Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(50)

I looked up at her and narrowed my eyes, confusion setting in. I did not understand where this snappy attitude was coming from, or even why she was talking to him like this. Wyn had always been so polite, so formal, to Ilyan. She had even told me on several occasions that they didn’t get along because she was scared of him.

I looked to her, almost shocked to see her standing differently, her face a little more ruffled than fun loving. The change caught me off guard, almost like I was looking at someone else. I stretched my magic toward her, suddenly worried that it wasn’t her, but the magic was the same—if not a little warmer than it had been a few minutes before.

“Wynifred,” Ilyan said, his voice shifting into the deep, commanding tone he usually kept hidden. “What are you doing in my chamber?”

“I have something I need to talk to you about.”

“By invading my quarters before dawn? You should know better. We have a meeting scheduled for noon; it can wait until then, I am sure.” Ilyan’s voice was hard, the disappointment startling me. I had never heard him speak to someone so harshly before.

Ilyan sat up swiftly, his arms still tight around me as he kept me in his lap, obviously intent to keep me there. “I had no idea you and I were already back on such loose terms.”

“You know you missed me, My Lord,” she cooed, the honey in her voice increasing, if that was possible. “You can blame Jos for letting me in.”

I looked up at her and narrowed my eyes at her, thoroughly lost now. I had thought it weird before, but this behavior was downright alarming. I held onto Ilyan tighter, hating how her voice made me feel almost possessive of him. My eyes narrowed at her as I demanded an explanation in silence. Her eyes met mine, and she wilted, her face changing as our eyes met, the lines softening as she looked at me with the same fear she had a minute before.

The Wyn I knew came to life before me, just as I felt Talon’s magic flare inside of her. My heart clenched at the realization, the understanding of what was going on. She was talking to Ilyan, her mate’s best friend, someone who must be reminding her of what she had lost. I could understand that pain; perhaps not to that extent, but I understood. The heartbreak was fueling her frustrations, her pain.

“It is not Joclyn that I am speaking to; it is you, and you would do well to remember the respect that I demand.” His voice was stiff as his arms tightened around me. His grip was firm, as if he was afraid I was going to leave, and judging by the amount of embarrassment in my body, it was a good presumption.

“Yes, My Lord,” Wyn said, her voice stiff and uncomfortable as she curtseyed.

“Good, but for now, why don’t you wait outside for me.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Wyn said, the sass that had lined her voice before vanishing into a deep desperation, “I think Edmund has arrived.”

Before, I could tell she wasn’t being honest with me, and now I knew why. The simple admission was like a slap to the face. The air left my chest as the fear that I had been ignoring engulfed me in a painful pressure that fought its way out. Ilyan became rigid beneath me, the tension in his arms growing as he reacted to the news of his father’s possible arrival.

Ilyan’s sudden tension over Edmund shocked me. I had watched Ilyan mock his father as well as fight him in Santa Fe, yet the feeling that moved from him to me now was anything but eagerness to continue that fight.

It wasn’t because he was scared of fighting him, however. It was because he was scared of losing me.

I didn’t need the flash of Ilyan’s memory to see that heartbreaking moment of the sight, my limp body in Ilyan’s arms. I pushed it away as he did, his muscles tightening.

“How do you know?” Ilyan’s voice was a tight line, his eyes narrowing toward her. Even though I had felt his fear, I saw no sign of it, only the powerful determination he always had.

“The magic has changed, My Lord; the strength of it has grown. Although, I can't pinpoint why.”

Ilyan pressed me against him once, his lips moving against my hair—unseen by Wyn—before he stood, the strength of our connection slipping as our skin lost contact.

“Where?” His voice rumbled as he pulled a shirt out of the bureau next to the bed, the muscles in his back rippling as he pulled it on, the tension in his body growing.

“To the east, mostly, but it's spreading,” Wyn said, her voice confident until Ilyan turned around to face her, her usual apprehension around him returning.

“How fast?” Ilyan took a step forward as he spoke, his tall frame towering over Wyn's small one, and she recoiled, stepping back a bit.

“Fast.”

Ilyan left Wyn cowering in the middle of the room as he moved toward the large map that still sat on the table near the window. He glanced at it briefly before looking up to me, his eyes seeming to glow as his thoughts flowed through the weak connection between us. I cringed as they hurtled into my mind, the distorted worries and fears mixing together until they came through.

You want me to find Cail? Cail is dead. Isn’t he? I almost screamed the words into his mind, my agitation almost blinding me.

That thought had sent my emotions tumbling into the deep abyss, my fingers clenched into the bed. My body began to shake as I stared at him, trying to focus on him, but it didn’t help. The walls that surrounded Ilyan had already begun to bleed red, and my breathing picked up as it clouded my vision.