Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(32)

“Joclyn!” Ilyan yelled, his attempt to berate me obvious, but he couldn’t seem to get the words out. I didn’t really give him a chance.

“I don’t care about who you are. Who you used to be,” I spat, my temper continuing to fuel my words. My heart clenched up as I said it, the pulse deep and rumbling as if it had somehow forgotten how to beat.

“Tímhle sp?sobem se mnou mluvit nesmí?! Nem??e? si to dovolit. Mo?ná, ?e já jsem to udělal, ale ty nejsi mého rodu, Nedávam ti své svolení!” he yelled back, the words so quick that even if I understood them, I wasn’t sure I would have been able to make anything out.

“Speak English!” My voice cracked as it broke and fizzled into nothing, the tears washing it away.

“Learn Czech!” Ilyan spat, his magic surging as a giant crack broke through the air. I jumped at the sound, turning toward the noise just as feathers began to fall over us, the last surviving remains of the bed that Ilyan’s temper had just ripped to shreds.

I looked back to Ilyan as he pulled a silver chain from his pocket, the red ruby glinting in the dim light before he threw it to the ground, the soft tinkling of it against the stone echoing off the shards of what was left of my heart. I looked at it for a minute before turning back to Ilyan, his eyes glistening with his own tears, and my heart tightened.

I hadn’t meant to hurt him. I hadn’t meant what I had said. Any of it. I had said it in my anger, and afterwards the regret that it brought threatened to kill me.

I looked at his face and my heart shattered over the stone floor between us, a million shards of pain and regret. I opened my mouth to say something, to plead forgiveness, to take it all back. Nothing came, and Ilyan stormed out, the door slamming behind him as I flinched and fell to the ground.

The rage I had been so ignorantly holding onto left, an incomprehensible sadness taking its place. My arm twitched as my muscles constricted, a small sob escaping my lips. I didn’t want to feel this. I preferred the anger that disguised the words that Ryland had ingrained into me.

My filthy hands wound around my hair as I tried to push the emotion away, as I attempted to stop the anxiety from taking over. I pushed at it, forcing it away, until my shoulders loosened and the crippling sadness took its place. The anger that had been so strong was now only a small spark within me.

I started to cry before I was aware of it, the strong fabric of my magic pushing away from me, through walls, through the ?tít, in desperation to find him, to apologize, to calm him—anything.

I didn’t find him. He had blocked me as effectively as I had blocked him. He had left me alone.

I didn’t blame him.





Nine



I held completely still after he left. I don't think I could have moved if I tried. Everything felt dead inside of me. I just stared at the door as the tears coursed down my face, my breathing working itself into a panic. I knew I should calm down; somewhere in the back of my mind my heart screamed at me to relax, to go after him, to do something.

I couldn't make myself do any of it.

So I stood still and stiff like a rail while the desperation constricted my muscles. The anxiety that my anger had taken away came back so fast that I gasped, my back tensing.

I didn’t even try to fight the fear and desperation that Cail had ingrained in me. I let it infiltrate me like a virus; I let it destroy me. It seemed fitting, after all. I had just said the cruelest, most terrible things to someone who meant more to me than anyone else. I had hurt him. What was worse, I had known I was doing it, and I hadn’t stopped myself.

The tears kept falling as my body began to shake, my breathing swelling until a deep wail rose from my throat, the tears turning to ugly sobs. I didn't even try to wipe them away; I just let them slide down my face, reflecting the agony that was ripping me apart.

From somewhere else in the abbey, a loud scream of heartbreak and loss echoed mine. The desperation of Ilyan’s broken heart shook the walls around me. My heart tensed at the familiarity of the sound. The pain that mirrored my own. The loss, the agony.

I jumped at the deep growl that followed the crash of wood and stone, the floor rocking underneath me. Everything tightened as my anxiety began weaving its way up my spine, the tight bands of my insanity taking over. My arms moved around my stomach, my fingers clutching at my shirt as the wails that had been for Ilyan turned into my own cries of pain and sadness.

Another distant yell followed the others. Another rumble shook the abbey, and my body reacted, my feet dragging me to the only place where my fractured mind promised me I could find safety. Tears streaked down my face as I ran past the big, beautiful bed that Ilyan had destroyed and into the bathroom that had been my security so many times before.

I slid against the wall as I wedged myself between the toilet and the sink, almost sighing with relief as the furniture pressed against me, holding me in place. Holding me together.

The abbey continued to roll and groan with Ilyan’s pain and anger as I gasped for air. I had heard warning of his temper for months, and in that moment I understood what everyone had meant. What I had done to him.

The residual aroma from the bath Ilyan had drawn for me was still infused in the tile and wood of the small space. The sweet and spicy smells filled me as I breathed, taking away the hard edge of the anxiety that was cutting through me.

It didn't help the heartbreak, however. It didn’t help the tears that streamed endlessly over my face. Those kept coming, my heart clenching painfully as I wailed. The abbey rocked again as my head swam, the coming sight giving me the chance to get away and not to feel. This time I didn’t fight it. I wanted the numbing escape the sight provided.