Burnt Devotion (Imdalind, #5)(83)

Of course, it hadn’t been without recourse.

It should have been easy. My father had built many of these caves; he knew where the well lay. Or at least, he had.

Unbeknownst to everyone, Ilyan had been working to expand and move the caves, changing the paths and trails in all the time that Edmund had been barred from them. Meaning, the information that was once only privy to Edmund and Ilyan was now only known by the poster child for good, himself.

My lips curled.

At least Ilyan was in the city. Even if the Vil?s weren’t able to take control of his mind and power, he would still be of use to us.

“They are above the clock.” My voice reverberated off the white, stone walls, the large acoustic space making the sound much louder than I had meant it to be.

Edmund remained hunched over, his hair falling over his eyes as he studied the diagram. His fingers drawing lines of magic as he attempted to ascertain the correct path to where he hoped the wells were.

“All of them?”

“I know for certain Sain and Wynifred have taken refuge there with Dramin, Thom, and Ryland.” The tap of my shoes moved in time with my words as I walked around the room, lifting what was once an elegant tunic with my toe. I remembered when the surfs had given it to Ilyan right after he had declared their debts paid.

An irritated scoff spilled from me at the disgusting memory. I would never understand why anyone saw him as a saint.

“But not Ilyan.” His eyes darted to mine for the briefest of seconds before settling back down on the model. The disappointment in that brief glance was so clear that I could almost feel his hand press against my spine.

I cringed against the fluid panic, straightening my back to face him.

The start of fear rolled through me, but I pushed it away. Fear was only a weakness that would get you killed. Sadness would only show the easiest way to dispose of you. I would do neither.

“Not that I saw, Father.” My voice was level as I stood before him, my confidence clear, but it still wasn’t enough to keep his rage at bay. It rippled down his back like a cat curling in preparation for attack.

My muscles tensed, but I did not move. I did not deviate my eyes from him. I was not a fool enough to do so.

“And why didn’t you wait to make sure my son had made it to the supposed safety with the others?” His voice was a growl as he rose to meet me, the depth of his hatred rolling through the room in waves of green.

“Wynifred ignited the city.”

Edmund jerked at my statement, his eyes wide with greed as his lips curled into a smile, the malice in his eyes seeping into me and igniting my own.

The gluttony grew, the desire for what he so desperately wanted coloring him along with the greasy smile that spread over his face. He walked toward me with that slow, calculated step he always had when he was plotting, when his mind was working far ahead of the cold, stone walls that held us.

I watched him move, my own greed growing, my own desire to see that magic in his hands swelling until I was regretting not having taken her then. With her power, it wouldn’t have mattered if we had Ilyan. With the fire magic, we could boil the stone down, and then Edmund could walk a straight path to the wells that held all the magic we needed to control the world.

“She used it again?” His voice was a snake that wound over my spine.

“Yes, Father.”

His smile grew, and this time, I stepped away. Foot falling over foot as I backed away from the fearful need that lined his face, an act that only fueled the desire that rampaged through him.

“The same as last time?”

“If she did the same, do you think I would still be standing here?” The words flew out without so much of a thought, the quick sass he had ingrained in me slipping out in one of the only places that it probably shouldn’t.

He blanched at my tone, the smile vanishing from his face before it returned, even more sinister than before.

My spine tensed at the rage that would follow my answer, the air in the room turning chill in expectation. Even the guards who surrounded us tensed, their eyes watching my father as he approached me, each impact of his foot against the floor resounding loudly in my ears.

“Tell me of Sain,” he snarled, his voice more of a warning than I would like to admit.

Even through the look, even through the fear he tried to instill in me, I stood tall, my eyes unwavering from his. At any other time, I might have tried to find my way out of the situation with flattery or lies, but this time, I had at least been able to give him what he wanted.

“It was as you said,” I whispered, careful to keep my voice low, to draw him into me with the news I had for him. “Sain has not escaped the bind you have on him, no matter how much he pretends to be free. Whatever you have done was enough, and he slipped. He slipped enough that I was able to find him before the attack began then incapacitate Thom and draw him back in.”

“So he is in love with you, then?”

“No,” I admitted, surprised to see his face fall.

My father prided himself on wooing and bedding women in record time, a skill that was passed on to none of his children. For whatever reason, he was not pleased with it, either. I had come close with Cail on his instruction, but the fool had died before I’d had a chance to complete the task. I still took his magic in the end.

“But his magic is still attempting to fuse with mine, something that I helped along. The possibility of a restored bond is too much for his weak energy to resist. Give it time, Father. He will feed into our hands, just as you wish.”