Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(91)

The scrapes, the breathing, the tap of my heels, they all reverberated off the cave’s walls in a hollow rhythm that dug against me. My heartbeat increased to match the sounds, unfamiliar fear rising up in me as I second-guessed my decision to bring him here. Second-guess my decision to not kill him along with all the other Chosen children back at Ilyan’s now foiled safe house.

I probably should have after what I had seen him do, after what I had seen him become. After what he had shown me.

It wasn’t like he was trying to hide it from me in any case. He had embraced it. He had shown me a stronger man than I had ever seen before. He had shown me one of the many faces he carried in his pocket.

He had shown me who he truly was.

And all that he had done.

It was so much more than him “playing us” as my father had assumed, as I had assumed. It was so much more complicated than that. I had no idea what end game he was working toward, but one thing was clear—something as extreme as this would only end in his death, whether by my hand or my father’s. I wasn’t foolish enough to think my father would want to miss out on that opportunity. So, I had brought him here, only to second-guess myself.

My heart beat with the unfamiliar indecision, a painful force against my ribs that brought me to a stop. The turn in the cave was ahead, the one that would take us right to the hall that led to my father’s chambers where he would be waiting for us, waiting for a report.

Sain’s broken gait stopped no more than a moment after mine, the echo of our steps fading into nothing as I stood, unwilling to move.

“What are you?” I hissed into the silence, unsure if I was talking to myself or to the scapegoat behind me.

“I am a Drak.” His reply was heavy and commanding, the tempo of it much stronger than I had ever heard from him. The tap of his shoes resonated as he moved closer, a shiver moving through me at the missing sound of his false step. “I am the first of my kind. What are you?”

Without warning, his hand moved over my hair, his fingers soft as they ran down the long locks. It was a move that could have easily been confused with romance. My magic certainly pulled that way, his own connecting with mine in a move that had been nothing other than an act before, but suddenly, I wasn’t so positive.

With a shiver, I pulled away, turning to face the man who, as I had seen in the cathedral, looked neither weak nor old. He stared at me with a confidence and power that, before that moment, I would have never expected to see in him. My magic continued to pull toward him as if it could sense the change, as if it hungered for the strength he held.

My soul bristled angrily at the purposed heresy, heart pounding in my chest with all the irritation and fear I had in that moment.

It was a look that would send even my father’s most powerful servants into a cowering mess. It had definitely done Cail in on a number of occasions, but Sain stood there. He smiled, his body not so much as deviating a millimeter, the power behind his eyes rising.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he cooed, his voice a raging torrent as he moved forward, his gait strong and consistent as he closed the gap I had left between us.

My heart raced with each step he took, my mind begging me to attack him, to end this. My magic wanted anything but.

“What are you?” he parroted back to me. His face was now so close to mine all I could see was the deep green of his eyes.

The powerful mass of his magic pressed up against my own, trying to infiltrate, trying to connect with me. As I heaved from the proximity, my soul was keenly aware of the powerful change that affected him so deeply even his magic was different.

“Are you your father’s pet?” he asked.

“I am not his pet,” I barked, the anger finally plowing through the desire and painting my words with a dire warning.

“No? So you are his servant, then?” He spoke slowly as he moved closer, a smile creeping around his lips as he pushed against me, his hand hard against my hip.

“No.”

“So, you are like all the other Chosen. You are his slave.”

This time, I erupted, my anger boiling right to the surface as I rushed him. My skin heated against his in warning as I wrapped my hand around his neck, pushing him into the rough, stone wall we stood beside with a jolt of force and power.

His eyes widened in shock at the force, his smile still a grating insinuation as he looked down at me, not a drop of fear lining his face.

Clenching my teeth together in a foolish attempt to control my anger, I pressed him against the wall again, slamming his head against the stone. Again, the force didn’t even seem to bother him.

“I am not his servant,” I hissed, my anger continuing to boil due to his obvious lack of response.

“Then what are you?” His voice was strained as he heaved through the pressure I was placing on his neck, the deep rumble of his voice sounding like a laugh in my ears. “Because you seem like his slave. You do his dirty work. You take the punishments for each failure without question. You dote on him, and he what? Spits on you? Slices down that beautiful back of yours?”

Without warning, his hand snaked around me, even from where I held him against the wall. His fingers were soft as they moved under my shirt and up my spine, his magic a deep, powerful rumble as it moved into me. I sighed at the caress, my magic reacting with a powerful flare.

Attempting to focus, I stared at him, the glare fading as the Black Water within me reacted to his magic. The poison pressed against my spine as it tried to connect with the man who was the first of its power.