Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(26)

“My father trained you.” The statement was molasses in my mouth, but Míra didn’t look away. “He trained me, too. But that doesn’t mean he owns us.”

But I do.

I own your mind.

I own your will.

As I do the girl’s.

And she’s right; she’s going to kill you all.

Watch and see.

You deserve it.

I let the hatred in my demons fuel me as I stared at Míra.

Jaromir looked between us in panic, the fear on his face deepening due to what I had so openly confessed.

Risha gripped my hand as she leaned closer, her actions making it clear she knew what I was doing. It was making me uncomfortable.

I knew she was trying to get me to stop, but I couldn’t. I was like a freight train hurtling toward the cliff, the destination on the other side of the cavern clear.

“He doesn’t own us,” I repeated, my focus on the girl in question. “We don’t have to give him that power.”

Her hatred deepened, but this time, it was toward me.

“It doesn’t work that way, Ryland. You don’t know what you are saying.”

“I do, Míra. I—”

“No, you don’t!” she exploded, her rage rippling over her as her fists hit against her thighs. “You don’t know!”

“Wí? sho; ?echmi nu,” Jaromir tried to calm her, his voice weak.

Míra glared at him, the look increasing the just-been-punched look the boy had.

“Meble? che po tosho! None of you know what you are talking about!” She turned toward us, the anger clear as she clenched her jaw before, with the slightest of pops, she vanished into thin air, pulling herself into a stutter as she left our side.

The already tense bands of muscle in my shoulders and arms tightened, my heart seemingly forgetting how to beat as I stared into the space she had been.

A stutter.

A darn near perfect one from what I could tell, performed by a child. It shouldn’t have been possible, not even with the ?tít inside of her. I had watched Cail for years. Even he hadn’t been able to stutter. He hadn’t been able to do anything without the permission of Edmund.

He had been his slave.

As this girl should be if the ?tít was Edmund’s as Jos had seen.

“Míra!” Jaromir screamed, freaking out as he turned around, looking for his sister. “What did you do to her?” He rounded on us, anger burrowing through him so fast I was worried he would turn on us, too.

“We didn’t do anything,” Risha gasped, clenching my shoulder as she stood up, her eyes scanning the hills of rubble in a desperate need to find her. “She shouldn’t have done that.”

“She shouldn’t be able to,” I pointed out, forgetting Jaromir’s panic as I, too, stood up, looking over the piles of rubble for some sign of her.

What had we done? We needed to find her before she did something.

As I stood, another small pop sounded, the girl reappearing in the same spot she had left moments before.

“It’s a stutter,” she said, proud of herself. “I bet you can’t do that.”

I couldn’t, but that wasn’t the reason I was staring at her with such fear. It wasn’t the reason my heart had turned into a thunder of noise and my muscles had tensed into cords of iron. It wasn’t the reason Risha’s fingers were sparking in preparation for the battle she was convinced was seconds away.

“How did you do that?” I asked, my voice dead against the panic.

“It’s a stutter, dummy,” she repeated, irritated I hadn’t followed the obviousness of her statement. “I knew you couldn’t do it.”

“I can’t, but how can you …?”

She opened her mouth to answer then stopped, the malicious intent on her face fading away.

“Did Edmund let you have full control?” I asked.

“Once I got here, everything changed,” she hissed, that same powerful pride taking over her again. “He knows I’m here. He knows what I am supposed to do. I can’t stop it. I’m not a good person, Ryland. I can never be.”

“No,” Risha gasped, putting it all together a second before I did.

Regardless that what she was saying was horrifying, the mysterious job one that I knew at once we needed to stop, it was what she had done that was the real danger.

It was what it meant that made her dangerous.

“The hollow ?tít … It’s not hollow because he took it away. It’s hollow because there is nothing on the other side.” I spoke to myself, the same realization clear on Risha’s face as her chest heaved in panic.

“What are you talking about?” Míra asked from beside us, obviously confused. “My ?tít isn’t hollow. It’s cursed.”

I could see how she would think that, but it didn’t fit.

We ignored her, our eyes wide as things fell into place.

“He would have to be …”

Dead.

I put the word into place in silence, the reality not one Míra should know. Not yet. Not with whatever certain death and expectation she was facing. She was such a loose wire that I didn’t want to give her hope, only to have her erupt. At the same time, I didn’t want to leave her in the dark for long.