Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(89)

One of the trees just within the forest line caught fire as the lightening hit it, the dried wood bursting into flames as the earth greeted us. The fire spread in a wall of rampant energy, my vision flashing as more fire infiltrated my thoughts. I shook my head to clear the sight and watched the trees burn, the omen of what was to come burning through my blood.

“We will part here,” Ilyan announced, his arms still enclosed around me as everyone turned at our arrival, their faces as hard and stressed as the blood that flowed through my veins.

Thom nodded toward us before continuing to lead Dramin into the forest, his goodbyes already said, and even if they weren’t, I had an idea that he wouldn’t have said anything more anyway. Sain moved toward me, his pace slow after having helped Ryland to sit on one of the many benches that littered the large courtyard.

“I hope this choice you two have made does not affect the outcome of the sight.” The timbre of Sain’s voice changed as he looked at me, disapproval bleeding with disgust as his eyes glared into me.

Ilyan’s muscles rippled underneath me as he looked at my father. I could feel his stress roll through me, my own matching it as I narrowed my eyes at him, my back stiffening as I made to step toward him. I didn’t know if I wanted to yell, or scream, or berate him until he vanished to smoke. I just couldn’t handle this, not anymore. If he wasn’t going to support me then I didn’t want him around.

Ilyan’s arm wound around my waist before I could make my move, his strong grip keeping me against him, knowing what I had in mind. My frustrations didn’t lessen at Ilyan’s touch, however. If anything, they only heightened, Ilyan’s own irritation fueling it.

“We have made this choice of our own accord, Sain,” Ilyan rumbled, his voice growing dangerous as he stood his ground. “As her father, we request your respect for her choice, and your blessing if you would give it.”

I would have expected Sain to stand down—to wilt under the power of Ilyan’s voice—but he stayed straight, his chin rising as his eyes darkened. I wanted to cringe away from the look in his eyes, knowing what was coming, but I couldn’t move, and my anger wouldn’t let me look away.

“I will not,” Sain spat. “The length of the royal line was not in the sight, Ilyan.”

My blood froze as my sight flashed, image after image shooting through the darkness of my vision. They were sights that I had seen before, that I had seen too many times over the last few days, and in not one of them was my hair braided. In not one was Ilyan wearing his ribbon.

He was right; there were no ribbons, but last night… I had received that sight as well. I had seen Ilyan place the ribbons in my hair; I had received a sight of our bonding. I had felt the power of that sight last night as I lay wrapped in Ilyan’s arms. The sights should match up. If everything Sain said was right, they should match up.

Something was missing. The sights were scattered and broken, just as Sain had warned. I just didn’t understand why.

What does it mean, Ilyan, I sent him as I glared into my father, my distrust of him keeping my glare in place.

I do not know.

“I warned you,” Sain said, the words that could have so easily been a threat sounding more desperate, as if he feared the end of the world.

Sain said no more before he walked back to Ryland who had fallen asleep against the bench Sain had left him on.

“What are we going to do?” I asked once Sain was out of earshot, my hand tightening around Ilyan’s.

“Follow the plan,” Ilyan almost growled. “We have to trust that all the sights are correct. You saw our bonding. Sain saw your victory. Both will come to pass.”

He spoke like he believed it, but I knew he didn’t, not anymore. I could hear the doubt and fear wind through him, his mind working tirelessly through the thousands of other options and commands he could give.

None of which he would.

I grit my teeth and looked away from him, knowing now was not the time to question him.

Wyn stood just across the courtyard from me, her body stiff as she watched me. She jerked forward like she wanted to run to me, like she needed to say something, anything. Neither of us moved, our words trapped deep inside. Her focus lingered on me as she removed her shoes and placed them in her backpack, the large, dark orbs of her eyes saying what I didn’t want to hear, what she couldn’t say.

What I couldn’t say.

I couldn’t bring myself to say the words that would come next; to say goodbye.

When we had charged into Ryland’s manor, we had been outnumbered, but not to this extent, and there was something in the air that made everything feel more final.

More like the end.

I pinched my eyes shut at the thought, blocking Wyn from view as I pulled at my recall, the visions from the sight filling me, image after image of Ilyan fighting by my side, Ilyan screaming as he held my body, the stones of the abbey in the background.

My chest heaved and stuttered as I tried to breathe, my eyes opening to the empty courtyard, ready to face what was ahead of me.

“Are you ready?” Ilyan asked, his voice a powerful torrent of faith and confidence.

I nodded once and straightened my shoulders, letting the map Ilyan had placed in my mind flood me. The plan was so well laid out that my confidence shifted and grew with the knowledge of what was to come.

“Yes.”

Ilyan’s warm hand wrapped around mine, although I didn’t turn to face him. I stared straight ahead, the dark legs of the trees against the flickering fire a beacon of what was to come.