Burnt Devotion (Imdalind, #5)(52)

“Right into your hands.”

My father moved so close I could see the blood vessels in his eyes, the veins much darker than they should be, the lines casting a shadow over his face as he leaned into me. His thick fingers lifted my chin up, holding me in place, holding my gaze as he sneered.

“Right into the end,” he whispered, his breath moving over my face, and I tensed. “It’s time to show the mortals who really owns the world. To show them how safe they really are. All the magic in the world belongs to me. I was the first to bare the mark of the Chosen Child. I saved the world from fire. The wells of Imdalind chose me to create the magic of the world into something more, and I am going to make sure it stays that way.” He smiled as he stepped away, continuing to stroke the monster he held in his hands, his eyes scanning over the barren wasteland as if he was looking for something in particular.

“We may have failed today, but everything is working to our favor.” His voice was like honey, and I tensed for what was coming. “But that means we have to work harder. We cannot fail a second time. If we do, only death will await those who fail me.”

“Yes, Father.”

He nodded once at my obedience, his focus still away from me, lost in something I couldn’t see. The focus on his face made me uncomfortable as I stood straight and waited, careful to keep my body steady through the pain, my face fixed with the same powerful snarl I always held.

“I want you to start by taking Wynifred’s heart. I have had enough of that girl. And, if this is the true extent of her power, then it is mine. It should have been mine from the beginning.”

“Consider it done.”

It seemed simple enough, but the look on his face as he turned to me promised of more to come. I tensed again, keeping my eyes on him as he walked, lightning cutting through the sky behind him in a warning I neither heard nor cared about.

“I want Sain back,” he whispered, his voice making his desire sound deeper than I knew it to be. “I want you to lure him back to us, to you. I want you to connect with him and use his sight.”

“I don’t think that is possible.”

“Oh, it is possible.” The eagerness in his voice was communicable. “His mind is infected, and as much as he tries to deny it, he is too proud to admit he is damaged. He will not be able to escape the insanity for long. You need to create an opportunity to help him and bring him back to us. Arousal is a beautiful device.” His hand was hot as it rested against my cheek, his thumb hard as it pushed against my skin.

I knew the touch was in warning. The way he looked at me promised that. While I wanted to shy away from his touch, move away from the idea in general, I also knew I didn’t have a choice. I had to do this whether I wanted to or not.

I supposed it was best to make the most of it

“Yes, Father,” I said with a smile, the feigned eagerness cementing itself in place.

He smiled as I did, his eyes flashing as he pushed the tiny winged creature toward me, the instruction clear even without words.

I grit my teeth in understanding, careful not to let my displeasure shine through my eyes as I stripped my shirt from my body, turning away from him and presenting him with my bare back, the scarred flesh clear in my mind’s eye.

The raised ridge of the scar that ran the length of my spine along with the open flesh at the base, and riddled over all of it was the kiss of the monster my father held in his hands. Each one was an infection of magic as he worked to strengthen me and make me into the weapon he envisioned me to be.

That I wanted to be.

I held the black water in my body. My parents’ powerful magic had been infused and strengthened by his experiments, by the centuries of exercises and administrations.

I tensed as I heard him come closer, the ash crunching beneath his feet as the creature snarled, its claws digging into my flesh as it held on and bit down. Then I collapsed to the ground below me, the heat from the earth seeping into my body, the distant sight of the Draks flashing before my eyes.





JOCLYN





Thirteen


I stared at her through the dim, multicolored lights that lined the roof of the cave. The small, multicolored bobbles followed their owners as we all walked through the dank cavern. While bright, the cave was too massive, full of too many sharp edges, and the light only gave everything jagged shadows that shivered with life as we moved. It was something that wasn’t necessarily wanted as I stared at the girl who had become my best friend faster than I could have thought possible. The girl I had trusted with pretty much every secret and had let into my life in spite of all the insecurities my father had built up in me by disappearing.

Wyn.

Except it wasn’t Wyn, based on what she had told me.

Or maybe it was.

I wasn’t very sure anymore.

I didn’t know what to say.

I mean … What do you say?

It had been two days since we had found ourselves moving endlessly through the depth of the cave. Two days of awkward small talk and growing agitation. It wasn’t until a few hours ago, when she had finally started talking, that everything had begun to make sense, no matter how confusing it still was.

I had no doubt in my mind that everything she had told me was true. I knew it. I knew it because I had seen it in the way her personality had changed since I had removed the curse from her—the way she moved, the way everyone interacted with her, and the way she seemed so buddy-buddy with Thom.