Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(44)

Her long hair fell to her waist, pulled back in a braid that hung down her back like a rope. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled, and I wished I could touch her face. I wished I could kiss her, but not yet. That would come later.

“But the question is, my darling Dramin, why?”

Even beyond the numbing love I was surrounded by, I could feel the anxiety. I knew I was about to reveal the secret I had been keeping about the king I had seen on the street. I liked his hair.

“Because I …”

“Kiss me quickly.”

The calm of the dream was shattered, my heart beating spastically into a flood as I turned toward Galiya, her eyes no longer safe and playful, but wide and fearful.

I couldn’t move. The softness of the dream had left, drowning me in panic.

Even the softness of her lips against mine couldn’t break it. The kiss was too desperate, too unfamiliar, too fearful.

“Be brave,” Galiya said as she pulled away, her hands on my collarbone as she looked into my eyes, tears welling in hers. “We will be together again soon.”

“The child is coming. You must stop her.”

Those last words did not come from my girl. They came from the air. They came from my soul. They pulled me down, the tension trapping me in the hell the dream had become.

And then it was gone.

The dream was gone.

And all that was left was screaming in the hallway, rocks rumbling above my head, and the sound of a little boy crying.

The sound of blood hitting stone.

Then the door opened.





JAROMIR





10





The old man next to me sounded like a fog horn—well, his breathing did, anyway. Loud, raspy gasps made it sound like someone was plugging his nose.

The sound stretched over the dark like some long-fingered monster who crept between the beds, touching the hearts of the sleeping Chosen and releasing their souls into the air. Whispers of souls that floated through the morning sun now seeping past the heavy drapes, catching in the beams like glitter before they were devoured by the raspy breath, inhaled with a gasp.

Wheeze, gasp, wheeze, gasp … He took another one.

And another.

I jerked, the image becoming too real, and turned toward where Risha stood by the door, guarding us. Even though she was ominous, it was better than the monster that was stalking me. The bed springs creaked and rubbed that dumb kiss thing on my cheek. It itched if I laid on it too long. I guessed I had.

’Course, it wouldn’t bug me at all if I could sleep, which was something that was not happening.

I wished I could sleep. If I were sleeping, I could at least ignore everything, like the alien-abducted monster my sister was and Ryland’s war that was way too real and creepy. I could even ignore that there was such a person as Edmund Krul. That evil man had messed up everything.

I hadn’t even met him, and I hated him. He had destroyed everything: my sister, my best friends, my family, my home.

Thinking about him made me all angry and jittery, like mice were running along my spine.

Exhaling as loudly as the old man, I shifted again, rolling back toward where Míra slept. The bed springs screamed, exactly as they did every time I had rolled over tonight.

I stared at the creepy hospital hall that had been dark until a few minutes ago when the sun had started to rise, sending weird prison stripes of light over everything.

Maybe I was in a prison. A prison with monsters and unknown sisters.

Could be.

“Jaromir,” Míra hissed through the dark, matching the rhythm of the monster who still crept around the beds so perfectly that I jumped, unable to control the reflex.

I knew what was coming, knew what she would ask. She had been trying to convince me all week. And after today, I was pretty convinced our time was up.

“Do you remember that time we went to Russia?”

I could barely hear her, but she was so calm, so quiet I was sure this wasn’t it. The knot that was attacking my stomach calmed down. I hoped I still had time.

“When we went to visit Uncle Yagi that last time before he died?” The knot was back to the same tense ball of fear. Of all the memories she could have picked …

“Yes.”

I didn’t like where this was going.

Uncle Yagi had suffered from cancer, a really scary one. I don’t remember what kind. It was too long ago; we were, like, five or something. He had everyone come to visit him … and then he did something, something bad. I didn’t want to talk about it right now.

Especially in the dark.

Especially with the creepy way that man’s breath kept echoing around us. I guessed it was good we were talking in code. I didn’t even know if we were allowed to talk, I was surprised Risha hadn’t told us to be quiet yet.

“Do you remember how he was when we first got there? How Mom thought he was dead?”

I really didn’t like where this was going.

I nodded, positive she couldn’t see it in the dark.

“I remember,” I finally got out as I tried to swallow past the constriction in my throat. “He didn’t move, and his skin was so pale. His lips were blue.”

I could barely breathe, let alone talk, but I tried, anyway.

“What are you talking about, Míra?”

“I’m talking about Uncle Yagi,” she hissed, the calm in her voice zapped away.