Burnt Devotion (Imdalind, #5)(55)
He lifted his hand to run down the side of my face and weave the strands of hair that had come loose back into place.
He said nothing. He didn’t need to. I could hear it all as his emotions swelled and grew, and his thoughts ran through me. I could feel his love, his pride, and more than that, I could feel his eager anticipation to introduce me to the city that in so many ways was mine, as well.
It was what could be on the other side of the doors that scared him.
Ilyan began walking again without a word, everyone following silently behind as if we were being pulled by a string. The anxiety that moved off Ilyan filled the cave with a tense pressure that stifled the conversations that had been going on only minutes before—talk of past lives, and relationships, and Drak folklore and traditions.
Tennis shoes squeaked, leather soles snapped, and all I could hear was the thunder of my heart, the echo of Ilyan’s, and a gentle buzzing sound that had begun to grow from somewhere before us.
Another warm breeze moved over us as a tall line of light seeped across the stone, the warm color dim as it stretched into the darkness high above us. The light grew brighter with each step we took, spreading over stone as though someone had captured the sun and drawn a line with it down the side of the cave, one straight staff that moved from the towering ceiling to the grimy floor.
I opened my mouth to ask about the light, only to have Ilyan’s memories flood me, a barrage of recollections of the doors opening again and again, revealing the antiquated stone court behind it. The images flowed through him as I tried to understand how doors and a cave fit together and where the light came into play.
I needn’t have bothered, the line of light erupted in brightness that flooded around us, revealing massive stone panels that grew from the stone. Light seeped through them in a beam of brilliance that shone over our battle worn party, showing all of the scars and bruises more clearly than we had ever seen them.
My shoulders tensed into a ridged line as the gates grew, the massive panels stretching farther than I could reach on either side. If it wasn’t for the light that moved through the gap between the colossal slabs, I probably wouldn’t have even recognized them as doors.
The stone walls of the cave moved from ragged, uneven terrain to that of smoothly carved designs so I couldn’t even make out a hinge. For all I knew, they wouldn’t even open at all, despite my wanting them to.
Ilyan left my grasp as he moved away from me, and everyone frozen in place as we stared at the handsome gateway.
Designs of old medieval peasants danced against the heavy lines and gothic archways that had been carved into the stone. The intricate divots swaying to imagined music as the bobble of light that floated above our heads reflected onto them. It was a million years of history carved into the stone, a million years of Ilyan’s history, of magic’s history, and now of mine.
The pace of my heart increased with each slap of Ilyan’s steps against the stone, his body hesitant as he moved toward the stroke of light that leaked between the doors. All the while, the babble of what I could only assume to be people flowed through the heavy panels and filled the once silent cave with noise.
No one dared breathe as Ilyan pressed himself against the doors, his body tense as he looked between the narrow gap. He stood, framed by the sliver of light, the pure brightness blinding as his body diffused it over all of us, illuminating the cave in its brilliance.
My chest ached as my heart beat, and I searched Ilyan’s mind and magic for clues. The breeze moved through us one last time, the long slender ribbon that ran through Ilyan’s braid reaching back to me as if it couldn’t stand to be away. My hand reached up on instinct, my fingers wrapping around the long, golden strand and holding it against my skin.
Ilyan, I whispered to him.
His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly before he turned from the door. His jaw was set in a powerful line as he looked between each of us then finally settled his gaze on me, his magic surging once as his eyes flashed with menace.
“Everything is calm,” his voice rumbled through the cave as the breeze shifted through the door, tugging at the ribbon I held in my hand, but I wasn’t ready to let go. “That doesn’t mean it will be safe. I need to know if Edmund is close. I cannot assume he has stayed in Spain.” His eyes held mine as his thoughts overran the words he spoke—the anger at Sain’s lies, the fear over what it could mean, broken sights and mislaid trust.
Knowing the city was safe should have brought calm, but it didn’t. It couldn’t. Not with the new unknown we faced. If the attack hadn’t happened yet, when would it? What trap were we walking into if there was one at all?
“If he’s stayed in Spain, then I’m about as desirable as a popcorn fart,” Wyn scoffed with a laugh.
My eyebrows rose as I tried to decipher the words that had leaked from her. She didn’t seem to care. She only rolled her eyes at me before looking back to Ilyan, her jaw tightening as an old magic came over her.
“I’ll find him.”
I didn’t dare move as Wyn’s magic swelled and grew before it moved through the floor beneath me, the heat burning the soles of my feet again.
I stood still in the darkness of the cave, my shoulders tight and taut as I looked from Wyn to Ilyan, watching the way his muscles rippled with a fear that was infecting me as the babble outside only grew. I could tell in the way his magic pulsed through me, his emotions carried on its back like little, black boats of warning.