Burnt Devotion (Imdalind, #5)(90)

“It is the suggestion that we gather as many of the injured as we can, bring them here to be healed and trained, and then give them the option to move forward with us. To help us fight for the freedom that is not only ours, but will be theirs, as well.”

Ilyan had barely finished before the resounding clap echoed through the room. His face broke out into a wide smile at what I quickly understood to be a simple task. If I had to guess, I would say the simplicity was often anything but.

It’s a good plan.

Too bad…

“Thank you, my friends,” he whispered, the heartfelt words rumbling over me. “Now, for the true purpose that we have gathered in this council.”

He paused, his lips breaking into a wide smile as he walked toward where I stood, his look thankfully not reserved for me, but for that same powerful woman the little boy still stared at.

Ilyan extended his hand gently, his long fingers reaching toward her for only a moment before her delicate hand was placed in his, the touch soft as he pulled her onto the platform and into the middle of the space.

“As many of you know, I have found my mate, and the ceremony has already been performed. It is for that reason I bring before you Joclyn DeSpain, daughter of Sain, the first of the Drak; bearer of the kiss of the Vil?; and a child chosen by them as my mate, my companion, and your Queen.”

He spoke to those around him, but his eyes never left hers, a deep, desperate longing in his gaze so deep that it moved through me with such an emotional wash I was having trouble breathing.

“Do you accept?”

You are a fool, son.

And here I was, beginning to accept you as my child.

You are no better than the rest of them.

I clapped my hands above my head as all the others did, letting the voice wash over me as if it was nothing.

It was nothing.

The sound of my clap was one booming noise adding to all the others, one simple movement sealing my agreement of Joclyn and placing her as my queen.

For one brief moment, the joy in her face blanched, her skin paling as she took a step closer to Ilyan, her hand wrapping tightly around his.

I smiled at the movement, that same warm balloon swelling within me.

I turned toward Risha without thinking, my stomach twisting at what I had done, but more at what I was now seeing.

Standing behind Risha in the shadows against the wall was Sain, his dark hair falling over his eyes as he mumbled to himself.

Mumbled.

The same way I had as my father’s voice had tormented and dragged me down into insanity.

Now, there stood Sain, his hands writhing one over the other, his head pressing into the cool stone as he mumbled to himself. As he fought the same demons I had.

He had mentioned before that he knew what I was going through. That he knew what I had battled, but it was in the past. It was something he had already defeated. Yet, seeing him there, the way he moved, the way he mumbled…

He was battling them now.

He always has been.

My father was fighting for control of him, too.

Who’s to say I don’t already have that?

I might have won, but I was seeing another fight right in front of me.

And seeing it from this angle, I wasn’t sure how I had won.

Or if he would.

He won’t.





SAIN





Twenty-Three


I shouldn’t be here.

Not after everything I had heard. Not after everything I had been present for. I knew what they wanted of me. It was the same thing they always wanted, the same thing I had given them for years.

My mind was full of it.

Of information.

Information I knew they could take with only a few words.

I should leave, focus on my own agenda. On the plans I had spent thousands of years carefully weaving together, manipulating the sights and magic of my progeny in order to accomplish.

This choice could upset all of that.

Yet, I stood, shrouded by the dark of night, the moon a blood red orb as it glimmered through the powerful shield that shrouded the city.

The golden gate.

The archaic arches that were built in the 1300s as religious zealots created towers to their gods. The popular tourist attraction was now smeared in blood, the bodies of tourists littering the ground around us, forgotten souls who had passed before their magic, their true ability, had taken hold.

It was pathetic in a way.

It had been less than a month since I had walked through the gilded archway, since I had guided Wynifred away from the massacre, from Edmund and his ridiculous plan of control.

I had told him years ago that his goals would only lead to ruin. As much as he relied on the manipulated sights I handed him, however, he hadn’t listened.

It was better for me, for what I wanted.

Now, I only needed to find a way to continue to use Ovailia and her father for my benefit while they thought they were getting what they needed.

I had done it for years. I would do it again.

I would do it for those I love, to protect them from the future I saw, the one I would change in order to control the magic in a way that would only benefit them. They would see what I had done soon enough.

They would be grateful for it.

This choice was another step on my path. I wouldn’t deny the pull I felt deep inside.

It had awakened when I had held Ovailia as an infant in my arms and again when the bond with her had been completed.