Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(13)

“I-I didn’t… I th-thought…” I stuttered out, not knowing what to say to take away his pain. How to explain the regret I had felt after the attack had left my hands days ago, the fear that rocked through me now.

“You tried to kill him!” Thom yelled, the blue of his eyes glossing over as his face turned red.

“Thomas Krul!” Ilyan roared as he stepped toward his brother, blocking me from Thom’s rage. His magic flared while Thom cowered before him. Ilyan’s muscles rippled as he stood protectively in front of me, his arms spread wide as he shielded me.

I should have been grateful for the protection, for Ilyan’s willingness to stand up to him right then, but I couldn’t. I was too focused on Dramin’s sleeping body in his room across the abbey; on the gentle lull from all that was left of his magic, on the way he didn’t move. Thom had spoken as if Dramin was moments away from death, and now I could feel that in him.

He couldn’t die, though.

I wouldn’t let him.





Four



My sanity was slipping away, just like it had last night when I had run to Wyn.

I had run from the others without thinking, my feet pounding down the halls toward the weak spark of Dramin’s magic that called to me from the other side of the abbey. I tried to ignore the way the walls that surrounded me crumbled and warped in my subconscious, but it was no use. Thom’s anger echoed through my mind as I moved, flaring my fears, and the horrors of my insanity followed me even though I could still see reality clearly through my eyes. It had all become two parallel universes working against each other in an attempt to drive me mad.

I clenched my teeth as my heartbeat quickened, my hands running along the walls as I struggled to stay standing. I turned the last corner at full speed, my magic opening the door in front of me to a large, dark room less than a quarter of the size of Ilyan’s. The blue light of night seeped in through one of the large windows, casting everything in shadows. The room was a cluttered mess with piles of books, stacks of paper, and shelves that lined his walls. Each shelf was full of the earthen brown mugs from Imdalind, each full of Black Water. In the middle of it all, Dramin lay still on a small, white bed, the blankets pulled up to his chest.

He lay completely motionless, a ribbon of moonlight laying over him, enhancing the dark purple rings which hung like dirty hammocks under his eyes, his skin an ashen grey that matched the ancient stone of the walls. Someone had placed his hands one over the other on his chest; the same way my great-grandmother’s had been at her funeral, as I am sure my mother’s had been when they buried her. It was as if whoever had placed him there had thought him dead.

Except he wasn’t dead; I could see him breathe, feel the weak pulse of his magic that was buried deep inside him.

I had known that I had attacked him—that he was weak—but somehow, seeing him like this made it all the more real. The thoughts of coming battles and the war I was expected to win vanished in a wisp of smoke. They didn’t mean anything anymore, not as much as what I had done to Dramin.

My body folded into itself as a violent surge of regret wound through me, tensing my muscles. Ilyan’s arm wrapped around me as he came up behind me, pulling me into him. I felt Thom and Sain step into the room, but I didn’t turn to acknowledge any of them. I couldn’t look away from the steady rise and fall of Dramin’s chest, my heart pounding against my ribs until they hurt.

I did this, I hissed into Ilyan’s mind, my anger igniting the words viciously.

“You had reason,” Ilyan whispered, his voice calm despite the worry I felt run through him.

“I had-d no reas-son to at-tack my b-brother,” I stuttered, the acknowledgment that he was my brother an iron barb in my heart.

The world broke around me as I felt the hard stone floor slam against my knees. The impact ricocheted through my bones, my shame breaking free in a wail of agony and fear.

“Joclyn?” my father asked, his confused question drowned out by my howl.

“I d-d-did this. I k-killed h-him!” I cried into the floor, my voice as broken and strained as when I had been trapped, when I couldn’t remember anything. I stared at the floor, the creases between the stone turning red with blood that was not there.

“No, my love,” Ilyan whispered against me, his arms wrapping around me as he kneeled down beside me.

“I h-had-d n-no re-reason.” Tears flowed from my eyes as I tried to pull away, his arms loosening just enough so I could look at him.

“You did not mean to attack him, but you had a reason for what you did. You know you did.” Ilyan looked at me, his love and worry projecting through the deep blue of his eyes, but I didn’t see that. I only saw Dramin’s eyes when my magic had hit him, the sadness as he bid the world farewell. I only saw the magic as it flew from my hands, the last of Cail’s mind disintegrating around me.

I clenched my hands into tight fists, my long nails pushing into the skin of my palms as regret and anger filled me.

Ilyan must have felt my panic because he clutched me to him, his lips pressing against the mark on my neck as he held me. The aggressive shock wound through me in a surge of energy that took away just enough of my anxiety to give me a chance to control it.

“You are strong, my love. You can fight it,” Ilyan reminded me, his voice a whisper.

Emotions and memories ran through my mind as I fought the torment, desperate to regain the strength I knew was still hiding within me. At the same time, I danced with the urge to disappear into the insanity that had opened its arms to me.