Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(57)

Dramin was in trouble. He was huddled on the floor, repeating three words like a broken record. The needle had stopped right at the end of the song, not knowing how to continue.

“What I do to you?” she raged, her body shaking as she attempted to fight against me. Her magic was pressed against my barrier like a battering ram, the incessant pressure painful in my chest, but I kept the shield up, holding her place. “You think I did something to you? I did something for you!”

“This is not the way—” I began, but she cut me off with a snap, her magic slamming into mine so hard that I was forced to take a step back. Everything strained as I kept the barrier against her, barely keeping her in place.

“He wanted me to help you!” she yelled, fully crying now. “I had to do it!”

“You hurt my brother!” I yelled back like I was a child. My heart ached with the need to get to him, to help him, but I was trapped, attempting to battle the tiny assassin. Nevertheless, it was no use. She was too strong. “You were trying to kill him!”

“Your brother! I hurt your brother?” she screeched, her anger mixing with her magic in a dangerous concoction. “I had to kill mine, all because he wanted me to save you people! And now he’s gone! Now you can all burn!”

Her last words erupted with anger as I felt Ilyan rush through the door behind me, Wyn’s magic following close behind. Ilyan’s magic flared, rushing against the girl. Her eyes flitted between us in renewed horror. Wyn, however, rushed right to Thom, her strangled breaths hissing inside the room as she dropped beside him, her panic and fear clear in the broken sound.

“Míra!” Ilyan raged, his voice shaking the rafters as he took control of the bind I had placed on the child. His magic pressed against mine as he walked toward the girl who was still held against the wall.

Letting him assume control, I sped toward my brother who still lay on the floor, face up, eyes wide, far too much blood covering him as he muttered and trembled.

I had been so focused on the girl I hadn’t even realized how quickly Dramin was fading. I hadn’t seen how drenched in blood the world had become. Seeing it now, I could barely breathe.

“You have disgraced these halls and our trust. I will not stand for this!” Ilyan yelled, his voice hitting against my back as I clenched Dramin’s hand, my magic rushing into him, into his organs that were burned and broken, his bones that were nothing more than splinters. I began to heal him, desperation taut inside of me with the extent of his injuries.

His hand was so cold, so stiff that I feared he was already gone. Ice gripped my heart at the possibility. Then I became thankful when his focus drifted away from the ceiling. The slight movement of his eyes was enough, although I was confident he did not see me.

“I’m here, Dramin,” I whispered, my face burning. I didn’t think I was getting enough oxygen. “It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Fine, then,” Míra hissed from behind me, and Ilyan’s panic slapped against my gut. “You won’t have to.”

“No!” Ilyan yelled, and my magic rushed to my heart as the barrier broke, as the reason for Ilyan’s panic became clear.

I turned, expecting a battle, knowing she couldn’t win against the two of us. However, there was nothing except the red-tinted grin of her smile and the sound of a faint pop. The girl pulled herself across the worlds, away from us, and into a stutter to who knew where.

As I stared at the now empty room, at Ilyan who stood as confused as I was, at Wyn who sat crying in the corner with Thom’s head in her lap, everything felt hollow.

I knew I should be scared about where she had gone. I knew I should care, but I couldn’t, not with Dramin’s hand still wrapped in mine. Not with the look of hopelessness and sorrow Ilyan was already fixing me with.

I turned back to my brother, my heart rate escalating further. Everything in my stomach beat and swelled and pulsed so much it was starting to hurt.

Healing magic wound throughout him, stitching skin back together and restarting organs, but I already knew it wasn’t enough. Even with magic, I doubted he could survive what had been done to him. His magic had been dead for months, just as he would be before the sun fully rose over the red-tinted sky.

“Joclyn,” Dramin gasped, his voice a scarce breath from under the blood filling his mouth. It trickled from the crease, and Ilyan wiped it away as he came to sit beside me, his leg pressing against mine.

“Uncle.” The word no longer seemed right, so I shook my head as I clung to his hand, leaning closer. “Brother, my brother, I’m here.”

The words were as strong as I could make them, knowing it was not enough. It didn’t say enough. It wasn’t loud enough. I wasn’t even sure he could hear me.

He stared past me, into the sky, as though I were nothing more than air between him and wherever he was going.

“You’re my brother,” I sobbed, trying so hard to get the courage to say what needed to be said. “I’m here … I’m … I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

I paused, everything closing up in my throat as I felt Ilyan’s arms wrapping around me, his head pressed against my shoulder.

I’m here, Jos. I’m right with you. His voice was calm, soothing, filling me from within. The words were simply for me, yet I thought they were meant for Dramin, as well.