Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(45)

Joclyn’s eyes widened at the admission. Even she knew the story about how our father was the first to mate with someone outside of his magic.

And here I was, telling her otherwise.

No, here I was, telling her why.

“Before Ovailia?”

I hesitated as I recalled the boy’s chosen mate and her face that, at the time, was like any other. Just another woman. Just another man.

I had seen the Sk?ítek standing with the Trpaslík she was meant to be bonded to. I had seen it clearly, and yet, barely minutes later, with my father hissing in my ear, the sight changed. The static Joclyn had described took over as the sight of the woman was altered, her face shifting to one of hundreds of other women.

“I saw it, but then it changed, exactly as you said.”

The bed jostled a bit as she shifted toward me abruptly, her eyes wide as questions and thoughts swirled through that fast working mind of hers.

Staring at her, lost in thought, the reality of what Sain had done was a heavy weight on my chest, a powerful force I was having trouble breathing through.

“So, if he changed your sight, is he changing mine?” she asked from the edge of my bed, her simple question tensing through me uncomfortably.

“I have no way of knowing, but from what you have said, from how he has treated you…” I stopped, my heart tensing painfully at the reality I was still fighting.

“He is.” It was a statement filled with the downtrodden weight of one trapped in a painful reality. Her eyes were wide in fear and anger. “Now, I need to prove it.”

“And that, child, may be your hardest task to date.”

Her nose pinched as though she smelled something bad, though her eyes were dancing a bit. “Of all the tasks I have faced, Dramin, I think this is far from the hardest.” She smiled, and I couldn’t help smiling with her, regardless of something inside me screaming, something nagging at me.

It wasn’t as simple as proving Sain was debilitating her sights; it was finding the reason why. And with the fear and anger running through my memory of him, manipulating what I had seen, I had a feeling it was more than pride behind it.

That scared me more than the man in the cloak.

More than the death I faced.

“Joclyn,” I sighed, the tension of fear spreading through my back. “If he is changing what you see, what I have seen, then he has more power than we assumed. Don’t underestimate him.”

“I never have.”





Glitter and light bounced off the barrier Ilyan had placed inside the cathedral to protect the ancient space, showering Joclyn and me in the residue of an attack that had barely missed its mark.

I could still see the retina burn through the blossoms of magic spreading in colorful waves as I looked back at my best friend, unsurprised to see her standing over a hundred yards away, the same smug smile on her face.

Of course she was smug.

I had barely deflected that attack, and judging by the color and movement of the remaining magic, it would have knocked me out for a few minutes if it had made contact.

Leave it to Jos. When I said, “Don’t hold back, but don’t kill me, either,” she took me at face value. It was something I was glad of. We could match each other attack for attack, and that was a first for both of us, really.

I guessed we could always spar with Ilyan. I knew Jos did. However, I liked breaking rules, and he liked being boring.

Now, if I could stop worrying about Thom and whether he was still breathing or not or if that new boil that had appeared on his neck this morning had grown…

Ugh.

There I went again.

I needed to focus.

Obviously.

Besides, we both needed the escape, and this was better than the mass murder I had resorted to after Rosaline’s death.

I needed an escape from Thom; Jos, an escape from … well, everything: her little breakdown from a few days ago and the rumors that had magically multiplied since then.

It was upsetting.

Whatever Sain was doing was really starting to piss me off. It was a good thing I hadn’t run into him. Even though I knew Ilyan had already ripped into him, there was nothing stopping me from doing the same.

Or torturing him … That would probably be a good release, too.

After all, thanks to Sain, everyone acted like Joclyn was broken. Everyone treated her like she was somehow too weak to do anything. That wasn’t the case, however. Not really. At least, not the way I saw it.

She was actually too powerful. Her magic had grown too much, and she was having a hard time controlling it.

It was something I knew all too well. Mostly because I had experienced it.

In the beginning, controlling the fire magic was scary. I would blow things up. Heck, I had even blown myself up a few times. It was undoubtedly why Ilyan was so insistent I glue myself to her, maybe help her try to figure out what the heck was going on.

It was probably good she was my best friend, or I would be really bored of her by now.

Despite crazy-powerful magic and out of control sights or renegade rabbits or whatever she was facing, controlling it was possible. It took time and figuring out your own set of rules to make it work.

It was like 90s grunge—you had to find a way to make the loud, confusing mess work for you.

Or you could just not listen to it.

Whatever worked for you.