Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(41)
“I can’t believe he would do that,” Ryland muttered from where he leaned against the wall. “He has the same goals as we do; why would he work for someone he wants to kill just as badly?”
Ilyan looked to Ryland with a snap, his eyes narrowing as he took a slow step forward. “But do you know that he does, Ryland? I know what you two have been through. I know you have become very close to him. Regardless, we have to keep every possibility open, and his behavior with Joclyn as of late, with our queen, has been highly inexcusable.”
Ryland cringed a bit as Ilyan spoke, his bulldog stance sagging as the strength of Ilyan’s words sunk in.
“No, I will give you that,” Ryland sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I find it hard to believe he would be working with Edmund after everything he put him through.”
Even Ilyan remained silent. It was obvious Ryland had a point.
Grumbles and groans and whispered agreements moved through the small group as instances and possibilities and facts about Sain were thrown around. Everyone was trying to find their own answer. I wished I could feel as comfortable as easily as Ilyan and Joclyn seemed to be with accepting that my father—the first of our kind—would work with the man who had called the order for the entire destruction of our race. Yes, he had been unruly recently, but like Ryland, I couldn’t accept this.
“What makes you think it is Sain?”
Ilyan turned toward me at the question, my shoulders tensing from the dangerous look in his eyes. The mug in my hands was so warm I knew I needed to drink it soon, although part of me was too scared to do it. I was beginning to understand how the others felt when they sought sight. Black Water burned. If it didn’t taste so good, it might have been easier to avoid it.
“Joclyn saw him within a sight in the cloak, running through the city. She’s seen the same figure a few times. After what we saw this morning—”
“She saw him in sight? Or she saw him in real life?” Risha interrupted, her voice quivering uncharacteristically.
“What are you asking?” Joclyn snapped, her face draining of color.
I straightened, a tense knot forming in my spine as I looked between the two women, obviously missing something.
“Well, after this morning, I feel it’s necessary to look at other possibilities.”
Joclyn cringed, her shoulders pulling into her neck, her face wrinkling in the way it always did before she erupted at our father. Except, this time it wasn’t father; it was Risha.
Ilyan’s second.
Joclyn’s second.
“Joclyn?” I whispered as I leaned toward her, the mug all but forgotten. “Are you okay, my dear?” Placing my hand on her knee as I always did, I pulled her attention away from the beautiful Sk?ítek who looked like she had walked into a men’s locker room.
Joclyn looked at me, her eyes pained and sad. The wrinkles in her brow intensified as her eyes shined with tears. That was new.
“Wait. What happened this morning? Lightning bolts erupt out of her head or something?” Wyn asked, putting voice to the question that, thanks to Joclyn’s heartbroken expression, had been about to leave my lips.
“She had a sight,” Ryland provided, moving away from the wall, his hand running through his shaggy hair again. “She couldn’t tell the sight from reality.”
I froze; everyone did. Everyone but Ilyan, who moved back to Joclyn’s side, his arm draping over her shoulders, his chest expanding in the familiar protective stance I had seen many times before: in the cave, when Joclyn was trapped within Cail’s mind; in Rioseco, when Sain first returned after I had awoken. It was a role he was born to play.
I had also seen her do the same. I had seen Joclyn protect Ilyan when he was unconscious in Italy.
Even right then, Ilyan stood beside her, strong, defiant, while she sat beside him, her eyes narrowed, brow hard, willing to do the same for him.
It was magnificent, this pair before me, their love and adoration so breathtaking even Ryland was lost to it, staring at them from where he stood, his lip twitching into a smile. If only the beauty could have taken away the truth…
I was not confident anyone else realized it, but this sight that distorted her reality was an even worse omen than some cloaked man betraying us all.
“She couldn’t tell…?” Wyn began, her eyes drifting in obvious worry to her best friend.
Joclyn said nothing, and Wyn didn’t pry, even though I could tell she wanted to.
“And that makes her untrustworthy?” Ilyan asked of Risha, the power in his voice pressing against her as she cowered in respect.
Her loyalty to her king was clear, even though you could tell something was still nagging at her.
“Not to me, My Lord,” she clarified, her shoulders heaving as she stepped back toward Ilyan, her jaw clenched tightly. “But to others … There are things that have been said, things I have heard.”
“You mean the rumors?” Wyn asked, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed as she sat up a little straighter, staring in fear at what had begun to unfold before us. “Everyone’s heard them; that doesn’t mean they are true. For all we know, it’s some jealous Chosen who is mad they can’t ‘see’ like Jos can.”
It was the reasoning we had always used. What was said, what was being spread around, was so vague there wasn’t any basis to think there was any concern, any basis in fact. Right then, I wasn’t so sure.