Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(71)

When my phone rang again, I answered it without hesitation, a smile quickly widening on my face.

“She went into the cathedral—”

“Without you?”

I cringed at the volume of my father’s anger yet wouldn’t let it deter me. She might be gone, but I wasn’t far behind.

“Don’t worry; I’ll get her back. She showed me right where to go.”

I could almost hear his smile through the airwaves. “Then go.”

He didn’t wait and neither did I. With one sharp click, the phones disconnected, and I took off into the air, soaring right for the white line Wynifred had disclosed to me, my shield tight as I pushed through the tiny opening and into an asylum that we never would have found otherwise.

If only I had been prepared for what that meant…

The second I came in contact with the barrier, it was as though I had been hit by a truck, flattened by the broadside of its heavy metal siding. I couldn’t breathe. The strain was so great I wondered if it was nothing more than a stutter gone wrong.

I tried to gasp for breath, fear growing when it did not come. The weight increased until I was forced out to the other side like an egg, my body hurtling end over end toward the ground.

With a snap of fright, I checked my shield, verifying my body was shrouded, only to stare at the spinning world, the ground moving too close for me to truly be able to land safely.

In a rush of fear, my magic pulsed, sending me back into the air, my hair flying as I landed on the roof of the familiar bell tower in what I hoped to be silence, even though it was anything but graceful.

Thank goodness no one had seen.

Regretting my choice in shoes, I looked over the packed courtyard below me, hunting for any sign of Wyn yet knowing she would be long gone.

Men, women, and even a few children moved through the open square like ants, their movements disjointed, panicked even. Fingers were pointed toward the building that still gushed smoke from the massive hole in the roof, something I was sure was a recent addition.

It was pathetic. If one simple explosion could work them up to that level of hysteria, how could they even hope to master themselves during a war?

I didn’t even try to restrain the laugh at the thought, the sound flowing over the open space like the bell of the tower I sat in. No one noticed; they only continued their dance.

Now I needed to keep it that way.

One jump and I soared down into the cavalcade, my wind gentle enough that, unless someone was really paying attention, they wouldn’t even notice anything beyond a light breeze. Careful to keep my shoes silent this time, I straightened, the tense exhilaration of what was to come heightening through me. My sly smile would have easily given me away if anyone could see.

“I knew he was right. No one should act like that…”

“But if she can’t even control her magic…”

“Did you hear what Ilyan…?”

“I saw the smoke. That was no ordinary magic.”

Snippets of conversation bounced around me as I moved toward the place I had agreed to meet Sain. The frightened voices pulled me right into what had happened, right into the possibilities of what I had walked into. Listening to them, watching their mannerisms, it didn’t take a fool to put things together. All Sain had said was that it was “something with Joclyn,” but that something was a deranged interlude to much darker things.

Wonderful.

My soul danced at the news, a smile spreading over my face as I leaned against the wall, taking in as much information as I could, each word a vital clue toward my father’s plan.

Suddenly, it was very clear I was going to take much more from this trip than the destruction of Ilyan’s army.

In a way, I was sad I had missed whatever show Joclyn had put on.

Crazy Queen Joclyn.

That was the single downside to all of this.

Shaking my hair down my back with the thought, I lifted my chin with excitement just as Sain sidled up beside me so closely I was afraid he would run into me.

The fool.

“Watch where you step or lose your feet,” I warned with a hiss, my voice clear even though I was still hidden from view.

Sain jumped at the warning, the motion slow and controlled, before he took a step away from me, toward one of Ilyan’s men who was making a beeline for him.

“Stay close,” he growled at me as he stepped toward the man, his demeanor changing so abruptly from what I had seen less than half an hour ago that I did a double take, staring at him in disbelief.

He stood tall, his eyes wide, his jaw set.

When he had stood before my father and me, he had been a weakling, a pathetic bug that wasn’t even worth squishing. Right then, he was powerful, commanding. He was something I had never seen before.

My heart thumped painfully as I watched him, my magic stretching toward him in a type of needy hunger I had felt days ago when we had stood in the snow, and he had talked about Joclyn’s disposability.

This was the same man, but not the one my father had seen.

I stared, trying to understand exactly who this man was and how deep whatever game he was playing went.

“Sain!” the man called as he reached him, his voice eager as several others turned toward the exchange. “The queen, is she all right? Have you heard anything?”

Sain shook his head as if he was about to deliver the news of a death, his eyes downcast, even though his shoulders still stayed straight and taut.