Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(62)

“Into the cathedral?” I clarified before continuing without waiting for a response. “But we’ve been in there—”

I stopped short at the look in his eye, the danger mixed with frustration I understood all too well. I was obviously missing something.

“No, Ovailia. We need to get past his shield, past whatever he is using to block us from seeing what is really in there.”

I narrowed my eyes in question. For the first time, I doubted his plan would even be possible. We had sent so many of our men into that space, looking for any sign of Ilyan, and they had all come back saying they had seen nothing. They had walked through the old basilica, through the monks’ quarters. There was nothing there.

Such a thing could not be, yet I could tell with one look that it could.

That it was.

“M-Master?”

I turned at the voice, at the timid traitor who walked into the darkened alley, practically falling over his own feet at the sight of my father.

I would guess it was good I hadn’t told Sain who would be meeting him, if only for this show alone.

Sain stood next to the still swaying child, his frame as broken and beaten as the girl’s. They were a good pair—two beaten dogs, bred to do anything my father asked.

Seeing him like that, it was hard to imagine he was using us, that he had any other plans besides serving his master. Despite that, I had seen the sight. I knew of his lies.

I ground my teeth together at the thought, watching him, wondering, for the first time, how much of him was simply that: lies.

“Sain.” Edmund turned to him, his voice a menacing growl Sain recoiled from.

I was getting the feeling Míra had been just a warm up act, especially with what we now knew.

“Glad you could join us. We’ve been waiting.”

“If I had known…” he began as he cowered away from Edmund’s approach, trying to gain some sort of favor with the man who now towered over him. “I tried to … I mean … I was held up—”

“You were held up?” Edmund asked with a condescending lilt.

Sain collapsed to the ground in fear. I would guess I wasn’t the only one who knew where this was going. No matter what act he had been playing, he could not escape this, and he knew it.

“Was it all the smoke? All that beautiful, blue smoke?”

The trap my father had built around the old man had taken control. Sain realized it too, and he folded into himself more, knowing what was coming.

“Yes.”

“It makes me wonder, seeing as you chose this exact minute to show up. I’m convinced you could tell us…” Edmund paused, the tension so tight it gripped against my abdomen, twisting around my spine and awakening the poison inside me even further, my magic reacting to Sain’s close vicinity with a painful, caustic burn. It was all I could do not to call out.

“Yes, master?” Sain questioned obediently, his back bending even farther.

“What happened.” It was not a question, not really, and even Sain knew he could not avoid it.

His whimpers turned into cries as he collapsed to the ground, shivering under the weight of his oppression, under the fear Edmund had ground into him with two words.

“Joclyn,” he stammered, his cry matching that of the child who was now leaning against the wall, her eyes closed as if in prayer. A prayer that the solid mass would swallow her, no doubt. “Something with Joclyn.”

“What with Joclyn?” Edmund hissed at him, his hand jutting out to grab the old man by the hair, lifting him to eye-level. “Don’t think for a second you can get away with that answer.”

Sain cried out in pain, a hiss and a sob echoing around the old, stone alley. His eyes closed as Edmund moved toward him, his face so close that I was momentarily concerned he would bite him.

“Look at me,” Edmund growled, his anger increasing by the second. “What did your bastard child do?”

Sain’s eyes snapped open, his body shivering before the powerful man I was proud to claim as my own.

Poor Joclyn, child of a weakling. If Sain was my father, I would do him in. Heavens, he was my mate, and I had handed him over to my father without question.

“I … I don’t know … I didn’t see—”

“You have sight, and you didn’t see?”

“It’s broken. She broke it…”

My heels tapped against the ground as I moved toward them, hair swinging down my back as I circled them. Father looked up at me, his smile matching mine for a moment before returning to his prey.

“Would you like me to check, Father?”

“Perhaps that is not a bad idea—”

“It was Wyn!” Sain stammered, his voice breaking as my magic attached to his. “Wyn has a piece of the blade. Joclyn saw it, and Wyn attacked her.”

Edmund’s eyes shot to mine and mine to his, his expression one of shock I had never seen in him before it faded to the familiar greed.

“She has a piece of the blade? Where did she get it?” Edmund asked eagerly, his desperation rattling the man he still held.

“From R-Ryland,” Sain stammered before Edmund released him, sending him tumbling toward the ground.

Greed.

Even I felt it now.

After everything, Wynifred had made a misstep. She had done something even she should know better than to do. She had the blade, and if she had a piece of the blade, Father could control her, control the girl with the magic he prized.