Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(44)

Sain’s eyes widened at my words, as if I had offended him somehow.

“You are a Drak; you should be able to calm yourself.” His harsh words cut through me like a knife and I winced, my heart burning and tensing.

It was the same as it had been before; he knew I was a Drak. Somehow, his perfect Drak blood had made me into something else, something more. Something beyond what I even understood, and he obviously expected more from me. What that more was, though, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know if I could give him that.

“But I can’t,” I practically whispered, the pain in my chest making it hard to form words.

Sain closed his eyes and breathed deeply as he took control of his own emotions. Almost as if he was proving to me it could be done.

The look was one I had seen on his face before when he and my mother would fight, when he would calm himself. For a fleeting moment, he was that same man from my childhood; he was the same person I so desperately wanted him to be. That was before he opened his mouth and took all those memories away.

“You had Ilyan, Joclyn.” His voice was the mellow calm it always was, the calm he expected from the Drak. I cringed against it, the sound grating on me as I fought the need to yell again.

Sain reached out as if he was going to comfort me, but I shied away, pushing myself into the headboard again.

I looked at that hand in disgust, the palm littered with at least a dozen scars, the small lines of raised skin lying one over another. They almost looked like the ones I had seen on Wyn’s palm, but there were so many, they were almost unrecognizable.

“Ilyan left!” I spat, tearing my focus away from his scarred palm.

“I know.”

“And still you didn’t come.” I sat stiffly against the headboard as I whispered in pain. The soft sound taking away my desperate attempt to get him to understand.

“Some things are guided for me, Joclyn. As they are for you. The Water told me where I was needed, and I stayed there.” He spoke like I should understand, and I guess in a way he expected me to, but I couldn’t. Because I didn’t.

Ice ran though my blood, numbing me at the realization. My eyes drifted toward the wad of silver chain on the bed in my need to look anywhere other than at his loveless eyes.

I forced one stiff nod, the movement more of a dismissal than an acknowledgment of understanding.

“Thank you for this,” Sain said as he pointed to the necklace, his voice a thousand miles away in my ears.

He patted my hand once before he stood—the bed bouncing as he left me—walking right back out the door, and in a way, out of my life again.





Twelve



My chest felt tight as the door opened right after Sain had closed it, the painful heat in my face growing. I looked up in expectation, my heart jumping to see Ilyan speed-walking toward me. My magic expanded around him automatically, his moving to do the same, as our souls and magic met in the middle. While the connection I was seeking bound together, it wouldn’t be as strong as I was used to without skin contact. Not anymore, not without the ?tít.

I jumped up at the thought, my legs shaking underneath me as I took the two steps toward him, his arms wrapping around me as I met him.

“Are you all right?” he asked, the true meaning in his question not lost on me. “I heard yelling.”

Yes. I sent the lie into his mind as he held me, his grip tightening as he sensed my discomfort. His thoughts pressed right into me, begging me to tell him the truth. His need to help me was sharp, but I wouldn't tell him. I was controlling it on my own. After all, I wasn’t quite sure what to say. The hope that I had for a father had been dashed, leaving me only with distrust and a numb hole somewhere deep down.

I shook my head into Ilyan’s chest and he sighed, his hands moving over my back as his magic flowed into me.

“It is all right, mi lasko,” he whispered into my hair as his scarred hand ran over my neck, the touch a familiar, comforting calm. The tender edges of his scarred finger ran over me until they pressed into my mark, the contact warm and hot as the jolt moved through my body, my magic supercharging while Ilyan held me.

“We don’t have much time,” Ilyan whispered, his voice soft against me.

“Is he here?” I asked, my head moving away from Ilyan's chest just enough that I could make out the door behind us.

“Yes. And he is waiting for you.”

Ilyan pulled away from me, his hands wrapping softly around mine.

“Are you sure you are ready to do this?” he asked for what I was sure was the twentieth time. I knew his concerns—I was probably just as concerned as he was—but there was nothing I could do about it.

When Ilyan had made the suggestion of returning the necklace to Ryland, Ry had flipped. He had insisted on speaking with me first, certain that Ilyan was lying. I had heard his yells echo through the abbey, full words drifting toward me as I heard the pain in Ryland’s heart.

I wasn’t sure what Ilyan had done to calm Ryland down, to make him safe enough to talk to, before he had finally agreed to a meeting with a few requirements. Both of our emotions needed to be numbed and there had to be a door between us; he didn’t want us seeing the other. Not because he was going all ‘I own you’ control freak on me, but because he didn't want us to try to kill each other again.

Sadly, I knew he was right. Just the knowledge that Ryland was on the other side of the door prickled through me, my anger growing as my magic twitched in agitation.