surrounding it. I had been so hesitant to touch it before, fearing the change, fearing the memories that I was sure would come along with it. However, nothing happened. The necklace was nothing except a cold, dead weight in my hand.

I stared at it before turning toward Ilyan, his focus still boring into me.

“I am going to numb your emotions with my magic, my love. You may feel nothing, or you may feel like I have drugged you. Everything should feel distanced, and you should not feel any anger.” I nodded silently at his words as his magic flooded into me, the pleasant warmth spreading through me before it congregated, swelling in the base of my neck.

“I will be here the entire time, Joclyn, ready to help if needs be.” I nodded again in understanding and then followed him to the door, his hand squeezing mine before his other made contact with the door, three hollow knocks sounding in my ears.

They were the toll of a bell, and I froze, suddenly doubting my decision, or even if I was going to be able to keep my head through this. In only a second I would hear his voice.

“I can't do this,” I moaned as I turned into Ilyan, his arms holding me against him as I let the necklace fall to the ground.

Ilyan’s tension flared as he held me, his thoughts rushing into me as his concern for me and for his brother took me off guard. Ilyan’s silent admittance of how much Ryland needed this—needed his heart—shocked me.

I had barely registered Ilyan’s thoughts before his magic flared, the warm pulse growing in my neck until the agitation left, leaving me feeling like I was floating in Ilyan’s arms.

Like I was a bubble of nothing.

Ilyan had numbed my emotions, just as he had said it would. His arms left me drifting just as a calm, loving voice I don’t think I had heard in years seeped through the door, the sound somewhat muffled by the large, wooden slab.

“Jos?”

It was Ry.

Ry.

Not the monster who had hunted me, not the boy that I had watched break apart in the Tȍuha. His voice was soft and kind, like it had come from a memory and not from his lips.

I turned in shock, the familiarity of his voice taking away my blissful ignorance all at once. Millions of memories washed over me at the sound, the feeling initially pleasant until the bad ones tried to take their place.

“He sounds the same. Like he used to,” I said, my voice almost a whisper as I stared at the darkened door in expectation.

“I took away his emotions and many of his memories that fuel his hatred toward you,” Ilyan said. “The bind is not permanent, at his request, and it will only last a few minutes. But with both your emotions bound, it will give you time to talk to him as you used to.”

I barely heard Ilyan. I only stepped forward, my free hand pressing against the door as I waited for Ryland to speak again, my heart beating heavily in needy expectation.

“Jos?” he asked again, and I inhaled sharply, my heart warming at the sound. “Are you there?”

“I'm here,” I gasped out, the sound strangled from the tension in my chest, and from the tears I hadn't realized I was shedding.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice deep as he pressed his face against the wood, probably hoping to hear better I realized and took a step closer.

“I'm fine,” I said, almost feeling like it was true and not just a forced serenity. I could still feel the pressure of Ilyan’s magic in my neck, the soft touch of his hand against mine. His magic made everything feel light, making it hard to distinguish what my real emotions were. Even though I knew the peace I felt was all forced, I didn’t care.

“I'm so sorry,” he moaned, his voice pained.

“Ry?” I asked, something in me flaring at the sound of desperation in his voice. I knew I needed to respond—to say something—but I wasn’t sure what. I was having trouble thinking through the warmth that seemed to be taking over my body. I pressed my forehead into the wood, my eyes closing at the rough and coarse texture that ground against me.

“I’m sorry I was selfish,” he said, his voice loud and rumbling through the wood. “I am sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to protect you. I don’t want to lose you, Jos,”

The deep pleading of his voice caught me off guard, turning the momentary comfort into vapor. My hand pressed into Ilyan’s as my spine stiffened, a small spike of fear winding its way through Ilyan’s oppressive magic. I heard Ryland; I understood what he was saying, but there was one very important piece of the puzzle that I wasn’t quite sure he was comprehending, one that I had almost forgotten.

Even though we were numb, even though for these few precious moments everything felt fine, it didn’t change everything. I wanted my best friend back as well, but I was afraid we were both too broken for that to ever happen.