Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(48)

I heard Rosaline scream in my head, heard Joclyn yell in panicked fear, but I couldn’t think. I was stuck in a cage with the whimpers and cries of my child, and I forgot what I was doing.

Suddenly, it was just another job.

It was just another body to claim.

Another beating heart to deliver to my master.

Heart thundering in eagerness, I burst from the shield that had become a prison, my hand raised in preparation for attack, turning to face the woman I had attacked so ruthlessly in one swift motion, the floor beneath her shifting as it swallowed her whole.

“Wyn!” Her voice was a scream of terror that ran through me with a trembling fear that brought a flood of everything right back to me.

No!

No body, no war, no blood.

The game.

It was just a game.

“No!” I yelled as the voice left, the frightening reality implanting itself within me. “No,” I said again, my magic withdrawing back into me in one swift pull.

The stones of the floor solidified themselves in an instant. Her scream faded into the mirror of my own heaving breath, our eyes meeting in a desperate look of fear and panic so heavy I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even know what to say.

How was I going to get myself out of this one?

It was like I was stuck in a bad Michael Jackson music video.

“Wyn?” Her voice sounded tentative from where she stood. I didn’t blame her for her fear. “Are you okay?”

I glared at her, my jaw locked as the battle continued inside of me. I had attacked her, and she was asking me if I was okay.

Thankfully my little girl’s voice had taken a break. It made it easier to think. I wished the mass murdering side of me would be a little bit quieter. I didn’t want to kill this one.

“What do you mean?” I was defensive, too defensive. I cringed against the sound in my voice, but I knew I couldn’t take it back.

Calm down, Wyn, I told myself. You are starting to act like one of those deranged puppets parents make their kids watch on TV.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” she began, her voice shaking, “but I am pretty sure you were trying to kill me for a second … and you were crying.”

To anyone else, the combination might be seen as normal. In a way, it was for me—well, the killing people part. Strangely, the crying was more out of the ordinary. It was an odd reality when she was more alarmed by that than the “almost murder” I had “almost committed.”

“I’m fine.” My voice was a growl, so unlike the personality she knew from me—hell, unlike both my personalities. I knew she wouldn’t believe me.

She didn’t.

“Wyn,” she prompted, “you can tell me.”

Yeah right, not if I was going to save my daughter.

“Please, Wyn.” She twisted her hands around one another as she always did when she was getting uncomfortable.

I wanted to say she was reacting to me, that her demons where plaguing her, but not with the way she was looking at me, with that sympathy and understanding she always had. The combination was terrifying.

I wanted to spill the beans about everything that had happened, everything I was feeling: about the blade and Thom and how scared I was to lose him, about Talon and how he still came into my dreams every night, about Rosaline’s voice echoing in my head.

I wanted to, yet no matter how crazy that blade might be making me, I needed it to release Rosaline’s soul, to release Cail’s. I wouldn’t be able to do that if they knew I had it, if they knew what it was doing to me and how volatile it had made me. I wouldn’t be able to save my baby if they took the blade away, if I didn’t get a chance to find the others.

Besides, it wasn’t my daughter beside me, not really. It was just her memory. I could handle it.

I had handled it this long.

“I’m fine, Jos. Please,” I said as I took a step toward her, unsurprised when she fought the need to take a step away. She still didn’t trust me. “I think I got nervous, what with the impending war and everything.” I added a shrug and a smile.

Although it seemed to please her, she was still tense, her silver eyes continuing to study me far too closely.

“You’re not the only one,” she finally groaned.

My shoulders loosened a bit, though the knot in my stomach stayed firmly in place.

We stared at each other, making it clear we didn’t really believe one another, but neither of us were going to say anything further, either. We both had too many secrets at this point.

“I think I’ll take fake wars to actual ones any day,” I tried again, taking a few tentative steps toward her, glad when she didn’t shrink away. I really wished I had something better to say, but “I’m sorry I almost killed you” didn’t seem right.

“But then, we may be looking at a war once Ilyan sees what we did to the floor.” I sighed as I moved to stand beside her, my shoulders dropping dejectedly as I caught sight of the pile of rubble she was trapped in, the beautiful floor smashed to bits.

I was so dead.

“I’m not accepting responsibility for this,” Jos moaned from beside me.

“That’s fair,” I groaned dejectedly. It was. I couldn’t wait for Ilyan to unveil that little temper tantrum unless… “Maybe we can blame it on Edmund. Then Ilyan could be so mad at him he would just explode from the burden of Ilyan’s temper.”