Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(36)

“It’s about time you rejoined us.” Ovailia stood before me, her arms folded over her waist, lips pursed, eyebrows disappearing into her hair. It was the same look I had loved so much. But now, instead of feeling my magic pulse and rise to meet hers, I felt anger. The raw white heat ran through me, making it hard to breathe as my vision shifted before me.

“The fire …” I gasped, the simple words drowning in fury.

“Is taken care of … unsurprisingly.” She smiled, the wicked twitch at the corner of her mouth, the pride that shone through her eyes, awakening a demon within me. “You always said Edmund underappreciated me. I guess you were right.”

“Taking care of one poorly placed spell hardly makes you more powerful than the crippled Chosen the flames devoured,” I snapped, trying my best to keep my anger contained. The heavily shifting world before me made it hard as the edges of my vision continually faded to black.

Her eyes hardened, the purse of her lips drifting into a tight line, her jaw locking in place. “It was—”

“If you think that is success, Ovailia,” I interrupted her, letting my words smack across her cheek as I stepped toward her, “then you may not be as powerful as even I assumed. But please, let me know when you have accomplished something worth mentioning.”

The heat of her anger was white hot against my skin as I stripped her bare of any pride she had possessed. My anger of being surpassed in skill was paramount.

“What kind of accomplishments do you want, Sain?” she snapped, her eyes boring into me dangerously. Any other time, I would have smiled; I would have laughed; I would have taunted.

But the anger was too deep, the betrayal too fresh.

She wasn’t supposed to be this powerful. I couldn’t let her think it. I couldn’t let her know.

“Anything that a child could not accomplish.” I struck hard and deep, and her eyes narrowed at me in pain and anger, her jaw taut. “Anything that a pathetic Chosen couldn’t do. Not this … My foolish daughter could do this!”

Ovailia said nothing before turning away, her hair swinging down her bare back, revealing the scar that had been opened and reopened, both at my expense.

“You don’t even wear your battle scars well. All that magic and you are still left wanting.”

She didn’t turn, didn’t reply. Still, I could still feel the heat of her anger, her magic as strong as the intensity of the volatile flames.

It was then that the laugh finally escaped me, my humiliation escaping me in a razor sharp snap that cut across her skin. It cut across the air and put her firmly in place on a pedestal far below mine. She could never be my equal, and it was time she knew it.

“Damek!” I yelled as she retreated into the dark of night.

Thankfully, the man ran right up to me at my call, eager to get to work.

“Gather all the Chosen, injured or whole. We have work to do.”

“Yes, my king,” he groveled, hesitantly moving away before turning to run.

“We have a war to start,” I said to myself, letting my words drift beyond the last of the flames, knowing who I had to kill first.

I supposed Ovailia wouldn’t get to serve her true purpose, after all.





JAROMIR





8





“Don’t you dare, Míra,” I begged, leaning forward to stop her hand before it moved into the ring we had drawn in chalk on the floor. “That’s my last marble, and I need it.”

“No, you don’t.” Míra wrinkled her nose, wiggling a bit before narrowing her eyes at me. The threat was clear, even in the dim light of Risha’s magic.

I tried not to purse my lips. I hated when she did that, being all rebellious and rude and stuff. It had been worse since she had gotten here.

Sometimes, I would swear she hated me. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t hate me. I was her brother; she was my best friend … You didn’t hate those people.

“You don’t need it. It’s your last one. I get that one, and you lose.”

The anger in her voice made me flinch as I sat back against the metal frame of her hospital bed. Folding my legs beneath me and sticking out my lip, I glared at the ring of marbles we had drawn in the middle of the hospital floor after Ryland had made us leave the ruins.

“Why do you think I don’t need it?” Now I was pouting. “I won’t get better at this game if you don’t give me a chance, and I want to master it before Ryland gets back from talking to Ilyan. He’s been gone an hour. I might still have time.”

“If you haven’t mastered it now, you aren’t going to.”

Ouch, Míra. She could at least talk to me like she didn’t hate me.

I didn’t like the changes in her. We used to always play together before. We were a team. We would have ganged up on Risha and beaten her. But Risha was winning, too. I was left in the dust.

It wasn’t fair.

“Let’s play fair,” Risha reminded us from where she sat on the other side of the circle. Her back was against the other row of beds, her hands full of the marbles she had already won.

Míra laughed once under her breath, as if she had both caught me in a lie and an irritation. The sound made me grumpier.

Great, now she was laughing at me.