Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(30)

I dug my nails into my palms and fought my tears, keeping my eyes trained on Ilyan.

“Joclyn, my love, that isn’t true,” he whispered, his hand moving forward to rest on my hip, but I pushed him away, not wanting to feel what I wasn’t sure I could have anymore.

“You told him you were saving me for him,” I interrupted him, the deep ripple of my words making my whisper sound like a rumble.

“Tak jsem to nemyslel.,” Ilyan mumbled, his teeth clenched as his animosity grew. I felt his emotion rush into me through the wall I had forged against him, the jolt of pain that stabbed into my stomach almost taking my breath away.

I stared at him, waiting for him to translate, but he said nothing; he only stared straight ahead, away from me, as the muscles in his jaw clenched. I had seen that look before, the way he battled over himself, over what to say. Over who to be. Now that battle raged right before me, over what he had said about me.

I stood still as I waited for him to deny it, yet nothing came. His eyes dimmed as he finally met my intense stare, the regret and the unspoken apology as deep as an affirmation to me.

“You did?” I asked, flabbergasted that he had ever said such a thing, while he remained silent. My anger prickled again at the silent acknowledgment. “When?” I asked breathlessly, the words barely tumbling out in my agonized shock.

I couldn’t move. I just waited, staring into the blue depths of his eyes, the color dark and as unforgiving as a shallow pool. I could already see the regret in them—the plea for forgiveness—but I didn’t want to hear it, not anymore.

“After you awoke, after you attacked Ryland, I didn’t know the full extent of what Edmund had done. I assumed it to be reversible—”

“You told him that he could have me?” I snapped, interrupting the lies he was trying to pass off as excuses.

“Yes.” One word reignited the rage.

It burned through me, the next words surging with my fury until they hissed out of me, rumbling through the air.

“Like I was property.”

“No, Joclyn. I never meant it in that way. It is not viewed as being that way among my kind,” he pleaded, his voice deep as the royal strain that he had very rarely used toward me tried to take control. I flinched at the tone, at the implications behind it. Whether he meant it or not, he was speaking to me just like my father had, reminding me how little I knew.

“I don’t believe you. You lied to me,” I growled under my breath, trying to ignore the life-wrenching tension that pinched at my heart. “You kissed me, you held me, you slept beside me, you ran your fingers through my hair… and all the while you planned to hand me over to the man who has done nothing but try to kill me for the past few months. Like I was some unwanted pet.”

My voice grew as I spoke, the deep rumble that had taken control before Ilyan had stopped me from killing Ryland coming back. My magic and hurt melded together until the room began to shake. The shields that Ilyan had placed over the windows vanished with the shattering pulse. With the barriers gone, the wind from outside flooded the room in a wave of swirling energy that surrounded us, the rain I had wanted to feel against my skin gone now.

“No, Joclyn, that was never my intention. I told him such things to calm him, but when I spoke to you, I realized that the love you two shared was gone, forever broken because of my father.”

I stared into him. I wanted to believe him, desperately. I couldn’t, though; I couldn’t see beyond what Ilyan had told Ryland, not why or with what intention. Just the simple fact that he had said it. I was blinded by my heartbreak, letting it guide me, no matter how hard my better judgment cried for me to stop.

“Why did you kiss me?” I asked, careful to keep my breathing even.

“Because I am in love with you. You. I fell in love with you when I held you broken and screaming, when I dried your tears, and as I watched your strength grow. I kissed you because my soul, my heart, and every part of me is yours,” Ilyan whispered, his hands stretching toward me as he tried to pull me into him the way he had always done.

My heart faltered at seeing his hands there—at the comfort I knew he could give me—knowing that I could just step into his arms and let them wrap around me; yet I couldn’t move. As much as my soul berated me for being ridiculous, I couldn’t see beyond the pain and the lies that my mind had formed.

“Because you own me!” I spat. My heart tightened, and I stepped away from him, not wanting to give in, to let him win. To let him think that what he had done was okay. “I am not property! I don’t need to be owned. I don’t need someone else to be strong. I am strong on my own.”

“I know, my love. I see that more than any other.” Ilyan’s voice was soft, the serenity of it fueling the calm that swelled beneath my anger; but it wasn’t enough to let it break through.

“Then why won’t you leave me alone?”

“Because I am your protector. I was born to keep you safe, to help you find strength enough to fight the Trpaslíks that surround us.”

“What if I don’t want that?” I snapped, my fists clenching at my sides as I yelled at him. “I don’t need someone to save me, to own me.”

“No one owns you, mi lasko, least of all me. Ryland only thinks that way because of how he has been raised.” Ilyan took another step toward me as he spoke, his eyes indulgent.