Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(37)

With one small spark of perfectly placed magic, the damp cloth dried with a small tuft of smoke, the smell of slightly singed cotton mixing with the smell of borax soap in an oddly enjoyable bouquet.

“Beautiful,” I sighed, my eyes closing against the lingering scent of clean death. The fragrance was lovely, and I was tempted to let it grow, to let it flow over me like a cologne, but I was sure that would give me away. The smoke, the death.

The burn.

It was unfortunate I couldn’t. I was sure Joclyn would catch on too quickly.

“Joclyn, foolish girl, where are you?” I growled at the thought, my heart tensing painfully in impatience. I needed to move.

I had seen a few people gathered before the cathedral when I was on the other side of the barrier, preparing to return. I thought I had a good idea who it was, but even if I was wrong, it was a good place to start.

With one last check in the mirror, I tore from the bathroom, pushing my magic into my heart as I moved. Teeth clenched, heart pounding, I fought the need to yell, the familiar pain ripping through me like someone was trying to tear me in two. I growled, anxious for the agony to end yet also needing to restrain the power, to hide it away where Joclyn couldn’t sense it, couldn’t sense me. I didn’t need her to feel, to understand, the true power she held. I didn’t need her knowing for sure that it was me hiding underneath that cloak.

Peeking in doorways and hallways, I moved through the complex at a sprint, growing more and more eager to find her with each slap of my shoes against stone, the sound loud, like the ticking of a clock. It was agitating, something I was sure showed on my face judging by the way everyone I passed was looking at me.

My anxiety had grown into a panic when I turned the final corner to find Joclyn and Risha huddled together on the other side of the long corridor. Joclyn was leaning against Risha heavily, her body sagging so deeply I was sure she couldn’t walk very well on her own. My heart rate sped up at seeing her so impaired, but not for the fear or anxiety I had felt up to this point.

Yes, she was my daughter, and deep down, I wanted to say part of me really, truly cared for her in that way, cared for her as I cared for Dramin. As a father should. But, I didn’t.

She was nothing more than a liability to me, a liability I needed to keep under control. I had to keep her under control until Edmund disposed of her. Her and her stubborn, little head seemed to think her magic was telling her to break rules the Draks were raised to obey, every rule the Sk?íteks and Trpaslíks were taught to fear.

I was sure her magic was actually telling her all those things because what she was saying was actually true, which was why controlling her was so necessary. Discredit the queen and my step to the thrown was that much closer.

“Joclyn!” I yelled from the end of the hall, my voice terrified, even though the beat of my heart said otherwise.

Risha looked up as I yelled, relief washing over her as she held Joclyn close to her. “Oh, Sain, thank all.”

“What happened?” I yelled as I continued to move closer. “Is she okay?”

Joclyn looked up moments after Risha did, but where Risha’s expression was one of relief, Joclyn’s was one of anger and frustration. Her silver eyes flashed, her jaw tightening as she bit the inside of her mouth, something I was sure Ilyan found endearing. To me, however, the lack of self-restraint and poorly handled mortal outbursts angered me more. She was a Drak, and she needed to act like one.

“Joclyn?” I asked, trying to conceal the loathing that looking at her gave me. “Are you okay?”

“Where were you?” Her response was a snap that rebounded across the stone to me.

I knew what she was referring to and did my best to make it seem as if I was as clueless as she was to the world.

“Where was I? What are you…?” I reached my hand out to her, desperate for the skin contact I needed in order to check her magic, to regain control of her sight and know what she had seen.

She flinched away from me, and my stomach wound together.

I had obviously misread exactly how weak she was, exactly how much sight she had regained. I couldn’t be sure without touching her, but if I had to guess, considering the look on her face, the thin layer of sweat rolling down her pale skin, I would say she had seen something.

Something more than I had been force-feeding her.

Something real.

“You look terrible, Jos. Did you see something?” I swallowed, trying to stifle the panic that rose up in me as I reached toward her again, anxious for contact.

“Where were you?” she snapped again, the pale red of her anger coloring the ash white of her face.

I fought the smile that little detail gave me. She was getting angry, and I knew as well as anyone how volatile her emotions were. Combine that with the instability of her sight, and it would take very little to plunge her back into another vision. It was something that, given her power, would be dangerous, but not now, not with me here. It might be what I needed in order to gain contact. To control her.

Angering her was risky, but it might be my only chance to regain control of her sights. I had to chance it. Good thing I had already mastered this game.

“Where was I when?” I looked to Risha in question, pushing as much innocence into my voice as I could, knowing it would aggravate Joclyn more.

“Before,” Joclyn growled.

“Risha, what is she talking about?” I asked, but Risha looked just as confused as I did, her bottle green eyes darting between Joclyn and me so quickly they looked like a blur.