Burnt Devotion (Imdalind, #5)(15)

My eyes snapped up in wonder, moving from the shadowed markings on the hand that held mine to the girl who leaned against Thom in such a weakened state she could barely keep her eyes open.

“Wyn?” I asked, the steadiness of my voice sounding unfamiliar to me.

“That’s how,” she breathed, the words taking far more effort than should be necessary.

Her eyes fluttered open from where she leaned against Thom, a playful smile dancing on her face at what she had accomplished, despite the fact that the risk and danger to her had been great.

“I used to do this to Cail,” she gasped, squeezing my hand. “Bind his heart with a shield. It kept Edmund out of the ?tít and his mind. It gave him freedom. You feel it, don’t you? Free?”

I could only nod. “A ?tít? Is that what he did to me?”

“No,” Sain answered, his voice sounding louder without the competition inside of me. “What he has done to you is much more dire. You are his son. You already have his blood, so he can control you without such complex methods. You will never escape what he has done to you. You must become stronger than it.”

My stomach dropped at the accusation, a million memories of what I’d had to endure as his son flooding me. Every beating, every snub, every moment I was ridiculed. Perhaps it was because I didn’t want it to be true. I didn’t want him to ‘own’ any more of me. I didn’t want Sain to be right.

Even though he was.

“But, right now … Everything is clear … like when we were in the waiting place.”

“Yes, but even in the waiting place you were plagued by the monsters Edmund placed inside your soul. Wyn has only shielded your soul from the monsters, but the memories and the emotions are still there. She has just made it easier to decipher them.”

I knew he was right. Even though the voice was gone, even though I felt more of what I used to be, I wasn’t whole. I still had the memories of Joclyn hunting and hurting me, memories of a distorted version of me that he had used against me from the moment he had broken my mind, when he had begun to take ‘me’ away.

Everything tensed as the memories began to grow, weighing me down until it was hard to breath.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I knew Sain was right. I had more to defeat than the voice. I had to rise above what Edmund had done to me from the beginning.

What he had created.

What I had become.

None of this was me.

I was dangerous.

My breath heaved with a shake as I let the shield cover me, savoring the freedom of my mind for as long as Wyn could give me the gift.

“Don’t give into it, Ry,” Wyn said, her voice shaking as I felt the shield begin to slip, her exhausted magic retreating back into her.

I wanted to scream at her not to leave, but with one look, I knew there was nothing I could do to stop her. Besides, what little calm I had been given had been a lifesaver. Like a reset button, it had given me another chance to gain control of my mind.

I lay back against the wall as I prepared for the onslaught and steeled my mind against the voice that was coming. I promised myself I could defeat it, even if I felt as weak as Wyn looked.

The stone was strangely comforting as I huddled against it, pressing myself into it, wishing that somehow I could fall asleep and escape the voice for a while along with the acute longing to attack and hunt Jos down.

This much anger, this much hatred wasn’t me. Well, it didn’t used to be. Not before my father took control. Not before he changed me.

Before him I would have done anything for Jos. I sacrificed myself for her, because of the carefree life she gave me.

He had taken that all away.

I pressed my body into the stone again, right as it began to shake, right as the feral sounds of a never-ending pain echoed through the abbey, rippling through my bones until it was as if I felt it for myself.

I knew exactly what it was.

“What was that?” Wyn asked, her voice sounding half exasperated and half fearful as the building shook underneath us again.

“Ilyan,” was all I said, grateful when my brother’s name on my tongue didn’t insight another onslaught of anger and fear. Though the voice screamed within me, I ignored it, at least for now.

“Ilyan?” Wyn asked, more in surprise than in question. “What happened? They couldn’t have been fighting, could they?”

“Nothing is perfect, Wynifred,” Thom grumbled from beside her. “If their porcelain chamber pot didn’t break soon, I was going to smash it against the wall. It’s about time they went at each other’s throats.”

Wyn nodded numbly as the yells continued, the abbey continued to shake and tremble with his pain. We sat there in silence, waiting for it to slow, waiting for it to calm. It never did, though. It only grew until my own heart began to ache with him.

“Shit storm or no, I am beginning to wish Talon was still here,” Thom said, his hand moving up and down Wyn’s arm as she flinched, the sound of her mate’s name causing her physical pain.

“I guess I better stop it before it gets to out of control.” Thom spoke as though it was the most unsavory thing in the world, a severe lack of disinterest making me question his intentions. Then again, as the room rumbled and yet another scream of pain and heartbreak roared around us, I guessed I could see why he wouldn’t want to go to his brother.