Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(105)

Between that or the roof, I thought I had chosen wisely.

With another deep drink from my mug, warmth moved over me, the deep Drak power blazing to life, morphing into an image of Ovailia, tears streaming down her face. The shadow of the sight blended over the courtyard below me, the two images intermingling uncomfortably.

My heart rate picked up at what I was seeing, the warmth Ilyan had left me with vanished with one flash of the sight. Without a second thought, I closed my eyes, opening them to the black and letting the sight take hold.

The sounds of Ovailia’s sobs moved over me, rumbling in my ears as she cried. I could see the whites of her eyes through the deep shadow she was surrounded by, panic and fear running through her as blood dripped down her face. My magic prodded the image to move as I tried to look away from what my sight had focused on, trying to find any clue as to what was happening. But it was only darkness, only the shadow of her face, only the sound of her sobs. The scent of her blood washed over me as I watched it drip down her cheek, the iron and salt smelling sweet, but I wasn’t sure why.

This wasn’t the first time my magic had shown me this moment in time. I had seen it only hours before, and even then, it was no more than her crying in a dark room. I couldn’t tell if it was past or present or even what was happening. The image wasn’t clear enough.

With a blink of my eyes, I banished the sight, storing it away with the others. My heart rate slowly decelerated as the people below me came back into focus. Even though this reality wasn’t any more relaxing than what I had seen, it at least felt more stable.

Did you see any more? Ilyan asked from somewhere below me. The simple question made it clear he had seen everything I had, something that was happening consistently since he had been pulled into that sight.

I cringed at his question, part of me desperately wishing I had at least seen something to put his mind at ease, if simply to get him to stop asking me about it.

Don’t get me wrong; Ovailia was barely one step from the bottom of the list of ‘people I would like to kill,’ but she was also my mate’s sister. I knew him well enough to understand that, even though he would never say it. I could feel him worry for her. I could feel his need to still protect her somehow. I wished I felt the same.

“It’s still dark,” I whispered to myself with the slightest hint of a growl, taking a quick drink in an effort to mask my irritation.

Will it become clearer? he asked, causing my shoulders to knit together a bit.

It might, I sighed, knowing full well my irritation was becoming more obvious. Or it could be that the room is dark.

I was snotty and I knew it, as did Ilyan. Anyone else might have backed off, but Ilyan chuckled, the whimsical sound blending into me as I relaxed again.

Point taken.

Rolling my eyes at his response, I leaned back, resting against the cold stone of the cathedral, fully intending to fall asleep and make some excuse for my disappearance later.

Drak’s don’t sleep.

Thanks for the reminder, darling, I growled.

His laugh intensified before I gently locked him out of my mind, needing some form of silence for a bit.

Silence and a steaming mug of Black Water.

“Just one more,” I said again, refilling it and hating the weird amount of guilt that moved through me.

I shouldn’t feel bad about taking a moment to myself, but I did. I vaguely remembered my mom saying something about that once … about responsibility and requirement. Stupid adult-hood. If I could see the path to end this fiasco, it would be worth it.

With a sigh, I pulled the tiny bottle of green fluid out of my pocket, the poisonous contents already transferred to another shatterproof container. After I had found it yesterday, I had known it was the key to healing Thom, but I hadn’t gotten any closer to that actually happening. My magic hadn’t given me any more clues, even with sitting between him and Wyn for about six hours last night. I got nothing. Then again, I might have been more concerned with fixing the massive hole in Wyn’s hand than harnessing whatever juju my magic had a tendency to whisper at me.

Six hours and it didn’t look any better than it had when she showed up outside the barrier. Whatever that blade had done to Wyn, it had made it impossible to close. I had a feeling we would have to find her some pretty epic gloves to cover that mess. She would never win another game of jacks in her life.

“I had a feeling I’d be running into you up here eventually.”

I jumped at the voice, Black Water flying all over me at the almighty jerk caused from hearing Ryland’s voice so close without warning.

“Ry!” I yelled, halfway between anger, frustration, and amusement. I was glad he wasn’t up to killing me yet, and hated that it was my first reaction. I hadn’t felt that need in a while.

Standing quickly, water dripping over me, I looked to the casual intruder, his eyes wide as he rushed toward me in a panic.

“Jos! Wow! I’m sorry!” I saw what he was doing no more than a second before he did, the words, the desperate plea for him to stop coming a second too late.

“Stop!” I snapped as he reached out to help, as his hand made contact with the Black Water that covered me, as he yelled out in pain.

The contact with his skin against the water pulled me into prophecy, the connection with his heart taking me right into his life, right into what he wanted to know.

The ember burn of my eyes grew darker as images of his life flashed before me: his childhood, his moments with me, the abuse he suffered in the dungeons of Imdalind. I saw it all. My heart seized at the pain and loss and confusion that dwelled in his heart, at the desperate need for something to be okay, for something in his life to be beautiful.