Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(114)

After what Sain had done, after everything he had revealed, we had no way of knowing what was underneath there.

Without another word, we all moved, our motions slow as we sifted through something that I tried in vain to convince myself was nothing more than a pile of rocks. It didn’t work. My stomach threatened to turn itself out as we moved the bodies away, the heavy, limp masses sagging under our weight, our hands slipping on blood-covered skin. Everything smelled like blood and sweat, a vile combination that amplified as we moved the bodies, the sounds of the sobs increasing as we did so.

Wyn and I grabbed a hold of a young man, moving him aside as the blonde head of a little girl came into view, her cries ricocheting loudly around the street as the frightened child emerged. Her motions were frantic as she wiggled from the death she had been trapped in, her body covered in blood, her own blood seeping from cuts littered over her body, everything red except for her eyes, the panicked orbs desperate as she reached for freedom.

With a scream of fear and relief, she broke free, wrapping herself around the first living thing she could find.

Ilyan looked out of place as the tiny child clung to him.

“Please,” the little girl sobbed, her voice strangled as she tried to talk through her tears. “Don’t make me go back. Please. He’ll hurt me. All they do is hurt me,” she cried into Ilyan as she clung to him, her hands leaving bloodied prints all over his shirt.

His face twisted with the same question I could feel strumming through me. Do you think she is safe? he asked, his voice tenser than I thought it would be given the situation.

She’s a child. It was the logical answer, but one I knew didn’t really qualify in this situation.

Not with Edmund.

He had used children before. He had hurt them, abused them.

Destroyed them.

I knew that this was no different, but with the way she cried, with the way she sobbed and panicked, I knew as well as he did that we didn’t have another choice.

Everyone knew it.

Wyn moved toward the little girl slowly, looking from Ilyan to me as if for permission before kneeling before her, her motions slow as she reached for the child. The girl jerked away in obvious fear of a slap.

“You’re okay,” Wyn soothed, her voice soft and kind. My heart opened as I saw a side of my best friend I hadn’t seen before. “We aren’t going to hurt you; I promise. We’re the good guys.”

The little girl said nothing; she looked at Wyn, her lips quivering as the tears threatened to break free again.

“My name is Wyn, and this is Ilyan and Joclyn and Ryland. What’s your name?” Wyn kept her voice calm, mellow, her motions slow.

I looked from her to Ilyan who didn’t seem at all confused by this change. Ryland, however, looked at her like she had grown a third head.

“Míra,” the girl finally answered, her voice little more than a broken sob.

“Hello, Míra. We are going to take you to our home now. We are going to help you. Will you let us do that?”

She nodded.





I appeared in Ovailia’s room without so much as a preliminary check. Thank goodness it was empty except for its owner. The girl in question sat in her chair, propped up on pillows as though someone was afraid she was made of glass.

However, I knew she was stronger than that.

“Sain!” At my appearance, she jerked, anger rumbling through the shock that was clear on her face. I guessed I was lucky she didn’t attack me. Anyone else and she would have. “What happened? What are you doing here? Did you finish the task my father sent you on? Did Míra succeed?”

“She’s alive,” I hissed, knowing full well Ovailia had no idea whom I was talking about. “They both are.” The words were loud as I hissed, the desperation that the last few minutes had trapped me in continuing to grow as I paced the room.

“Míra succeeded? So we are safe?” Even through her confusion, her magic pressed against me as mine did hers, the two powers mixing delightfully. I had been right from the start; she would make a wonderful addition.

“Why didn’t you kill her?”

“Kill Míra? What are you talking about, Sain?” Her magic withdrew as her jaw tightened. Her demeanor was stoic, even though I could see the fear in her eyes. It was the same as I had seen when she had faced her father. It was beautiful to see her look that way at me, to adhere to me to such a degree.

“Kill Wyn. I fed her to you on a platter. I watched you kill her in sight. I saw her die. Your boot moved through her skull. But her skull isn’t so much as bruised.”

“She’s alive?”

Her shock angered me more.

“Yes, she’s alive! I need her dead. They should both be dead by now.” With a growl that ripped through the room, I spun toward Ovailia, my eyes wide as I did my very best not to attack her right then, something I wasn’t sure was the right choice.

Her eyes widened as she straightened her jaw, the tension in her body making her look like she would fly off the couch and kill Wyn now if I gave the word.

It was tempting, but that wouldn’t help, not anymore. One move, one foolish move, and everything had changed. It was too late to repair the damage that was done. Now I needed to find a new hand to play.

I knew what that move need to be.

“Can you walk?” I growled at the blonde beauty before me, and her eyes narrowed in obvious irritation.