Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(30)

“Unless it involves our father coming back from the dead to avenge us, I would say we have more important things to handle right now, little brother.”

Wow, Ilyan, subtle much?

I guessed he had already moved past guilt and into anger.

“No, I …” Ryland began before stopping short, his jaw swinging so low I was worried it would hit the ground like some old cartoon character. “Come back from the dead? You already know?”

“Well, Joclyn heard …” Ilyan began, stuck in autopilot before Ryland’s words caught up with him, smacking him in the face. “What do you know, Ryland?”

“Our father is dead.”

I stared at Ryland, my eyes wide as I attempted to remind myself how to breathe. For all I knew, I had been smacked in the chest.

“You know? But how?”

“I am really lost,” Ryland said, running his hand through his hair as he looked from person to person as if something on our faces would piece it together. His bewilderment grew.

“Don’t be daft, Ry,” Wyn scolded. Her sympathy had already been used up for the year, it seemed. Or maybe she no longer had any. It was hard to tell. “Jos and I overheard some Trpaslík henchmen talking about it—”

“And I just realized why Míra’s ?tít is empty,” Ry interrupted her, his voice still raspy from attempting to catch his breath. “It’s not connected to anything. The other side … It’s gone. His magic is in her, and she has full control.”

If there were a time and a place for a staring match, this would be it.

None of us moved. We stood, frozen in the dark, staring at each other, the glowing orbs of the tents seeming like ominous enemies waiting to attack.

“Where is she?” Ilyan asked, the king coming out like a lion.

“I had Risha take her and Jaromir back to the hall with the healers. She can stutter.”

Ilyan jerked at the word. He probably would have run right to her if I hadn’t held him in place.

“So I am unsure what good it will do,” Ryland continued. “But I gave them orders not to let them out of their sight.”

My heart was once again trying to pound its way past my rib cage. I thought overhearing about my father’s witch burning was one thing, but even I could tell Ryland was spooked.

The accidentally-falling-into-a-pool-of-mud look was suddenly making sense.

“So it’s true, then.” Ilyan’s voice was little more than a growl. Even Wyn was on edge. I could taste her magic in the air. “Sain has killed our father.”

“Is that what you heard?” Ry’s voice caught, his eyes wide as he stared at Wyn and me, His glare was so intense that, if I weren’t standing right there, Ilyan’s arm still wrapped around me, I might have thought I was seeing this through the eyes of sight. “That Sain killed him?”

“And apparently took control of his camps.” Wyn scoffed. Disgusted, she popped her hip out, wrinkling her nose as if the filth-covered man were standing right before her. “King Sain. I think there was a reason that role expired centuries ago. Is it sad that I kind of want Edmund to still be alive? I mean, I’ve kind of been wanting to kill him for a couple hundred years now … It would suck to lose out on that honor at the last minute. And all because of a dirty Drak.”

“Whoa, that’s harsh, Wyn.” Ryland was on the defensive, his shoulders squaring as he moved toward me as though he were preparing to fight for my honor.

As if I needed it.

“I’m not sure how to take that, Wyn, so I am just going to assume you are talking about your swim in the dumpster earlier and the fact that my father doesn’t like to bathe. Given that, I am not sure who is the ‘dirty’ one.”

Ryland snickered as Wyn’s jaw dropped, the upset forgotten as that mischievous light tickled her eyes, a rebuttal moments away.

“That’s enough,” Ilyan snapped as he ceased his pacing to rejoin us, the humor in his voice barely masked. “Wyn, let’s not accidentally insult my wife.”

“Who says it was an accident?” she managed to sneak in.

Ryland snickered, but the side glance Ilyan fixed her with shut her right up. She locked her lips with an imaginary zipper, a smug victory remaining clear in her eyes.

“We have bigger issues than bathing and garbage bins,” Ilyan finished lamely, extending his hand toward mine in an invitation that needed no explanation. “We have no way of knowing for certain if Edmund is dead, but if he is, we need to prepare as best we can for Sain’s control, especially when eighty percent of our people favor him. We need to find out who stands with us and who is against us. I would rather prepare for a rebellion before Sain’s zealots act on it. We need to keep this information from them as long as possible.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?” I asked, not liking where this was going.

“A council,” Ilyan said, a powerful smile running over his face, his magic pressing against all of it with exhilaration for what was coming. “A very well-placed council.”

Everyone looked at each other. With the way Wyn’s eyebrows were flying away, I would guess they were as lost as I was.

There was no denying the power in Ilyan’s face, however. He knew exactly where we were going. And we were all eager to let him lead us there.