Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(36)

“What?”

“Never mind,” she sighed, her voice sounding oddly deep in my ears. “If I would have known it wasn't only Ilyan having a freak-out, I would have come sooner.”

“Where is Ilyan? I need to see him; I need to apologize,” I asked, my nerves prickling as I said his name.

I grabbed Wyn’s hand as I stood, ready to beg her to take me, but she didn’t even move. She only stared at me from where she sat, a giant smile plastered on her lips.

“You do love him,” she sighed, her voice practically melting around the words. “Thom said so, but I didn’t—”

“Wyn,” I groaned in interruption, really not wanting to go into this right now. “I need to see him.”

I looked down at her, my eyes pleading as I clung to her hand, desperate to go, and yet she still didn't move.

“He's not here, Jos,” Wyn said, the love-struck, teenager look on her face melting away. “He left after his little fit; probably to go destroy something else after he collapsed the cathedral on the other side of the grounds.”

“Destroy…” I began, unable to get out more than just the one word.

“Yeah, I thought it was weird. I mean, he helped to build this place back in the eleventh century, and he has spent most of his time restoring it since he purchased it in the eighteen-twenties.”

Guilt. Raw, violent, never-ending guilt slammed into me, taking my breath away. I just wanted to run away and cry and disappear, but I wasn't sure how that would help.

I slid down the wall. Specks of white fluff exploded into the air in a flurry of soft, warm snow at the abrupt movement, each feather feeling like a stab of pain in my chest. He had destroyed a chapel, and by the sound of it, it wasn't just any chapel; it had been a place that had meant something to Ilyan. It had been a treasured part of his past.

“What happened between you two?” Wyn asked as she sat down next to me, that same deeper strain still polluting her voice.

“We had a fight.” I still wasn’t sure how to categorize it.

“Oh, yes, that I heard. In fact, I think everyone heard. You went at it like a newlywed couple battling over toothpaste squeezing positions,” Wyn said lightly. The comment was innocent enough, however I could hear the implications behind it, and I blushed.

We had fought like newlyweds, like lovers, like a couple. I guess in a way that was right. In oh so many ways it was what we had become; it was what we had always been meant to be. Maybe that’s why it was only my anger, not my heart, that had said those things. That’s why it hurt so much now that he was gone.

“Everyone heard?” I asked, my voice soft.

“Oh, yes,” she said with a smile. “I wouldn’t be too worried, though. You should have heard some of the fights Talon and I had after…” The perky tone of her voice left as her voice faded to nothing, the mention of his name setting my own heart into an overactive hyperdrive.

She didn't need to explain her pain, her loss; I could feel it. I could feel it in the way her magic sagged as she spoke his name. I could sense it in the heat of his magic that lived inside of her, deep down in her belly. I desperately wanted to tell her that Talon's magic was still with her, tell her how much I hurt for her, but I didn’t know if I should.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered, not knowing if it was the right thing to say or even if she wanted to hear it.

“I felt so lost after my mother was murdered…” I began, regretting the words almost instantly. I shouldn’t have even said anything. I still didn’t really want to talk about my loss, and I was sure Wyn felt the same.

I brought my knees into my chest, wrapping my arms around them as I tried to fight the pain of the loss, the memories still a blistering branding iron against my heart. We sat still, side by side, lost in our own misery as the feathers settled while the last of daylight left.

“Edmund kept us in the old prison in Prague,” Wyn said suddenly, her words soft as she spoke toward her toes, her voice distanced as she became lost in thought. “Talon got sick… He just didn't make it out… It's okay, though. I killed my father for what he did to him. I will make Edmund pay for what he did to Talon, to Cail…”

I jumped at the sound of his name, my hands winding through my long strands of hair as the insanity battled for control.

“I'm sorry he did that to you, Jos. I wish I could have stopped it. I tried…” Her voice trailed off again as I turned to look at her. Her dark eyes widened as I looked into her pain, sure she could see the madness in mine.

Our eyes met in silence, neither knowing what to say before she broke the stare, her hands writhing in her lap, her thumb continually rubbing over a scar on her hand that I hadn't seen before.

“He hurt us, too, Jos,” she whispered, as if that made it all better, yet it didn’t. It only confused me more.

I thought I had understood all about turning the other cheek and being understanding and forgiving, though I had never assumed I could feel so much bitter hatred as I did for Cail.

“Then why do you want to avenge him? Because he was your brother?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I don’t see what’s complicated about it,” I said, my voice hard and angry as I stared her down. “He trapped me in his mind, tried to kill me. I c-can’t-t cl-lose my eyes w-with… without… without-t—”