Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(8)

“I cannot feel anything within the void, but that does not mean it is empty. We have all seen Edmund do worse,” Ilyan announced, pulling me closer to him. “I need Joclyn and Ryland to meet with the children to see what information they can glean, what Joclyn can find.”

“Pass the eye-gouger,” Ryland grumbled, the same darkness taking over his eyes again. “Not that I have anything against this plan, but do you really think it’s wise, Ilyan? You know what Edmund’s magic does to me.”

“To both of us,” I added with a grumble.

“And the plot thickens,” Wyn said with a smile, throwing her arm around Ryland and pushing the very shocked Risha out of the way. “I think I need to be there, too, Ilyan. You know, for moral support.”

“As far as I see it, Wynifred, you are still on probation, so don’t push your luck.” Ilyan’s voice was a snap, but Wyn didn’t seem to mind.

She waved him off, her eyes smiling as she turned toward Risha, who was obviously not amused with her antics.

“I rescue the king from a deadly corpse army, and this is my thanks? I might be as despised as Sain made Joclyn out to be. No offense.”

“None taken,” I said.

“Wynifred,” Risha began, her voice hard as she attempted to hold the same power Ilyan held over my somewhat out of control best friend.

Wyn looked at her as though she were a weird teacher’s pet.

“It’s time you listened to your leader.”

“Why? Is he going to assimilate me or something? Because I am pretty sure he knows that won’t work.”

It was all but impossible to hold back a snicker, especially with Ilyan’s hidden laugh echoing inside my head.

His fingers pressed into my back. I have told Risha before not to play with fire …

Maybe she has to get burned first, I replied, watching Wyn and Risha engage in some sort of epic staring contest, only to have my focus pulled away by familiar broad shoulders.

“Joclyn.” Ryland’s voice was a reverberation that pulled me past the dark and right to him, the emerging cat-fight forgotten. His rugby muscles twitched as his lips pulled into a half-smile. “You ready for this?”

I stiffened. “Can you ever be ready for something like this?” I tried very hard to ignore the way my spine had instantly stiffened. It wasn’t something Ilyan was going to ignore.

Ilyan stepped beside me, towering over his brother and me as he pulled me against him again. “Just keep those pretty eyes where they belong, and I think we will all be happy.”

“Agreed,” Ryland responded far too quickly. Luckily, Ilyan chose to ignore it.

“I need you to investigate the ?tít. See if it is, indeed, a ?tít and whose magic is controlling it.”

I nodded once at Ilyan’s request. It seemed simple enough, though I already knew it wouldn’t be.

“Ryland knows Jaromir well enough that he should be able to put them at ease. Find out as much as you can … See if you can.”

“So, as much info as possible,” Ryland recapped, tapping his fingers against his hip bone as he mentally counted. “Keep the kids calm, check for magic, and Joclyn can do her Drak mumbo-jumbo.”

“It’s not mumbo-jumbo, Ry,” I interjected.

He opted not to hear me.

“Oh! And not killing each other,” he continued, the afterthought sitting in my gut like a stone. “Definitely cannot kill each other.”

“That would be preferable.” Ilyan’s fingers tightened against my waist.

Don’t worry, Ilyan.

“I promise not to kill you,” Ry said directly to me, his face twisted in an odd humor.

“I promise not to lose control and make friends with rats.” I couldn’t help it. Try as I might to get the words out with a straight face, I didn’t quite make it. The sound of my laugh pulled the focus from the bickering old ladies, and Ryland’s own chuckle followed behind.

Ilyan looked concerned, his face contorted in a frown as he pulled the memory out of my head, his concern and sadness attempting to drown me.

“Perhaps Wyn was right,” Ilyan said. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

Everything will be fine, I reassured him, the tiniest bit of self-doubt still trying to move into a paralyzing fear. However, I wouldn’t let it. Even Ilyan’s sudden worry wasn’t enough to let me second-guess myself. If anything happens, I can probably subdue him and put on a puppet show for the kids before you get there.

“A puppet show, huh?” Ilyan taunted, the worry fading away and making room for the smothering pride I was so used to from him. “Like Punch and Judy?”

I was lucky to get the reference, especially with the way looking at him was making my head spin, my stomach swirling pleasantly.

“Yes, but without all the violence.”

My lips extended into a wide smile as I lifted myself onto my tiptoes. His eyes danced as I pressed my lips to his, his arm winding around my back to pull me against him. He held me there as he deepened the kiss, tugging the long ribbon in my hair to lift my chin toward him.

“Excuse me,” Ryland snapped, my stomach tying itself up into immediate knots. “I’m standing right here.”

I had obviously forgotten.

Ilyan, on the other hand, had not.