Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(28)

“Do we need to get Wyn admitted somewhere?” Ilyan asked in deeply accented English as he walked toward us before wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me close. “She seems to have pulled the last strand of sanity away.”

“If I’ve lost sanity, it’s thanks to you two,” Wyn teased, the twisted dinosaur impersonation fading away. “Wars and imprisonment and death and all that crap. I think, after all this is said and done, I deserve a vacation.”

“Only if I can go with you,” I provided, my mind focused on the imagery Ilyan was obsessed with: the white sandy beaches of our T?uha.

I relaxed, the still whispering crowds surrounding us not seeming to matter so much anymore. My magic flared at the thought of the vision, binding strongly with Ilyan’s as it tried to pull us into the sub-consciousness together. It was a pleasant feeling, but one I couldn’t really act on right now, especially right here in the middle of a crowd.

“It’s the south of France,” Ilyan corrected my mistake aloud, making it clear he was as tuned into me as I was to him. “I like this idea, Wynifred. After this war is done, we can all go to the south of France.”

“Deal.” Wyn stuck her hand out like some kind of property broker. Ilyan took it without hesitation, the stress on his brow fading away. “And thanks for the mind reading interpretation. I hate feeling lost in you guys’ half-muted telephone call.”

“Anything to help,” Ilyan said in quick Czech, his smile fading away as yet another disagreement broke out a few tents away from where we stood.

Angry voices rose above the dark, shattering the calm silence of the night like a bass drum.

I jumped at the sound, looking toward them and knowing we should intervene.

This one is on them, Ilyan growled inside my mind, pulling me against him as he led us all away from the fight, away from the tents and into the dark shadows that surrounded the courtyard. “We have worse things to address than juvenile issues.”

“Seriously, that may be the smartest thing you have said all week,” Wyn whispered in the dark, her own irritation with the constant bickering clear. “It’s so obvious you guys have never had kids. You are like helicopter parents with an army grade whirligig, always zooming in, ready to fix everything.”

“Whirligig?” I asked, slack-jawed.

She ignored me.

“Let them fight; let them bicker; let them repeat whatever lies they have. When the band breaks up, it won’t matter, anyway. Only one thing matters. And unfortunately, he doesn’t bring good news.”

“Sain.” His name was a snarl, my magic flaring in irritation as it attempted to pull me into a sight. I let it flare, willing to let it take me, but nothing happened, nothing more than the memory of the man stuck in Wyn’s cage and the words he had said before he had taken his own life.

“Why do I have a feeling this is not the normal tirade?” Ilyan asked as he turned to me, his accent deepening with irritation. “What happened with those two men you saw?” He looked at me quizzically, one eyebrow disappearing into the flyaway strands of blond hair that had broken free from the messy braid I had given him.

“It’s not,” I groaned, my heart booming. “I am not sure Edmund is in control anymore.”

That got his attention. His magic pushed into me with such force I gasped, the scene replaying itself inside my mind as Ilyan watched everything unfold.

Once.

Twice.

He pulled the memory of the scuffle in the alley out of me, looking at it like it were his own. His thoughts were rushed with panic as he dissected everything as we had, the reality terrifying if not glaringly obvious.

“No. It can’t be.” With a gasp, he detached his mind from mine, leaving me staring into the dark of the courtyard again, the bright pops of color somewhat disorienting as everything spun.

“I hated when you do that,” I barked All powerful or not, every time he dug inside my brain, it left me one gasp away from covering all of our shoes with vomit.

“You think it’s true?” Wyn took a step closer, lowering her voice as her eyes darted around to make certain we were alone. But the dark was encompassing, and with the way the people around the tents paid us no mind, I wasn’t confident they could see us, let alone hear us.

They can’t, Ilyan provided, tightening his hands around my waist.

“Given what the Trpaslík said,” Ilyan continued aloud, “I can’t say for certain, but it sure seems that way. But, knowing Edmund and Sain, we can’t rule this out as a well-conceived trick.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Wyn grumbled. “I hope it is that. I have plans far better than burning to end that man’s life.”

“I thought I was supposed to kill Edmund?” I asked, confused by Wyn’s random confession, but also by the situation in general. “There was this big prophecy—”

“I changed my mind. Besides, every day that prophecy seems less and less like a reality you will ever have to face,” Wyn said, feigning some kind of sobriety. “Congratulations, you aren’t going to die!” She smiled brightly at me, but it wasn’t a look I could return.

A wash of despair I hadn’t expected moved over me, a pain and a sadness I didn’t understand pressing against my heart.

I jerked at the emotions, trying to figure out where they were coming from, simply to be pulled out of the fear that brought and into the reality that was attached to it.