Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(69)

“The wells of Imdalind will follow you, and bring you peace in life or in death,” Ilyan said, his voice strangely sad as the map rolled up in front of us without anyone so much as touching it.

“And to you as well, My Lord, may the wells of Imdalind follow you,” everyone said in a whisper, their voices blending together in deep respect.

I looked away from the bare table top to Ilyan just as his hand moved up my back to skim over my bare neck.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice soft as he whispered to me, the powerful look in his eyes softening.

“You have been asking that a lot lately,” I said, the humor I had hoped to convey swallowed up by nerves.

Ilyan’s lip twitched at my attempt to break the strain in the room, his concern burning through me while I tried to find words, tried to come up with something—anything—to tell him, for once wishing he could sense my thoughts as I could his.

Because nothing was coming.

We stared at each other, somehow knowing that was enough. That just standing near each other was enough. And even though nothing felt okay, somehow everything was.

“My Lord?” Sain said from somewhere beside me.

I heard Ilyan’s thoughts shift at the call, his features stiffening as the king in him came to life so quickly that I knew he wouldn’t be able to ignore it.

“I will be right back,” he said, his promise a quick whisper into my soul before he left me.

I stood still, staring into nothing before a slim arm snaked through mine, Wyn’s familiar smile meeting me as I jumped.

“Come on, Jos,” Wyn said, a smile on her face even though the situation really could call for anything other than that. “Let’s go have a final drink before we all plunge into certain death tomorrow.”

I cringed at her words. I could tell they were meant in jest, however, I was sure she had no idea of what they really meant to me. Of how true they really were.

She pulled me away from the table and dragged me—half-tripping, half-walking—across the room. I fought against her lead, my eyes darting to where Ilyan stood with his hands wrapped around Ryland’s as he mumbled something I couldn’t hear.

“Don’t worry about your boyfriend.” My head snapped to her at the term, the familiarity of it almost catching me off guard, but she only smiled with that wide smile of hers, making it clear she had chosen that word on purpose. “He will catch up, I promise. If anything, this will get him out of the room quicker.” She laughed at her own joke.

I let myself fall in step beside her as we weaved our way through the disheveled furniture and out into the hall. The door closed behind us with a bang that sounded like a cannon, and I flinched, my muscles and joints tightening painfully as my anxiety lit itself into an aggressive fire. I fell against the stone wall next to the door as I tried to control it—tried to push it away—yet it didn’t seem to be helping and the openly worried look that Wyn was giving me was not exactly helping me to win the emotional battle I was waging.

“I’m fine,” I grumbled in answer to the unasked question, glad when her face relaxed, giving me a chance to calm the firestorm of nerves that was waging within me.

I kept my breathing even as I pushed the last of my anxiety away, the uncontrollable emotions leaving until all I was left with was the panic of what would come tomorrow. I knew I couldn’t push that away, however, even if I wanted to. That panic was different than what Cail had given me; it didn’t turn my world upside down, it only made me more aware, and I kind of liked that. I would take ‘aware’ over ‘psychotic break’ any day.

“I’m fine,” I repeated as I pushed off the wall, moving away from her in what I hoped was going to be the right direction.

“So…” Wyn said, the way she lengthened her vowels, making me worried for what was coming. As long as she didn’t mention my inability to manage my emotions, I think we would be good. “Speaking of boyfriend…”

Or not.

“We weren’t,” I let my voice growl, desperately hoping she would drop the subject, even though I knew she wouldn’t.

She didn’t, and the mischievous grin on her face grew before the most embarrassing phrase known to man tumbled off her tongue. “Is Ilyan a good kisser?”

“What?” I practically shrieked, knowing right away that my frantic outburst had given me away. Even though she had figured it all out before, there was no way I could get out of her demanding a full play-by-play now.

“I knew it,” she cooed, causing every single blood vessel in my body to freeze in place. “Spill.”

I exhaled, knowing that I wouldn’t tell her anything. It wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have.

“No,” I said, my voice distorted as I ground my teeth in embarrassment.

“Oh, come on! It’s not like it’s a secret or anything. Although why you want him to kiss you, I have no idea.” She said it just like she always had and my head spun toward her at the familiarity.

Now she talked about him like she was grossed out by him, like she had before when Ilyan had trained me at the motel. Not like this morning, not like earlier when Ilyan had laid out the plan. It was like the many faces of Wyn. I thought I had known her, but now I just couldn’t keep up. I narrowed my eyes at her, almost willing my sight to come so I could figure out what she was playing at.