Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(43)

“Yes, it’s the same time. Nothing else has changed.” Joclyn began to pace the room, her hand shaking as it ran through the long curls that had come free of her braid. The move made me smile, despite the dread not easing.

“If you don’t give me some kind of clue as to what you are talking about, Joclyn, I may have to report you to your husband.”

She shot me a look, a slight smile kissing the corner of her mouth as she pointed to her head, her meaning clear. She wasn’t talking to me.

The knot of fear that was trying to take up residence in my gut eased a bit, while my irritation increased.

I set my mug down with a little bit more of a bang than I had intended, and we both jumped, Joclyn turning toward me in shock.

At least I had gotten her attention.

“Other people are part of this conversation, my dear,” I said, leaning back against the wall as I folded my hands over my belly. “Although, I hope you will send Ilyan my regards.”

She smiled in full then, rushing back to sit on the side of the bed, hair and ribbons streaming behind her in light and dark that contrasted beautifully in the dim lamp light.

“Sorry, Uncle,” she whispered, taking my hand in hers. “It’s … I just realized Thom is inside of Imdalind. He’s there … with everyone else.”

“This hardly seems to be an ah-ha moment,” I sighed, deflating a bit at the anticlimactic revelation.

“Except, the before and after hasn’t changed.”

My heart must have forgotten to stop beating.

“The sights of before are the same …” she continued, “and of after … it’s that … it’s the players.”

“Now I am really not following.”

“There was something Sain said when we battled him in Prague. I don’t think I was ever meant to kill Edmund. I think the sight you had all those years ago was about Sain, not Edmund. I can still save him, Dramin.”

“Which him?” I asked.

Her eager smile faltered a bit before she glued it back in place. She jumped to her feet, rushing to the door without giving me a response. “I have to go … The council is going to start soon, and I need to see Ilyan …” She froze, her hand on the knob.

Mine extended toward her as a weird longing overtook me, the relief from before forgotten.

Joclyn must have felt whatever poison was in the air as I had, for she ran back to me, her arms wide. Her long, spindly limbs wrapped around my neck as she buried her face in my shoulder.

I froze at the contact, my heart bumping painfully in my chest.

She had hugged me before, but something about this was different. It sat on my chest like a lead weight, my own guilt accentuating it, making it hard to breathe.

“I love you, brother,” she gasped, her voice muffled from where she was hiding, making me certain she was trying to hold back tears.

“I love you, too.” The words flowed as my arms wrapped around her, pulling her against me.

One squeeze and she broke free, sitting on the edge of the bed with a broad smile, her silver eyes gleaming. “You are the best brother in the world.”

I didn’t know if she was teasing or being serious, not with the width of the smile on her face. Therefore, I simply chuckled, the sound filling me and lifting the last of the knots that had tightened in my chest.

“That’s better than being your favorite brother.” I chuckled. “Then I would have been very disappointed in my competition.”

She laughed as I did before moving across the room, pausing at the door with the promise to return after the council.

Then it was just me and the invalid.

For the first time in weeks, I was seriously considering yelling his name, perhaps even throwing something heavy on his head … just to see if it would wake him.

I doubted it.

“It’s you and me, kid. Until that kid Míra finds us, anyway.” Grumbling, I lay back, shifting the plethora of pillows into some weird nest shape. I was confident I looked like some weird animal, but it was quite comfortable.

I didn’t know how long I slept, but it was deep and comfortable, tight and warm, like being wrapped up in those same pillows. I got lost in it, lost in laughing with my soul mate, walking hand in hand with her down the long path inside the forest that we always used to visit as our escape. When the kids got to be too much, when the world got to be too loud, we would walk through that forest. Escape the noise, escape the future, and just exist in our own reality, lost in the present.

That was the hardest thing for a Drak: to exist in the present and not get lost in the future or in the past.

This was a past I wanted to get lost in, however. This was a past I missed.

“Your hair is longer, Dramin.” I could feel her touch against the back of my neck, the calluses that always lived on the tips of her fingers rough yet soft.

“I’ve been growing it out.” My voice was younger, the conversation familiar, alerting me to the memory that my mind was pulling into the dreamscape.

It was a good one and one I had relived many times before.

Even beyond the dream, I could feel the calm, feel the love stretch over me, wrap around me, more tightly and more soothing than the pillows.

“I’ve noticed.” Her voice was soft in my ear, and I turned, my heart rate accelerating at the voice of my mate, Galiya.