Burnt Devotion (Imdalind, #5)(51)

His hand was frozen on the head of the creature he held. The monstrous thing still lashed, even though Edmund’s focus was far away from where we stood in the ash-filled debris of Rioseco.

“So, he has filled his body with that poison, has he?”

I said nothing. I only waited as the earth continued to burn, the smell of soot and flame growing as his eyes focused far away.

He paced away from me in a movement that could have been perceived as calm, the gears in his mind turning at an almost audible level.

“Does he have sight?” he asked after a moment, his body whipping toward me as his eyes flashed with energy and need. “Can he tap into the sights of Draks as you can?”

“Not that I can see, Father.” I tried to ignore the irritation at his suggestion. It had taken me over a hundred years of work to master that ability after my father had placed the mud within my body. I doubted Ilyan could do it after only a few days and a little bit of water. He might be powerful, but I refused to believe he had an ability even close to that.

“But I believe Joclyn can…” Any thought of what I had been about to say was wiped from me with the look my father fixed on me.

My heart accelerated in both fear and expectation, the burn increasing as the tempo did.

“Joclyn can what?” he snapped, the anger in his voice the same every time the girl was spoken of.

“I believe…” I began, careful to choose my words as I steadied myself, “that Joclyn can “see.” I believe she has inherited her father’s ability, as you assumed.”

My disgust at the admission grew as his did, my lips twisting into a snarl along with his, my heritage shining through as I stood beside my father, his malice twisting through me the same way it always had.

“There is more.” I didn’t think I could have kept the disgust out of my voice if I had tried. When Edmund made no move to look at me, I continued, my heart rate accelerating in both disgust and anticipation. “My brother has bonded himself to the brat. She wears the délka vedení královsk.”

He froze at the admission, his eyes unwavering from in front of us, before he began to laugh. The sound was deep and rich as it echoed through the barren wasteland. The servants who cowered around him backed away slowly as the depth of his anger rippled in a sound that should have been joyful.

The marriage of his eldest son.

However, his joy was full of wicked manipulation.

Anticipation of what was to come swelled through me.

“So he has chosen his queen. I would like to see how long he plans on keeping her around.”

He spun to face me, more of his hair coming loose from the tight hairstyle he always kept, the curls falling over his eyes in such a way that he only looked more mad, as if the insanity he kept within himself was about to explode.

I met his gaze head on, the pain of the controlling poisoning lessening somewhat as my body tensed in expectation.

“I will forgive this … travesty … that you have inflicted on us, Ovailia. But we must play our pawns in a much wider net if we wish to win, yes?”

“Yes, Father.”

He smiled at my assent, the charcoal beneath his shoes crunching with each step as he approached me, the wicked creature he held in his hands growling with a feral sound that twisted through me. It was the sound of pain and eagerness, as if he knew what was coming.

A flinch shook my torso at the realization, the need to plea for commiseration strong.

I wouldn’t let my weakness show, though—not to him, not to anyone.

“We will continue with the attack on Prague as planned.” His voice was hard as it carried around us, the cowering peasants slowly righting themselves as they prepared for his instruction. “Send out word to begin closing off the city. I don’t want any mortal coming in or out. Cut off their power, their water, and shield them.”

One by one, the cowering Trpaslíks nodded in understanding, their bodies bowed as they ran away from their master across the charred earth to do his bidding.

Fear I had felt only moments ago faded into an exhilarating anticipation.

“Are you sure it is wise?” I asked cautiously, expecting the scold that would come from my impertinence. “Ilyan still lives. Joclyn is healthy and well from what I could tell. Everything could be for naught.”

“Or I can destroy them as I do all others. Over a million of my little pets descending on the city, and in the middle are Ilyan and his broken subjects.” He laughed at the image, his joy feeling as infectious as the thunder that clapped above us, the sound deep and low as if the earth was screaming at what had been decided, at what was going to happen.

There was no way Ilyan could stop it. There was no way he could survive it. He would be bitten like all the others, and if he was … He would become little more than Edmund’s puppet at that point, just like everyone else the nasty little creatures would infect. Edmund’s army, all of the magic under his control. It was only days away.

Finally, the golden boy was right where he was meant to be.

I couldn’t stop the smile.

“Are you sure it will work? We don’t even know if that is where they are going.”

“I know,” he said with a smile. “Sain has infected the sight, and Ilyan will do anything to protect that pathetic city he loves so much. He doesn’t want me to control Imdalind, child. I know that is where he is going.”