Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(53)

“I’m fine,” I lied, sucking in air through my teeth with a sharp snap that sounded more like a smack against skin. Sain flinched at the noise, at the anger and violence that rushed through me, at the heat bubbling across my hands.

“Fine compared to what? Compared to before in Imdalind? Choose light, Wyn, because murder doesn’t really qualify—”

“What do I look like, Sain?” My voice hissed in clear warning as it had done for centuries.

He didn’t miss it; he glowered at me from where I held him against the stone of the old hallway. His lips twitched in a way so unlike him I was momentarily worried it wasn’t really him at all.

“It’s about what’s in your pocket, isn’t it?” His voice was that deep, gravely wave of knowledge it always was, and where before, in the dungeon and in Spain when I would stop and listen, I reacted this time.

“What do you know about it?” I snapped, pressing him into the wall with a thud. The sound ricocheted around the enclosed space, a loud ripple that came right back even louder.

He cringed at the impact, his face cinching together painfully. “I know what Joclyn saw a moment ago.”

I froze, Joclyn’s cries echoing around us while we glared at each other. I hadn’t expected that.

My eyes narrowed as I held him against the wall, the heat of my magic moving into him just enough I was positive the warning behind it could not be missed.

“What did she see? What did you see?” I took a step toward him without thinking, our bodies so close I was convinced he was going to have to move into the wall to avoid me.

“Where did you get the blade?” he asked smoothly as I panicked, trying to convince myself not to attack him right then and there. It would be much easier to kill him, and I wouldn’t mind killing this one.

Mommy!



I looked at him, my eyes narrowing dangerously. “Why should I tell you?”

“Because I know what’s coming.” He stared back with the same calm he always had, his face almost looking disinterested.

If it wasn’t for the way he continually looked toward the window that opened to the courtyard, as if he was expecting someone to come bursting through the barrier at any time to attack us, I would say he was positively bored. However, the way he kept looking away, the way he kept shuffling his feet, was putting me on edge.

He moved to look again before I grabbed his chin, forcing his head back to me, and his eyes widened in shock.

This conversation was moving about as fast as a tour convoy. I was running out of patience and time.

“I got it from inside of Ryland,” I finally answered, careful to keep my voice down, the words sounding like a low groan as they reverberated off the old, stone wall that we were now so close to I could see the small imperfections in the ancient faces. What I was certain were once intricate carvings were now chicken scratches.

“Ryland?” he asked as if he hadn’t heard, all signs of his previous boredom gone. “She saw what the blade is meant for. And she knows what you are planning. She wants to stop you.”

So, she saw everything, then. Great.

“I believe you are going to help me much sooner than I had planned.” His voice was dark, terrifying, and the murderer inside of me reacted accordingly: hackles up, warning lights blazing.

Slamming him into the wall again, I placed the palm of my hand against his neck, letting the fire magic inside of me heat to a temperature that was more pain than warning, but he didn’t even flinch. He looked at me with that same darkness as before.

“What are you talking about?” I growled, desperate to have a straight answer out of this man. I knew I was probably asking for too much. He was a Drak, so his life was more riddle than reality.

“You don’t want to kill her,” Sain said as if he was reading my mind, seeing into a future I couldn’t even comprehend. “You need to run as far as you can. Run and hide. Don’t let anyone stop you. And if you make it, if you run, then you can have it all. You will find what you need to succeed.”

Succeed. I could still save her.

He had given me what I wanted, but I wasn’t sure if I could trust him after everything with Jos.

But I already knew one thing: I would do anything it took to free my daughter.

The fire in my blood sparked abruptly as a new magic shot into where we were, close enough I could feel it. The power behind it was unmistakably Ilyan.

I was out of time.

“Run, Wyn!” His arms broke free of where I had held him down, his grip like a vice against my forearms as he pushed me away.

I didn’t wait; I ran, my feet fast as I continued in the direction I had been traveling, while Sain raced in the other direction, right to the place he had been glaring at, as if it had somehow offended him.

The sound of Joclyn’s cries faded to nothing as the sound of my shoes grew in my ears. The slap of rubber and cement was a punch in the chest with every impact. I knew someone would hear me, knew Ilyan would hear me. I knew he would find me.

And if he did, there was nothing I could do.

Joclyn, Sain—anyone else, for that matter—I was confident I could defeat. But Ilyan…

I would lose everything. And if what Sain had said was true, I had to stop them all.

My sole choice was to keep running, to escape this cathedral and get outside where Ilyan couldn’t reach me.