Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(34)

I ran my fingers over my face, my hands shaking as I tried to find the girl that I had been, but she wasn't there, not anymore. The girl I had been would never have said those things to someone she loved. She would never have tried to kill Ryland, even though he had tried to kill me.

Without thinking, I reached up and pulled the collar of my shirt down, letting the line of my scar shine through the mirror, the scar where Ryland had stabbed me. It had been months—almost a year—since that night, but the line was still white, a painful reminder of what we had become.

I pushed the thought away and grabbed the earthen mug by the sink and filled it, my magic heating and dancing through me as I took a drink of the Black Water. I exited the bathroom, only to come face to face with the destroyed bed. I hadn’t looked at it last night; I hadn’t wanted to see what I had driven Ilyan to do. I could see it now, however, and it wrung through me. The destroyed remains wound uncomfortably through my stomach. Everything had been sheared in two—comforter, feather mattress, and frame—right down the middle.

Just as we had been. Broken.

Ilyan had done this in his pain with only one thought. It made me worry for what he had done to the rest of the abbey, for why the building felt as if it were falling apart. I cringed and moved away from it, not really wanting to see what he had done.

Not wanting to see his pain.

I didn't know what to do. Should I track him down? Write him a formal apology letter? Hang a white flag from the balcony? I had never been in a situation like this before. One thing was clear; I needed to find him. I needed to apologize.

I took another drink and moved toward the balcony, hoping that I could perhaps see him from the stone outcropping, like Romeo and Juliet. I almost laughed at the thought, the ridiculousness of it catching me off guard.

I took two steps before I jumped back, Black Water splashing over my arms as my bare foot hit against something hard and cold that cut into the soft tissue of my heel.

"Ow!" I groaned as I rubbed the tender spot on my foot, my magic pushing aside feathers until I found the red ruby glinting at me from within the blanket of white that covered the floor.

No, not a ruby, I reminded myself.

My heart seemed to beat faster, my hands clenched around the mug of Black Water as I glared at the necklace. My brow furrowed as if it had somehow offended me. I guess in a way it had. I could still vividly recall Ilyan throwing it to the ground in his anger. I could see the pain on his face when I told him I thought he was lying, that I didn't need him.

My shoulders knit together at the thought, my stomach twisting uncomfortably as the guilt bubbled up aggressively.

I drained my mug and tossed it on the massacred bed as I stared at the necklace, my fingers twitching as I moved the feathers out from around it to get a better look. Even the idea of touching it made me feel a bit uncomfortable. I didn't think it was the whole “heart enclosed in a piece of diamond” thing. It was just that it had come from Ryland.

The feathers flew through the air around me as I dropped to my knees just as the door opened. I jumped at the movement, my gaze flying toward it as my heart rate picked up. My hope at seeing Ilyan mixed with the fear of being attacked until someone who I wanted to see just as much walked into the feather-covered room.

“Gee, if you were going to have a pillow fight, you could have at least called me,” Wyn said, the smile in her voice lighting up her face. I tried to return her smile, but the guilt that had been raging through me grew, and instead, I stared at her, frozen in place.

Wyn just looked at me as she leaned against the door, her body still weak as she relied on the slab of wood for support.

She looked different, and it was more than the odd, old-fashioned nightgown she wore, although the absence of bangles and a band shirt did make her look like a different person. The marks that had once lined her face and arm were now a shadow, like a marker that someone had attempted to wash away, though it didn’t quite come all the way off. Even through the weakened sag in her spine, she stood taller, looked more confident, older.

I stared at her, trying to decide if I was imagining the changes or if they were really there. She had been through as much, if not more than me, and I was certain that I looked different to her as well. It had been so long since I had seen her; twice as long for me thanks to Cail’s nightmare. Right then, however, I didn’t care if there were changes or not.

“Wyn,” I sighed as I bolted off the floor, my feet taking me to her in three giant strides before I fell into her arms, both of us falling into the wall behind her.

The feel of her arm wrapped around my back was all it took for those desperate emotions that I had been trying to ignore to come through. Regret, pain, anger. I was so emotionally drained from the last day that I couldn’t stop them.

Wyn was here. It didn’t make it all better—it didn’t take away the desperation and the fear—but somehow, it made it all seem a little more manageable.

“W-w-w-yn,” I stuttered out, my voice distorted by the staccato breathing that had taken over me.

“Geeze, girl, you under attack by Reavers or something?” Wyn asked with a laugh as I cried against her. I was aware that there was a joke there that I hadn’t gotten, but I didn’t care. I just clung to her as the ugly emotions spilled from me.

“Jos?” she asked, the light laugh dropping from her voice almost immediately. “You okay?”