Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(85)

Don’t expect anything spectacular, I whispered to him, my voice soft within his mind.

I expect only what you have to give me, he returned. My heart soared at the sound of his voice in my head.

My fingers searched through the nest of gold until I found the end, the frayed edges soft like goose feathers. I pulled at the end until it came free, my chest quivering with nerves as I exhaled, willing my stress away.

Everything in me shook as I ran my fingers through his hair, knowing I would barely be able to manage a simple French braid if I was lucky.

I kept the ribbon tight in his silky hair as I weaved the strands together. The knuckles on my fingers shook as I tried to keep the tension right, knowing I was pulling too hard at times. Without the amazing skill that Ilyan had, my simple braid was done quickly, my fingers wrapping the golden length around his hair from the base of his neck, surrounding the braid as I tightened the string, praying that it would be enough to keep it in place.

I knew it wasn’t as good as it could have been; my shaking fingers had made it a little bit off center, but it was done. Sloppiness and all, it was probably the most treasured thing I had ever done.

I ran my fingers down the braid I had given him, my lips pressing against his lavender-scented hair as I sealed my gift to him. He reached back as my hand grazed over the skin of his neck, capturing my hand in his as he brought it to his lips.

“Thank you, my forever, for giving me this gift.”

I stared into his eyes, unsure how to answer; his breath was soft and warm as it ran over my hand. He kept it there, holding me in place as his thoughts and worries floated over me, his mind full of the image from the sight—the way he held my limp body, the way he howled to the sky. I flinched as the image burned into my mind, my heart tightening uncomfortably with the pressure.

“It will be all right, my love,” Ilyan whispered, his hand finally releasing mine from his grasp.

He opened his mouth to say something more when a loud, frantic knock sounded on the door, the surprising sound sending my heart into matching frantic palpitations that Ilyan’s magic soothed at once.

We both had stiffened at the sound, Ilyan’s eyes closing as mine lifted to the heavy door, another knock coming soon after the first.

“My Lord,” Sain’s voice came through the wood, causing my shoulders to knit together. “We are in need of your assistance.”

I looked away from the door to Ilyan who was now staring at me, his hands wrapping around mine as he pulled me toward him. His fingers traced over the skin of my neck, and I tensed, expecting his fingers to brush over my neck to touch my mark, but they never did. The softness of his fingers skimmed around the edges, careful not to touch it.

“Are you ready?” he asked, but I could only stare at him.

I knew I never would be. How do you walk into what is sure to be certain death? I don’t think there is a way to. Not without tears. Not without fear. I could feel both, but there was a difference. I was stronger than my panic. Stronger than the girl who had been thrown out the window; stronger than the girl who had run from Ryland.

I might not be able to defeat death, yet I could meet it head on.

I pushed the tears away and squared my jaw as I faced Ilyan, pulling the hood over my head as we walked to the door, making sure that the flowers in my hair were concealed, guarding the commitment I had bound myself in. I could feel the intricate braid through the fabric, felt his warmth within me, and I knew that Wyn had been right.

I had known there was only a day, and I would gladly make the choice all over again.

Because it was worth it.





Twenty-One



Ilyan led us toward the kitchen, one hand wrapped around mine and the other carrying the large duffle bag that I could only assume held all of his belongings. The hallway seemed darker as we walked; the old, grey stones looked black in the dim light of the hall that stretched on forever.

I tried to keep my breathing even in order to stop the fearful shake that seized through my torso, but it came anyway. The panic was just enough to keep me aware while I fought to keep the demons away.

The kitchen door was a tall slab of wood like all the others, but it might as well have been iron bars for how it felt against my soul. I let out one last shaking breath as we stopped before it, Ilyan’s grip on my hand tightening.

We just stood, staring at the door, knowing what it meant. Ilyan’s terrors ran through my head as I was sure mine did to him.

This was it.

Ilyan exhaled into the silence, his hand running over my back and pressing me into him, his lips pressing against mine in one hard, desperate line. Pressure and desire ran through me with that kiss, his need for me growing as I pressed myself into him.

I felt all his love in that instant, all his worry and sadness. I felt every promise and every vow. I felt it all in one tick of a clock before it was gone from me. His golden eyes devoured me as his fingers trailed over my jaw, lighting me on fire. He swallowed my soul with that look before he turned from me, his back straight as he towered before me with the long ribbon of gold hanging down his back and to the floor. His chest rose and fell as he stood. Once, twice he breathed, and then he opened the door and led us into the dimly-lit room.

I made my way into the room, the door shutting behind me with a loud snap that made my nerves jump.

The room was full of desperate whispers and the scraping of forks as the few who had to eat scarfed down the last of the food Ilyan had brought a few days before. Everyone was seated together at one of the large tables on the other side of the room. While Thom and Wyn had mostly cleared their plates, Ryland just sat between them with a plate of untouched food before him, rocking back and forth as Sain stood over him. The majority of the mumbles I heard came from Ryland’s lips.