Burnt Devotion (Imdalind, #5)(30)

“But Dramin would.” It had been so long I hadn’t expected a response, and that one was the last one I would have wanted to hear.

“Dramin? Your son?” The words were little more than a squeak.

“Yes.”

If I had been confused and lead-filled before, it was nothing compared to now. The last time I had seen Dramin was in a cave in Africa, a cave I had filled with the blood of his children, his grandchildren. I had slaughtered them all. I had walked through the pools of their blood in my attempt to reach him, the hem of my dress soaked with the deep red magic that had once held the power of sight. I would have gotten him, too, if his mate hadn’t flung herself before me. Before I could finish her off, he had already gone.

“You are aware of my tie with Dramin?” I could barely get the words out.

“I am. After all, it’s the same tie you have with me. You killed all of my progeny, as well.”

Let’s just add to the dread, why don’t we?

I could barely breathe. I hadn’t thought of that before, but now that it was out in the open, it was all I could see. This old man who had led me out of Imdalind, whom I had traveled with for months, had his kind massacred by me.

“I still talk to you.”

I stared at him, my eyes narrowing as I tried to figure out what to say, tried to understand what he meant and what the peculiar look he was giving me was. It wasn’t the anger I would have assumed. Not the heartache, either. Something was there that I didn’t understand, though. Something that was fueled with an emotion I knew all too well, the same one that had fueled so many of the murders I had committed.

Greed.

Although why I saw it in him right at that moment, I wasn’t sure.

“Before you ask, he is here, and while currently unconscious, he will be waking soon. You should ask him then.”

I nodded once, understanding finally dawning on me. He still had them, too. These dreams, these T?uhas, whatever they were. They plagued him as they did me.

I was sure they plagued Dramin, as well.

Even if the son of the man before me didn’t have the answers, at least he would have a clue.

I only needed to ask him.

I only needed to face another of my past sins.

And I would.





Seven


I could tell by the look in Joclyn’s eyes as we stood in the dimly lit room she shared with Ilyan. I could tell by the confusion that stared back at me as we stood face to face as though we were preparing to duel. She didn’t recognize me.

She didn’t see me, not in the way she knew. Even though I was standing right in front of her.

I pushed my hands into the pockets of Thom’s leather jacket, my eyes unwavering from the confusion in her wide, grey eyes, the silent plea for understanding going relatively unnoticed.

I had come to this room the moment I had felt the swell of Edmund’s magic as I scanned the forest. I had come to report to the king, to Ilyan, in the same way I had for centuries when I had worked as his spy. It had never crossed my mind that Joclyn would be the one to open the door, that she would be sleeping next to him and would see the other side of me, the side that neither of us had known existed when we had first met.

She still didn’t.

I had tried to tell her so many times before. A few days ago, as we lay in the feathers that lined the floor of this room, I had been so close to telling her. However, her heartbreak had been too much. The demons Edmund had infected her with had made it so I didn’t trust how she would react. I didn’t want to put another burden on her plate; therefore, the words hadn’t come. They had stayed trapped in the feathers, and now it almost felt too late.

Joclyn stood in the middle of Ilyan’s room with the overly baggy pajama pants I was sure were Ilyan’s hanging on her hips, the dim light making her features seem darker. We looked at each other while Ilyan shuffled around that massive map of his as he processed the new information I had come to give him and Joclyn had confirmed. The magic in the forest had changed. Edmund might well be there. It was huge and frightening, but right then, that was the last thing on my mind. On Joclyn’s mind.

Right now, the question of who I was seemed like a much bigger demon.

I hadn’t seen anyone look at me like that for a while. I hadn’t seen that look of fear mixed with a disgust I could never understand. But now, seeing that same look coming back to me from someone I cared about, I got it.

I finally understood.

It was more than fear, more than confusion. It was the look you gave someone you did not like, someone who had hurt you. Before, it was a look that I treasured, because it meant I was striking fear in those I was about to kill, in those who were my subordinates.

It meant I was doing my job.

I never saw that look in Thom, because Thom liked who I was. And after, with Talon, I was a different person. I was happy, and for whatever reason, that joy spread. That was who Joclyn knew, that was who her best friend was. Unlike any time before, she saw what I truly was. She saw the real me. She saw the woman who struck fear and disgust. She saw the blood on my hands and the murder behind my eyes. She saw what people had seen for centuries, and she didn’t like it.

My best friend didn’t like it.

She didn’t like me.

I had hurt her.

I had hurt her by not telling her, by trying to protect her and giving her space to defeat whatever Edmund had done to her. What I had thought was support had only been betrayal.