Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(106)

The mirrors shivered with another explosion, sending the light into a dance, everything quaking except for ten spots of dark that circled the space, spreading out from the larger room like spokes on a wheel.

I looked at the cavern in awe before my heart was ripped from my chest when a young boy emerged from one of the oversized entryways, running across the wide space with a wide look of panic on his face. The image slammed into me, taking me back to just a few hours ago when I stood on that dratted mountaintop, pushing his hair back from his grey face.

“Jaromir,” I gasped, the word swallowed by the knot in my chest.

“No,” I heard Ilyan gasp as he came up behind me.

I didn’t turn toward him. I stared at the child, my heart rate increasing as I took a step forward, ready to tackle the boy, ready to grab him and run out of this mess. For a moment, it didn’t matter that I had buried him, that he was gone. It was him. It had to be. It was him, and everything was fine. I almost expected Risha to run in right behind him. I expected their laughs. I expected life to rewind and be what it was, what it was going to be.

Don’t get too excited, son.

How many times do I have to tell you that life isn’t a fairy tale?

I know it’s not—

You are a fool.

I am not a fool.

Look again.

I had taken two steps toward Jaromir before I stopped short, the haunted words of my father hitting far too clearly as my heart seized, and my eyes saw for the first time what I had missed: hair that was far too blonde; a face that, while similar, was missing the mark on his face. The kiss that had irritated him so before he had found out that it had given him magic wasn’t there.

It wasn’t him.

But I knew who it was. Only one other person looked so much like him.

“Míra!” I erupted, realization smacking me across the face, stinging my eyes as my already unstable magic roared to life. The voice inside of me laughed in excitement.

Maybe it is a fairy tale.

The girl stopped short as she turned toward me. A large pink scar stretched over her face, distorting her features as her jaw dropped into a wide “oh.” She wasn’t looking at me, however. She was looking at the man next to me, the surprise meant for him.

“Ilyan! There you are! I need you!” The fear I had expected in her was lost in a kind of relief she shouldn’t have felt. A relief she shouldn’t be allowed to feel. Not after what she had done. Not after what she had taken from me.

Then why don’t you make her pay?

Why don’t you make her hurt?

Make her cry …

Maybe I will.

Fury rushed within me, erupting in a feral shriek that resonated through the hall, slapping against her face and wiping the relief from it. The fear she should have felt from the beginning took its place.

“Ryland.”

“You killed him!” The words broke free as any restraint I had snapped in half. Wild anger ripped out of me as my father’s laugh grew into a raucous growl. Magic rumbled underneath my skin, boiling inside my muscles in a desperate attempt to reach her.

To do to her what she had done to me.

Make her pay.

Watch the regret on her face.

It’s beautiful. You need this.

“You killed her!”

“Ryland, no!” Ilyan screamed from beside me, his panicked counsel falling to nothing as a blast exploded from my hand.

An attack that was meant to kill streamed from me, dyeing the bright blue light of the room into a deep green as it sped right at the child. Right at her chest, ready to do to her what she had done to me.

Míra screamed as Ilyan ran past me, her frightened howl a comforting lullaby as she jumped to the side, behind a large destroyed davenport in a desperate attempt to escape my attacks. Attacks kept coming, one after another, ready to destroy her, to end her.

Tables exploded; glass tinkled against the stone. Everything around us began to explode as I attacked her, each assault chasing her down in an attempt to reach her. My anger grew as the once fine furnishings of the room got in my way. No matter. I would destroy it all to get to her.

“Ryland! No!” Ilyan repeated his plea as his body impacted with mine, a heavy shoulder slamming into my back, the lanky weight of my brother pinning me to the ground. “Stop! We talked—”

“I’m not going to take her alive!” I writhed underneath him as I yelled, twisting, slamming a free hand into his shoulder. A single spark of magic moved into him, erupting inside of him and ripping the muscle and flesh.

His blood showered over me, raining over my face and arm as he was thrown back through the air in a blur of blond hair and gold ribbons. His yell of pain and anger faded as my scream followed his flight.

“She doesn’t deserve to live!”

Neither does he.

Don’t hesitate, Ryland.

Kill them all, son.

The glass and mirrors above us shook and rattled from the impact of his body against the wall, the blue light quivering around him as his body peeled from the stone and fell to the ground with a thwack.

“Only her, Father. She’s going to pay,” I said quietly, more to myself than to him.

Turning from Ilyan, I looked at the girl in question as she glanced at me from behind the large couch that she seemed to think would be some kind of safety.

I smiled at the imagery, sending the couch flying with one little flick, but not before she had sent her own counterattack speeding toward me in a ribbon of violet that sparked and crackled. The blue air filled with electricity, and the oxygen around us ignited with the heat of her attack.