Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(107)

“We need to take this off.” Ilyan didn’t wait for me to answer; he just balled the thick fabric as he lifted the heavy hoodie over my head, his movements careful as he worked to keep my shirt in place and the braid untouched.

I closed my eyes as the fabric passed overhead, only opening them at the touch of Ilyan’s hand against my shoulder, the sound of fabric against stone as he dropped the hoodie to the ground.

Ilyan wasn’t looking at me, though; his eyes were focused on the massive red stain on the shirt. The glistening patches of my own blood appearing twice as bad in the dim light of the cave. Ilyan’s hands dragged down my bare arms as he kneeled before me again, his hands squeezing mine before he let me go, his eyes focused intently on my abdomen.

He lifted my shirt as his hands brushed against my stomach, revealing the layer of blood that had dried against me.

The warmth of his breath ran over me as his fingers moved over my abdomen, his chest tight in worry. He said nothing as he grabbed the hoodie off the ground, pressing it against my bare stomach as his magic surged through the fabric. The fabric warmed against my skin as he pulled the water out of the air and into it, giving him a chance to clean the blood that covered me.

His movements were slow and gentle as he cleaned me until all that was left was a long, raised brown scar the stretched over my navel and down toward my hipbone, right where the Trpaslík’s blade had cut through me.

Ilyan sucked in a pained breath as he saw the ugly scar, his fingertips tracing along the long, dark line as I held my breath. His touch was soft as his heartbeat faltered, his regret flooding into me. I could see it in his eyes and hear the thoughts of failure as my stomach tightened.

I reached forward and ran my hand over the soft feathers of his hair before he looked up to me, his eyes wide as he pled for forgiveness.

“You didn’t fail me, Ilyan,” I whispered. “You healed me; you got me out alive. This is not failure.”

He said nothing as he looked at me before he closed his eyes, his regret melting away. He looked down, leaning forward until his lips pressed against the long, ugly scar that I knew I would always have. His magic surged through me at the touch, my stomach tightening as the intimate touch jolted through me.

His lips lingered as his magic flowed to check for any internal injuries he might have missed. I moved down carefully to kneel in front of him, my knees digging into the hard stone as I met him eye to eye in the darkness of the cave.

I could still see the regret, feel his worry. It hurt that I couldn’t take away that feeling of failure. It was more than just my injury that was bothering me, though; it was failure of another kind.

“I will kill him, Ilyan,” I whispered, my voice hard with the conviction I knew he shared. “I know the sight has changed, but I will find a way.”

“I know you will. I will fight alongside you,” he said, his voice soft as his hand moved over my shoulder and down to my elbow. “Let’s just hope we can get to Prague before the Vil?s do too much damage and the city is lost.”

After everything that had happened, I had almost forgotten about everything that I had seen in the sight that I had shared with Sain before Dramin had awakened. Just hearing Ilyan speak about it—feeling his worry for his home—brought the images into my mind along with Sain’s promise that the sight had already happened.

But it hadn’t already happened. Dramin had told me that past sights were always dimmed, the pictures and voices echoed. These were clear as day. What was more, I had been in them. I had been running into the rock wall; I had been sitting on the rooftop.

I don’t know why Sain would have said they had already happened; why he would have lied. I had watched as the sky rained with Vil?s. I had seen a small child screaming amongst the rubble...

“I don’t think that attack has begun,” I said, my voice deep as my Drak blood flared.

Ilyan’s eyes widened as I spoke, his confusion clear as the grip against my elbow increased. My magic ignited right along his, the uncertainty rumbling through me.

“What are you saying?” Ilyan asked, his voice deep.

I swallowed, my eyes darting away as I tried to figure out what to say to him. I wasn’t quite sure if explaining the way the images weren’t dimmed would be clear enough. Besides, it was more than just the images; it was a feeling. Something that my blood promised was still to come.

“In my sight, it felt like it was coming,” I explained, hoping it was enough.

It was. Ilyan’s jaw clenched, a feral growl rumbling through his chest as he understood.

“You mean we could be heading into a trap?”

He said the words and my blood sped up as if in answer. We were walking into a trap. Somehow, the sights had been broken even before we had run into the forest, perhaps even before I had healed Dramin. Something had changed and the fate of our future had been manipulated. I wasn’t sure how, but I knew one thing: Nothing was guaranteed anymore.

“Yes,” I gasped as I reached toward him, my fingers winding around the fabric of his shirt in desperation.

“But you had that sight before the battle.”

“I know,” I gasped. “And the caves? I saw those after I healed Wyn. Before I even healed Dramin; before our bonding. Why am I seeing things before the sight was broken; things that happen after I was supposed to die?”

“I don’t know. Sain will know.”