Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(7)

“We may only be six, but I know how to lead us in battle,” Ilyan said, his voice deep and menacing as he looked into Thom.

I had never seen this side of Ilyan before, this imposing presence that demanded respect. It was different than when his voice had told of his place and power, when by just looking at him you knew who he was. This was Ilyan when his power—his regality—ruled him. It was awe-inspiring.

“Yes, if we were six whole-bodied individuals, but we are not,” Thom countered, his voice light and mocking with his usual irritation as he defied Ilyan’s reprimand. “Wyn has only just been removed from the zánik curse; she hasn’t been awake for more than a few minutes from when the Siln? healed her six hours ago. Ryland is locked in Sain’s bathroom as we speak, rocking back and forth, mumbling about death and traitors. The Siln? is cowering, right in front of me, scared of her own shadows. And Dramin…” Thom’s voice faded and broke at the mention of Dramin’s situation.

I wanted to say that Thom was wrong about me—about everyone—but I could still feel the anxiety that just hearing Ryland’s name had given me. I could feel Wyn from where she slept, her body still weak from all that she had gone through. I knew he was right. We were only six and most of us were broken. Fighting was impossible.

“We cannot attack, My Lord, not now. Our only chance to live is to escape.” Sain’s voice was deeper than it had been before, the tone strangely flat and monotone. My ears perked at the familiarity of the sound of a sight, which weaved his normal words with the deeper tones of his ability. My blood prickled as my own Drak magic heightened, yet his eyes never darkened and his own magic never flared.

“But what of the sight, Sain?” Ilyan asked, my focus darting back to him as he ran his hand through the short strands of blond hair, his frustrations flowing into me. “The sight clearly showed a battle within the walls of Rioseco.”

“A battle with you and the Siln? only,” Sain said, his calm voice rumbling. “If you think back, it showed no others involved in the last battle.”

“Then we should get everyone else out in the morning,” Thom said without hesitation, his strong voice blocking out the rebuttal I had been trying so hard to form. “I need to get them out of here. I need to get out of here.” Thom’s patience snapped with his last words, the mad look in his eyes taking over. My nerves unraveled at the insanity behind his eyes. I understood that look because I felt the same need to run, to get everyone away from the danger that surrounded us.

“Impossible. Joclyn will not be ready to aide in your escape by tomorrow.” Ilyan didn’t even look at Thom as he spoke; he kept his eyes down on the map, his thoughts only on what was ahead of us.

“She looks ready.”

I cringed at Thom’s tactless statement, at the thought of being pressed into some form of battle right then. I could already feel my fears push against me, my magic surge so uncontrollably it scared me.

“No,” I said softly, not sure my voice was loud enough for anyone to hear.

No one moved.

Ilyan leaned toward Thom over the table, his eyes hard and threatening as he looked into him. “I pulled her from Cail’s mind three days ago, Thom. Three. For most of that she has slept. She needs time.” Ilyan’s voice was a hammer meant to put Thom in his place, however his hot head only fumed more, his anger growing underneath Ilyan’s displeasure.

“We don’t have time; Edmund is coming,” Thom snapped, his magic sparking in his fury. It rushed against me and I cringed, the alarm on his face scaring me.

“You don’t think I know this? I do!” Ilyan roared, his voice so loud the furniture in the room began to shake. “It is my responsibility to keep my subjects safe, and I will do this the way it needs to be done. The way the sight has shown me. You will follow, Thomas.”

The silence that followed Ilyan’s power shocked through me. I felt the need to bow before him just as Thom and Sain had moved to do with mumbled apologies, the tension in Ilyan’s back leaving as they did.

Ilyan’s eyes narrowed at the submissive curve of Thom’s back before he turned away from him, his own posture tall and straight. Ilyan’s fingers trailed over the surface of the map in contemplation before his lips turned up in the smirk I had grown to love, his eyes darting over to me.

“I will fight with Joclyn by my side,” Ilyan said, his focus unwavering from me. The hard lines of before had gone, leaving everything about him soft and warm as he looked into me. His hand covered mine as he promised me of my strength in silence, his thoughts screaming of his confidence in me; his confidence building mine.

“What if Ovailia attacks before Wyn heals enough to move?” Thom asked in desperate panic that broke the spell Ilyan had wrapped me in. “I will need her help to move Dramin and Ryland. I need to get them out of here alive.”

“She won’t,” Ilyan said sternly as his focus moved back down to the map.

“But what—”

“Ovailia is more talk than action.” Ilyan put a stop to Thom’s insistence quickly, the depth of his voice demanding respect. “She won’t do anything without someone backing her up. She will not attack until our father is here, and I don’t sense him yet.

“When will Wyn be ready to move?” Ilyan asked, his voice floating over the table toward no one in particular.