Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(85)

“I will always be your sister.”

I squished my face together in an attempt not to let the tears find a way past, in an attempt not to sob and cry like a pitiful little girl. Regardless, the sounds came out. The heartbreak bled from me, anyway. All I could do was sit there and cry.

I didn’t even hear what Ryland said as he placed his handkerchief over my brother’s face. I couldn’t hear beyond the wind that roared around us and tried to carry me away. I couldn’t hear beyond the sobs that racked my body.

They grew inside of me, swelling and growing into a pain I could no longer hold back, a pain I didn’t want to feel anymore. I didn’t want to. I let all of the anger, all of the pain, and all of the loss go in a crippling despondency that escaped from me in a scream so loud and feral everyone around me jumped.

I screamed as I clutched Dramin’s hand. I screamed as I clawed at his arms. I screamed as I tried my hardest to shake him awake, knowing that it wouldn’t work and not caring.

I clutched at his clothes, at his dead, lifeless arms. Everything was cold and stiff and uncomfortable and not him anymore. Not him ever again.

He was gone.

There was nothing left.

I cried so loudly and so hard I could barely move. I held on to Ryland and Wyn as they flanked me, holding me, trying to calm me.

It was no use. The heartbreak grew as I felt Ilyan’s magic surge, the earth reacting to it, and the soil before us shifted and moved as it began to swallow Dramin whole.

The tears kept coming, and I tried to reach him, but he was already being swallowed by the dirt. He was already leaving.

He was going, and I couldn’t go, too.

I couldn’t.

But I wanted to.

I wanted him to come back.

Wyn and Ryland tried to hold me back as I lunged for him, part of me needing to claw him out and part of me needing to follow.

I had done this to him. I needed to make it better.

I could make it better.

It was the only thing that was left, that and tears. I didn’t even know what was going on around me anymore. I could feel hands against my arms. I could hear pleadings in the air around me. But the next thing I knew, there was only dirt, and my magic was angry, and I was angry, and my magic surged to the surface as I screamed and Wyn grabbed me, trying to help me.

Our magic reacted, and everything went white.

But not the white of the sight I had pulled everyone into before. It was the white of the explosion I had seen outside of the cathedral, the blast so bright and so hot that everyone’s shrieks rose to match mine. Everyone’s pain rose to match mine.

Everyone was as trapped in it as I was.

It was then I realized who those two figures I had seen in the explosion of my sight were and why this moment was so cemented within our timeline.

As the explosion began to fade, as the cries of pain began to lessen, as the heat of the blast began to subside, I opened my eyes.

I opened my eyes to a beautiful, blue sky and to snow blowing over us all.





SAIN





21





The smell of dirt and blood mixed with the scent of sweat and desperation in a way that was intoxicating. It lingered in the air and dripped against my skin in tiny pricks of energy, each one infecting me… awakening me.

Of course, I was positive it had more to do with what was coming than the two women below me who were currently pulling at each other’s hair, a move that would normally insight cheers of glee in the crowds.

Only a few clapped their hands.

A coup was moments away. I could feel it in the pinpricks of my sight, feel it in the eagerness of the crowd, their attention half-focused on the battling women in the middle of the mud-filled pits. Their eyes constantly darted to me then darted to the large door inset into the floor of the arena.

Even if I hadn’t seen what was coming within sight, I would have been able to guess. They gave themselves away.

Foolish Trpaslíks.

Smiling to myself, I sat back on the many velvet pillows that Edmund had used as a throne, sipping Black Water like wine. Wine for the greatest of shows.

One woman clawed at the other before wrapping her teeth around the soft flesh of her neck and pulling. Red sprayed from her neck in a fountain as a large chunk of flesh was pulled from her like overcooked meat.

The comical reaction was enough to pull the audience’s attention from what was coming. With a roar, they cheered as the bleeding woman fell to the ground in a heap while the victor turned to me, her eyes dangerous as she smiled.

I laughed at the look, the raw danger she tried so hard to show me. Yes, she would be good in battle; I could see that at once. However, it was the warning behind her eyes that forced the laugh from my chest.

The threat was clear. She might as well have said, “You’re next, Sain.”

I laughed harder, the sound echoing around the stadium as her face fell.

Even the Chosen who were being forced to fight for their lives knew what was coming. They were ready to try to overthrow me as much as the Trpaslíks who were now looking at me with varying degrees of fear and confusion.

“I am quite ready for this attempted coup to begin,” I said underneath the laugh quiet enough that Ovailia could hear from where she sat, nestled against my legs, one tier of bleachers down.

Below me where she belonged, where she would die.