Burnt Devotion (Imdalind, #5)(21)

I barely heard him.

“You love her?” My voice was my own, something that hadn’t happened in who knew how long. I could not bask in the small accomplishment, though. I could not even hope to retain it. I could already hear my father’s screams. I could already feel the pain pulling at my chest as the monster reawakened.

“Yes,” he whispered as he turned back to face me. “More than anything. Don’t you?”

The question was honest and rooted in a deep caring that I wasn’t sure I had ever witnessed in my life. The simple question kept me sane somehow. The way my brother sat before me, waiting for my answer, kept the incessant voice calm.

Kept me calm.

“I thought I did,” I finally said, grateful when his magic began to loosen, my tense muscles relaxing. “But now I am not too sure. Now everything seems broken. And I know she doesn’t love me. Everything has been shattered.”

I slid down the wall to sit before him, fully aware that, despite the fact that his magic was no longer pressed against me, it was still there, a protective barrier between us, keeping me restrained. Keeping both of us safe. I watched the shimmer in the air before I turned back to him, grateful to see much of his fire had left, though I could tell it was still there, right under the surface.

“Edmund did that.”

I could only nod.

“Our father does more than he should. But his meddling was foreseen by sight long before he ever dreamed of playing his little game of hearts and souls.”

He’s lying.

Can’t you see his lies?

Stop playing.

Kill him.

I twitched at the voice, pushing it out of my mind as I stared at my brother and let his words play on repeat in my mind.

It was an interesting way to put it—a game of heart and souls—but I guess, in a way, that was exactly what it was. My heart, my soul, had been shattered then bound in a knife like so many others. I wondered if Joclyn’s soul was locked inside the blade, as well.

That was his game.

He who holds the blade, holds the key, much like Sain and his fountain of magic.

My eyes darted to Sain at the thought. His green eyes were hooded with some secret that I knew at once he would never divulge.

It was a look I had seen before.

He had seen something.

I wanted to ask, but something told me that, even if he chose to share this particular sight with me, he wouldn’t, not with Ilyan here. Especially not after what I had said about his kind moments before.

I exhaled shakily as Ilyan moved closer to me, his shield flexing and moving. While I was still completely shrouded, he was able to move toward me with his hand extended out in a show of support and kindness.

As my brother.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, Ryland. I am sorry for your pain and anguish.”

“So am I.” I took his hand slowly, fully aware his powerful shield was between us, preventing any and all skin contact. I knew it was needed, but still, the lack of trust hurt. Even though I had escaped that dungeon, even though I was fighting the voice, I was still a prisoner. I probably always would be.

“I wish I could take it all away, but if I have learned anything in my long life, it is that we are all only a piece of a bigger puzzle, and each piece is placed where it is for a reason. I believe soon that reason will be made clear to us.”

“Because of Jo … Joclyn?” I could barely get her name out without slamming my head against the wall in agony. He wanted me to, anyway.

Kill him!

Kill them all!

They hurt you!

They lied to you.

No.

“Yes.”

“My daughter has a bigger part to play than even she realizes at this point, than any of you do,” Sain said as he looked at Ilyan.

Ilyan pulled his hand away from mine as he met the old man’s gaze. He looked at him, his brow furrowed as he contemplated what to say, before turning back to me. Whatever beast had been turning the gears in his head was forgotten.

“You are my brother, Ryland. And my promise to help you still stands. What can I do to make you well?” He spoke in Czech, the familiarity of the language almost enough to incite fear, but where my father had always used it in retribution, in hatred, Ilyan used it honesty, the familiar words sounding like any other to me. “What can I do to help you?”

I stared at him, trying to decide what I could say, and most of all, if I could really trust him, despite the screaming that was moving through me.

I knew I could.

More than that, I knew what I needed. After all, I had said it before I had been so absorbed with getting Joclyn back, with making her “mine,” that I had forgotten the very basics of what I did need.

“I want to be myself again. I don’t want to hear our father’s voice in my head.”

“I can bind your heart as Thom told me Wyn did for you, but it will only be a crutch. Binding your memories will be stronger, but again, it may only set you back. You must fight the control our father has you under if you wish to be free completely.”

As I looked at him, the thought of the soul’s blade moved through me. While binding my heart sounded like a gift, the memory of the clear mind still fresh, I knew he was right. It would only cover the problem. I wanted to be free, though. Completely.

To do that, I would need my soul to be whole, exactly as Sain had said. I glanced at him, his eyes drifting from black to green as he stared into me, the intensity of his gaze making me sure he could see exactly what was on my mind.