Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(104)

The haunting sound whispered over the last of the smoke as it finally cleared, revealing Sain sitting upon his throne.

He had survived my attack, although not very well. Blood seeped from his hairline and a large gash that ran down his arm, so deep I could see the bone. The bone was a stark white contrast against the dark horrors he sat on, the burned and bloodied bones that surrounded him.

I could tell he was weak. It was only his pride that kept him laughing, his pride that kept him here.

He was a fool. I would have run and hidden from the monster he had unveiled in me.

I was going to kill him for what he had done.

Ilyan didn’t even look at the monster as he unveiled himself. His focus was on Joclyn as he held her, pressing his hand against her cheek as he sang to her, rocking her in his arms.

“You’re wasting your time, Ilyan,” Sain said, the taunt clear even though his voice was weak. “I think that one is a lost cause.”

I spun to face him, the man sitting calmly as he bounced a ball of light from his hands. The gash in his arm was almost healed. The magical orb refracted light over the dark cave as he played with it. The violent attack that it restrained was waiting to be thrown.

Magic boiled under my skin, the fire desperate to escape. I knew I couldn’t restrain it. I couldn’t stop it. Not anymore.

I didn’t want to.

“Proud of yourself, are you?” I asked, my voice seductive as I stepped toward him, fully aware my hips had begun to sway. I didn’t even try to restrain the seductress I had been raised to be, even if I didn’t look the part in a band shirt and bare feet. “Felling accomplished?”

“Accomplished would be an understatement, my dear,” he sneered as he spun the ball over his fingers, letting the light reflect over his haunted face. His eyes glossed over as he watched my hips sway. “She was supposed to be the greatest power. She was supposed to end your greatest threat. Instead, I ended her.”

I tried not to flinch at the amount of pride in his voice, her possible death giving him joy.

Tears pressed against my eyes, hot and painful, as I stared at him. Ilyan’s sobs echoed around the large cavern as he lifted Joclyn into his arms, running from the room.

I turned, my magic at the ready in case Sain attempted to stop them, but he waved good-bye with his bottom lip jutted out. The false sympathy was disgusting.

I watched them go, wishing to help, wishing to say good-bye to my friend. I didn’t move except to turn back toward Sain, my magic thundering into the ground again, unseen by the man who sat, smiling from his throne, his barrier firmly between us.

“But, yes, Wyn,” he continued as he leaned toward me, his eyes wrinkling together. “I would have to say that ending my daughter’s life is one of my greatest accomplishments. Right up there with helping Edmund take Rosaline’s.”

I stopped in place.

Thom was right. He couldn’t be, but…

The magic in his hands popped in white light over his head in a harmless explosion. I didn’t even notice. My world was ice and fire.

My fire screamed, desperate to explode out of me, but it was frozen underneath the shock, against the sound of his laugh. Frozen behind my tears.

I stared at him, unseeing, my hair whipping around my face as an attack sped past me. The colors pulled me from my shock as they spread over Sain’s wide barrier.

“Why, Thom!” Sain yelled, the name jerking me as long, dirty dreads swung into my peripheral vision. “It’s been ages! How are you, my friend?”

“Do not use that word for me!” he vented, his hand wrapping around mine and pulling me out of my emotional swamp. “I am not your friend and will never be. You killed our daughter!”

“Oh! You heard that,” Sain called, clapping his hands together in enjoyment. “Wonderful! No secrets between us, right, old friend?”

If it weren’t for Thom’s hand wrapped around mine, his grip a vice against my fingers, I would have attacked Sain right then. Barrier or no, I was pretty positive I could reach him and rip his head off.

I didn’t think anything could stop me.

“I am not your friend,” Thom growled, stepping toward Sain.

I didn’t stop him.

“I know what you are, Thom.”

The joy in Sain’s face vanished, his hands slamming together in another clap. This time, the sound rippled through the air, the sound a hundred decibels above what I had expected. It flowed, hitting against the massive doors of the hall, closing them with a jolt.

I jumped, looking at Sain as he stepped toward us, his eyes black and dangerous.

“I created you. I molded you into what you are. It will make it all the easier to destroy you.”





RYLAND





26





A shaky inhale rattled through my chest. The desperate gasps for air were the only sound I could hear, the only sound that made it past my panic. The world was only comprised of breathing.

Breathing rattled off the stone hallways as we ran past antique side tables and towering wooden doors. Breathing matched the impact of my rubber soles against the cold stone in a perfect rhythm. Breathing smothered Ilyan’s desperate sobs, drowned out the whimpers from the girl he held, devouring the sound of his own steps.

Only breathing.

I let it smother me, smother the world, desperate for it to cover the already pained pressure that was taking over my chest. A pressure that had been there for days, a pressure that only kept increasing.