Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(38)

Wyn laughed and pushed more toward me, but the attempt at playing was only halfhearted. My soul was too sore for me to focus on much else.

I gasped as the words came to mind, the realization almost so simple I felt stupid for not realizing it, and even more stupid for not having done something to stop it. Ilyan held part of my soul and I part of his.

No wonder everything hurt.





Ten



I lay with Wyn among the feathers, the gentle breeze from the windows picking them up and swirling them over our heads in a blizzard of stars and cotton down.

We hadn’t said a word for the last few minutes. We had merely lain in silence as I continually searched for Ilyan, my magic stretching as I sought out his magic, his soul. I searched for any sign that he was still alive, but I felt nothing. The thought only frightened me more, yet I kept it locked up, too scared to put words to my fears.

I exhaled deeply, my chest shaking with the threat of tears as the air left me. I had hoped the haze of sadness that lay over me would have gone, but I was still trapped underneath it.

“You are supposed to tell me this stuff, Jos,” Wyn whispered into the silence, her hand moving to wrap around mine. “I’m your best friend; we are supposed to eat ice cream, watch movies that make us cry, and talk about how dumb boys are.”

“There is no ice cream,” I said sullenly, even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to eat it if it were available.

“True, but I’m here, and I’m even better than ice cream.”

“That’s the weirdest thing you have ever said,” I replied without looking at her, my lips turning up whether I wanted them to or not.

“Yes, but it’s still true, so let’s talk about boy problems,” she said it as bright as day, but I could hear the pain behind her voice, my heart breaking at the thought that she wanted to help me with Ilyan while she had lost her mate only days before.

It didn’t help that I could see her, staring at me, waiting for an answer.

I exhaled shakily, the pain in my chest seeming to grow with each breath.

“I upset him. I said things I shouldn’t have said…” I purposefully whispered in the hope she wouldn’t be able to hear me—that I wouldn’t have to explain—but Wyn obviously wasn’t going to let me get away with that.

“Everyone does things when they are scared,” Wyn said, her voice breaking into a deep parental tone that I was not used to hearing from her. “It’s normal. It’s a defense mechanism, projecting your fears out in anger…”

I sighed and looked away from the ceiling to meet her head on, almost daring her to continue, but instead she stopped, her words trailing away to nothing.

“A defense mechanism? Who are you?” While it wouldn’t be out of character for a two hundred year old immortal to say things like that, it was out of context for my nerd chic best friend. The whole thing caught me off guard.

“I’ve watched quite a few people over the years, Jos.” She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling; obviously, it was her turn to avoid me.

“What? In the last six months?” I asked, prodding her side with my finger, causing her to jump and move away at the contact.

“Everyone has fights,” Wyn said as she carefully scooted back over to lie next to me. “It doesn’t matter if you have been together for five months or five hundred years. No relationship is perfect, and expecting it to be is setting yourself up for disaster.” Her voice rumbled through me, the sound low enough that it was more like a gentle hum in the silence of the room.

Even without the happily married parents as an example, I knew she was right; that everything was fixable. I didn’t know if it was because it was the first time something like this had ever happened to me, or because Wyn had referred to me as being in a relationship with Ilyan, but her words caused my soul to ache and yearn in a deep need I had never felt.

“What did you say to him, anyway?” Wyn whispered, her apprehension at asking making me a bit uncomfortable. “That his hair was ugly? He smells like rotten fruit?”

I laughed at the absurdity of her suggestions, a momentary joy spreading through me as I lay next her, my body settling into the cold stone and feathers as well as the warmth that Wyn radiated. I knew I couldn’t put it off; I knew I had to tell her what had happened. I had to let the words fly out into the air, let the pain and sadness go with them. At least that was my hope.

“Ilyan told Ryland that he was saving me for him, that Ry could have me. Like I’m a cow.” I said it all very fast, my face beginning to burn in threat of tears the second that first word was out. I held the ugly tears in stubbornly, however. I didn’t want to cry, not anymore. I wanted to fix what I had done, and I was fairly certain that crying wasn’t going to do that.

“Did you really think that Ilyan would let a guy who keeps trying to kill you take you?”

“No.”

“Then what are you so mad about?” Wyn asked, the smile on her face leaking through as she bounced her shoulder, playfully jostling my head around. I scowled and moved away to glare at her, wishing I could find the humor in the situation that she had, but it just wasn’t there. She was obviously missing the biggest problem, the thing that ground at my stomach.

“I’m not property, Wyn. You can’t buy and sell me.”