Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(125)
“Or I could kill him if you’d prefer,” Míra sneered at Ovailia’s suggestion.
Ovailia, however, seemed proud of herself, her ridiculously forced laugh echoing painfully inside my head.
“Whatever you do, just don’t let him get away or hurt himself, or you for that matter,” Ovailia continued.
The vision of the two of them standing together was clear for a moment before it faded back to the black pool that I seemed to be swimming in, pain shooting down my arms as I tried to move them.
“You say that like it’s easy,” Míra hissed, her voice cutting in and out. “I’m too young to babysit.”
“I need to find my brother before Sain does. Perhaps even locate Damek if I’m lucky.” Ovailia’s voice faded away as Edmund’s laugh became louder, the sound swelling in my head as the pain shot through me again. It seemed I was doomed to be trapped in one prison or another. “Keep the blade with you. We will be back to retrieve it and the baby. Then, together, we will end this.”
I caught a brief glimpse of Ovailia leaving the room, of Míra glaring at me, before a black fog drowned me, leaving me sitting against the wall in a stubborn stillness. It was my only option until the pain began to subside.
I didn’t know how long I sat there, refusing to move, forcing my panicked breaths into a calm. I was frozen, listening to the booms of explosions that shook the cave, to Míra’s uneven steps. I sat, keeping my eyes trained forward as I waited for just a glimpse of her as she paced before me, her eyes wide while she glared at me, just as angry as she always was.
The heavy tension that had twisted my body faded as the black did, dissolving until only the edges of my vision were shivering and twisting with darkness, only the tips of my nerves and the joints of my bones stinging.
If I were smart, I would have sat there for as long as I needed to recover, leaving the girl oblivious to my strength as I formulated a proper counterattack. But I didn’t, and part of me didn’t care. I was too desperate to see pain on her face, to feel the sweet relief of revenge that my father had always told me about.
It’s there, son.
Let it fuel you.
I sighed at the odd calm in his voice, the sound loud in the silence as Míra turned toward me, her eyes narrowing as she took a step in my direction.
“I’m guessing you can see me now,” she said, all sign of fear gone from her voice. Only the angry, smug, little brat I had met in Prague remained. “Wonder if you can hear me, though.” She stepped toward me slowly, cocking her head to the side as the corner of her mouth turned up, the wickedness shining right through. “I wonder what nasty things I can say—”
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?” The growl of my voice ripped past my anger as everything else bubbled underneath, still paralyzed by Ovailia’s attack. “Or did she just wash your mouth out with soap?”
The shock at what I had said slammed into the girl, her emotions bristling inside her eyes before it was all replaced with a scowl so similar to Ovailia’s I was sure the two had been spending too much time together.
“She did,” Míra snapped. “Not sure yours did, though.”
“She didn’t. My father made me kill her. He made people kill a lot of people who didn’t deserve to die. Like Jaromir.”
All emotion was wiped from her face. The gaunt horror that replaced it was something I didn’t expect. I expected her usual anger, the usual sneer, but she just stared, the look haunting as she looked beyond me to something dark, something that was twisting inside her.
The look sped into me, my pulse increasing as my vengefulness did. Everything pumped and moved in perfect harmony as my magic began to ignite, the last of Ovailia’s counterattack leaving.
“He didn’t have to die,” I hissed, letting my malice press against the little girl, letting it dig into her. Letting it hurt. “You didn’t have to kill him. But I do have to kill you.”
She opened her mouth, ready to say something, but I attacked, moving my hand fast, as an assault spread through the air toward her. The little girl threw herself to the side just in time.
She screeched in fear as I hissed in pain, the sudden movement sending fire and ice back inside my nerves and bones. I guessed I hadn’t recovered as much as I had thought.
Míra saw the opportunity and reacted, her counterattack hitting me straight in the gut as I was trying to shuffle away. The energy that spread from her hand crackled in the air as she held me in place, the power strong. I forced my head to turn toward her, using all of my strength to fight for that one simple movement.
She smiled as I glowered at her, her teeth tinted red as she pulled a tiny shard of a blood red stone from her pocket, brandishing it at me threateningly.
My eyes widened as it drew closer, blood boiling in fear of the Souls Blade in her hand.
“Where did you get that?”
“Ovailia told me where to find it. Don’t think I won’t kill you,” she hissed, placing the shard below my nose, the smell of acid and blood strong. “Don’t think I don’t want to.”
The darkness that was so common in her took the forefront. I knew I should see it as the warning it was, but I didn’t care.
I had the same darkness in me, after all.
“Like you killed Jaromir?” I spat, the words garbled from the forced tension in my jaw, her attack still wringing bones and tendons together painfully. “And Risha! And—”