Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(76)

“For my mom,” I said as I partially filled the glass, the pressure in my chest growing as wet tears began to cloud my vision. Ilyan’s arm tightened around me in support as I passed the bottle to Thom, his hand already shaking as he took it from me.

“For Rosaline. Your life was not in vain, my child.” Thom’s voice broke as he poured, the glass overfilling before the bottle came clattering to the ground. Wyn gasped at the sound, tears falling in rivers down her cheeks as she moved to wrap her arms around Thom, their bodies pressed close together as they cried into each other.

My heart clenched as his words sunk in, the admission of what each of them had lost in the war sounding louder than a million battle cries. It echoed through my soul, louder than a million cannon booms. I stood still as I watched their faces, the way that Wyn and Thom clung to each other, and my heart broke.

I loved the people in this room, and to see their loss, feel their pain…

I didn’t want that to happen, not anymore.

We had all lost someone—someone precious—all at the hands of a man who had built an army, who had declared our end.

I wouldn’t let him take anything more from us.

I might still be plagued by the demons Cail had infected me with; I might fear the sights I had been given, the prophecy of my death.

But I was also infected with strength, and with power, and with a reason to fight.

“To happiness,” Ilyan said loudly before he pulled me toward the door, leaving the full glasses on Wyn’s table.

Leaving them in hopes that our own names wouldn’t join them.





Nineteen



Ilyan’s arm was tight around me as we walked down the hall, and even with the awkwardness of our position, we still walked smoothly, his hand steadying me as he held me against him. The way he held me, so soft and gentle, calmed the knot in my chest. Almost. I continued to feel it, the fear of what he wanted to talk about still strong. It was numbed by the calm that being next to him gave me, though.

He hadn’t spoken a word since we left Wyn’s room. I wanted to know what I had just witnessed—know if he was all right after walking in on Wyn’s strange proclamation—but he stayed silent. His face was an expressionless mask as we walked through the dim light from the dilapidated torches that lined the halls, each one casting odd, flickering shadows of light and dark over the stones.

The brightness of the magical light covered the smooth lines of Ilyan’s face, giving him dark valleys that made him more intense, more desirable. I refused to look away from him as he led me down the halls, my heart caught between fear and expectation. Even though I was sure he knew I was staring at him, he didn’t seem fazed. He just continued to move us forward, staring straight ahead.

“Can we talk now?” I whispered when I couldn’t wait anymore, my soft voice pulling him out of a trance as he looked down at me and pulled us to a stop.

I followed his lead, unable to make any other choice as his eyes held me captive. His hand reached up to caress the skin of my jawline as I looked at him, my breath catching at the look in his eyes, the way his touch sent fire and lightning into my spine, the jagged jolts of electricity rushing through me.

I could tell right then that something was different—his gaze was different, his touch was different. Something had changed. I searched him as he held me, his face giving no more clues than the undying love that I already knew he felt. The eternity behind his eyes opened into me as a million words and hopes and memories passed through the depths of our connection before he leaned toward me, his eyes holding mine as his breath blew warm against my face while his nose ran the length of mine. The touch pulsed through me as his ragged breathing flowed over my lips, making me forget how to breathe. The warmth of his touch ravaged any hope of logical sense I had.

I gasped for air before he pressed his lips against mine, the pressure desperate as the warmth of him spread through me. A storm of rejoicing power erupted as our magic met and mingled, the tiny little lights that had become so familiar to us popping and sparkling in the chilled air around us.

Ilyan pulled away before I was ready, his soft touch leaving me reeling, gasping for breath as my soul hungered for more.

Ilyan? I asked, not trusting myself enough to speak aloud, unable to keep the confusion inside any longer. My question filled his mind and he smiled, his fingers fluttering against my chin as his hands shook, his eyes opening to meet mine again.

“I think Wyn is right,” he said softly, his voice moving over my skin and sending chills down my arms, a hundred goosebumps growing to speckle over the skin.

“What do you mean?” I asked breathlessly, my heart thundering in my chest as my heart put possibilities of his meaning into place, possibilities that I couldn't help letting tie my stomach into knots.

Ilyan smiled at my question, his lips twitching playfully as his fingers ran down my neck then over the collar of my shirt until they came to a stop right over my heart, his touch gentle. The treacherous organ beat so fast I was sure he could feel the frantic movement through his fingers, the echo of it inside of him as his own tried to keep time. He smiled wider as the bass beat of it moved through him, the look of pleasure on his face heating my blood.

I tried to control my reactions, foolishly waiting for Ilyan’s answer before he wrapped his arm around me and carried me down the hall, his pace quick as he held me against him. Our feet were soft against the lowrumble of thunder that filled the halls, the sound lost in the deep patter of the rain.