Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(2)

Only powerful magic could cause such a wall. Although it would also block me from seeing into her fate, causing me to go into any upcoming battle blind, it was a risk I would have to take.

I needed to keep this from her. They couldn’t know what had happened until the perfect moment.

Body tensing in hesitation, I closed my eyes, knowing how much exertion this was going to take.

A Zámek was not done often, if at all. And I already knew it would weaken my ability, weaken my sight. But for this, it was a risk I would have to take.

Heart pounding, eyes shut, I let my magic swell within me, all of my power pulling into me, against my heart that held it, against my lungs that breathed it.

Swelling inside of me, strong and powerful, it began to shake, the energy condensing in a wave of power and sound that moved into my bones, rattled my skull. I could already feel the shield beginning to form, hard as steel, as dark as death. It was heavy enough to keep out even the most powerful magic of sight, to keep the future and past contained within me so that only I could see.

“What are you doing?” Ovailia snapped from beside me, her voice oddly distanced over the rumbling static that was filling my mind. “Sain, what do you see?”

Ignoring her, I focused on the power that seemed moments from exploding out of me. The rumbling grew worse until I was convinced the vibrating I felt moving inside me was visible from the outside. I half-expected Ovailia to scream in worry, but there was nothing except silence, nothing except my strained breathing as the iron-clad shield began to move away from me, stretching past the caves and over the fields that surrounded us, butting right up against the large shield Edmund had placed over them all.

Heaving with the effort, I kept myself upright, determined not to show the weakness the Zámek had on me, knowing I could easily pass out from the effort.

Timothy had almost killed himself, and he had spent a month putting it in place.

“Sain?” she asked again as I opened my eyes to glare at her. “What’s going on? What are you doing?”

“I am securing your future,” I said with a smile, the hidden meaning humorous to me.

Ovailia narrowed her eyes before looking away, obviously not happy with the response yet unwilling to pursue it any further.

I had more exhilarating things to deal with.

“You,” I snarled, aware that I wasn’t certain of his name, although it wasn’t something I would remedy. A man without a name was more valuable than a man who clung to a weak identity.

“Y … yes?” He lifted his head slowly, his body shaking as he pulled himself back to his feet, his head bowed in humility.

It wasn’t respect he was showing, however; it was fear. His focus was still fixed on the drying blood that coated my skin, that dripped from my disheveled beard, on the bright red footprints trailing behind me, on the body of his former master, and on Edmund’s guards who littered the room in a garden of death.

It was the remains of Edmund that he stared at the most, however. The air was saturated with the scent of his charred body. You couldn’t ignore it was there.

You couldn’t ignore what had happened.

“Yes?” I repeated the response with a hiss, my eyebrows lifting.

Even if the warning in my voice hadn’t startled him, I was sure that did.

“Yes, master,” he amended quickly, his body shaking in fear, the anxiety making it difficult for him to stand. He continually shifted his feet, his hands flexing and grabbing at the air as if it would somehow support him.

“Do it,” I whispered, taking another step toward him, leaving another damp and sticky bloody print behind me. “Bow.”

He didn’t hesitate to fall to the ground, his hands and arms tucked underneath him as he quivered in a pathetic show of reverence. He looked like nothing more than the disgusting gelatin the mortals would eat.

This would not do.

“No, you idiot. I said bow, not cower.”

He shivered, the wobbling mass vibrating before me as my magic rushed from me and wrapped around him, infecting him, controlling him, contorting him into a form more acceptable for someone of my stature.

He screamed out in fear and pain as I contorted him, his arms twisting into unnatural positions before I tucked them underneath his torso, twisting him into the perfect form.

“Lovely,” I whispered, stepping toward him as his screams faded to pained whimpers. “That is a bow.”

“Yes, master,” he repeated once more, his voice stronger, as if the quivering would protect him from what was coming.

“I have changed my mind,” I began as I walked closer still, more bloody footprints appearing in his line of sight. “I have seen what is coming, and I have a new job for you.”

He jerked a bit, obviously confused and needing some kind of eye contact to verify what I had said.

My magic flared once in warning, jerking him back to the position I had placed him in, a small whimper of pain seeping from his throat.

“I no longer wish for you to tell them what has happened here. I wish for them to see it. I want them to see.” Flashes of the sight I’d had filled me, the screams and blood echoing inside my mind.

Turning toward Ovailia, I couldn’t stop the smile, knowing her part in all of this made it all the sweeter. She watched me intently, still not pulling herself away from the remains of her father.

“Tell them all,” I continued, the dried blood on my face pulling and cracking as I smiled toward the quivering mass below me. “Trpaslíks and Chosen are to gather in the old council hall. Tell them their master has an announcement to make, nothing more.”