Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(51)
“No guarantees, Ilyan. Between asking me to keep people alive and keep the rubble intact, it might be too much,” Wyn said in a sing-song, her voice deep and dark in the seductress tone I had gotten used to. She was in her element.
Ilyan ignored her. I didn’t blame him, not now that more rocks were being hurled at us.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Ryland shuffled his feet before taking his place beside his brother.
Ilyan wrapped his arm around my waist as he pulled me beside him, my steps broken as I tried to keep up with his large gait.
Watch for larger attacks from the left side, Ilyan’s voice filled me, the words sounding so focused I wasn’t even sure he was talking to me. More hostility and rocks seem to be coming from that side. I have increased the shield; it should be enough to block the stones...
Don’t worry, darling, I interrupted as I walked unsteadily beside him. I can handle this and not kill anyone.
Ilyan smiled as the unstable roof shifted beneath us. I felt the shift, the possibility of it falling causing my heart to fall to my toes. But no one else shifted. The four of us continued forward as a single powerhouse, their eyes narrowed toward the crowd gathered below our makeshift platform.
Rocks peppered the barrier before us as we drew closer, sparks of multicolored magic flashing in the air and against the barrier with each step. All the while, the people fought, yelled. Fists were thrown, words hurled, and my heart galloped against my chest, a different kind of fear attempting a hostile takeover of my soul.
Ilyan’s arm slipped from my waist as he stepped ahead of us. Ryland, Wyn, and I stopped in place with a subtle flick of his wrists.
Wyn shuffled her feet in an attempt to stay still, the same fear I was feeling taking over her. Ilyan was getting dangerously close to the barrier, to the rocks that smacked into the magical wall with deep ripples, to the bright streams of magic that I was positive would give him something far worse than a bit of a stomach ache.
He continued forward, his heart a riotous force against my soul as he stepped past the barrier, leaving him unprotected except for his magic that flared to deflect each attack individually. His délka vedení královsk remained behind, twisted around mine as always, bound together as we were.
I couldn’t look away from him as he stood still and angry before them, his eyes wide as my heart thumped in my ears, fear filling me.
“Uml?et!” Ilyan’s voice was a roar as his magic infected the word, dispersing over the crowd in a ripple, seeping into them and numbing their magic, numbing their thoughts.
Silence spread over them as anger slipped off their faces, their shoulders slumping and eyes glossing over. As one, the anger was pulled from them as Ilyan’s magic infected them into a slack jaw stupor that I knew better than to believe, no matter how disconnected and stupid they appeared.
They were trapped under his magic. They had no choice other than to listen.
“Uml?et!” Ilyan repeated just as loudly, the magic grabbing them with a firmer grip, cementing them in place and pulling their focus right to him.
“You have behaved atrociously!” Ilyan roared, his voice a dark rumble of power as he stood before them, his braid long and straight down his back, the crown bobbing on his head.
With a few words, their eyes began to widen, their jaws dropping in awe as fear began to take hold. They saw him now as a king. Despite the spell, they were under the power of this man.
“This type of behavior is not acceptable for my people.” Ilyan’s voice cascaded over the crowd and ricocheted off the walls like a drum. “This is not the way I expect people who hold the powers of the earth to act. You have allowed that same evil magic we have fought against for centuries to take hold amongst you. You have allowed one who once walked our halls infect you. He has planted seeds of doubt, seeds of lies, and seeds of conspiracy within each of you. By letting them take root, you have let them grow into something ugly. You have allowed the foundation of terror to take hold, to destroy you all. It is you, not Joclyn Krul, your queen, who has done this thing!”
Ilyan shook as his voice rose, his crown shivering from the movement, his hands tense as he pointed at me then at them. Sparks of magic flew from the tips of his fingers as his power rattled uncontrollably throughout him. Throughout me.
My chest heaved under the weight of his power, his emotions bolstering me with a potent influx of strength and power. Looking out at the controlled hysteria before me—at the people who, with one look, began to see the same power, the same regality in me that they saw in Ilyan—I could feel it in me. Torn and stained jeans and all, I straightened my shoulders.
“For centuries, we have met in council to hear the concerns of our people to build a path into our future that suits us all. But this farce you have created is not the way it is done. I am the king, and I expect to be treated as such. I expect my words to be heard and my requests to be met. I expect my people to present themselves with decorum, pride, and the respect that I show them—nay, that their magic affords them and that their lineage has given them.”
His speech rattled amidst everyone. It echoed against the stone. It seeped into bones. It infiltrated my soul in such a way that I could feel it become a part of me, and I was not the only one.
Everyone in the room stood, staring at him with their eyes wide in surprise, their jaws slack in astonishment. No one moved. No one said anything, yet I was certain his magic had been dispelled from them already.