Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(59)
“I did not want to have to beat the information out of him, but if I am forced to stand in this alley much longer, I may be forced to.”
Grumbling to myself at the warning behind my father’s voice, I took a few steps away from where he stood in the shadowed alley, the sound of my heels clicking loudly in the deathly silence of the decimated city.
Narrowing my eyes toward the red-bathed street we stood next to, I chanced a quick glance away from the relative safety the alley gave us, even though I didn’t know if that was where he would emerge since we had no idea where Ilyan’s camp was.
It was one of the many reasons I didn’t like this plan.
We were too exposed, too vulnerable inside the city. Even though my father didn’t go anywhere without his guard, the powerful men already hidden by their magic as they surveyed the streets surrounding us, I didn’t feel comfortable, especially with how close Ilyan had come to capturing Sain the last time. For all I knew, my irritating brother had already gleaned information from the pathetic Drak and was standing on the rooftop right above us, watching.
Waiting.
It wouldn’t have been the first time in the last century he had done something so brazen.
I wouldn’t put it past him.
With a groan and a glare, I shifted my view, taking one quick glance at the roofline before looking back to where my father stood in the shadow of a dilapidated store overhang, the words poslední z květ? barely discernible. If it wasn’t for the rotted twigs and wilted roses, I wouldn’t have even been able to tell what it was.
“Leave it, Míra,” Father snapped, as though he was controlling a dog. I supposed, in a way, he was.
He had barely finished the warning before the little, fair-haired beauty he had made his forward guard snapped to attention, running to his side and looking very guilty for having picked up what had been a beautiful red rose.
“Sorry, master,” she grumbled, deep and fearful, obviously expecting a strike.
Smirking at her reaction, I took a step away, not really wanting to see what would come next. She was lucky my father was more concerned with Sain’s absence than her foolishness, or a strike would probably be the least she would receive.
She stood beside him like a rail, her tiny frame a foot above his waist, her hair a long sheet down past hers. If it wasn’t for the dirty rags she was still forced to wear, I would say she looked like a life-sized porcelain doll, right down to her bottle green eyes. It would be a much nicer sight when she completed her training and was allowed to wear real clothes.
“Find him, Ovailia,” Edmund growled, the depth of his voice pulling me away from the child and right to him.
My scowl deepened at the intense look he was giving me.
“He’s coming,” I spat, feigned confidence spilling over my lips as I flattened them into a tight line.
The anger in his eyes intensified as he took a step closer to me, his fingers flexing by his side. “You would do well to make sure that is not a lie, Ovailia,” he warned, the sound of his steps loud as they slapped against the wet cobbles.
He moved around me as I stood in place, my head held high while I waited for whatever was coming.
“Find him for me,” Edmund hissed in my ear as he moved a step closer. A shiver moved down my spine at the icy chill of his hand moving over my neck as he swept my hair away from my face. His scowl deepened as I peered at him from out of the corner of my eye. “I want to know definitively.”
You are trying my patience, I sent to Sain through the shard of blade that was embedded in his spine. The piece matched with the one my father had spread throughout me, the one-way communicator bubbling painfully through my blood.
I turned toward my father with a flick of my hair, my eyes meeting his dead-on, and I smiled. His own malice matched my own as I saw the pride in him grow.
“Do not worry, Father,” I cooed, an uncomfortably hot breeze moving through my hair, reacting with the residual chill of my father’s touch like ice on a sidewalk. “He is coming. You will get what you need.”
“Wonderful. See that that it happens.” His lips twitched into what I hoped was a smile before he moved away from me, back into the shadowed overhang of the flower shop.
The little girl who had gone back to her inspection of the dead and blood-soaked flowers snapped back into obedient attention.
“I would hate to discover this little game he is playing is stretching to you, as well. We still need him, Ovailia. I would hate to make you prove your loyalty to me again.”
Ice trailed down my spine at the warning. The hatred in his words moved through me so deeply I shivered, which caused his smile to expand.
“That won’t be necessary,” I cooed, keeping my voice gentle as I tried to pull his focus from my fear. He would have none of that, though; he simply smiled more. “I am yours, Father.”
“Good, because he may be my key to procuring Wynifred as my mate.” The greasy grin on his face spread wider. “And once that is done, we can attack Ilyan and his pathetic pack mules. Then we can end this.”
My smile broadened with eager anticipation as he turned back toward the girl. The way he was looking at her and the way her eyes glossed over made it obvious he was taking control through the ?tít he had placed in her heart.
Looking away, I walked back toward the end of the alley, avoiding a puddle of what looked like fresh blood that had pooled in the middle of the cobbled street.