Eyes of Ember (Imdalind Series #2)(26)

“I don’t wear jewelry, Ilyan,” I answered honestly, suddenly worried that he would buy me something.

“Which one?”

I scowled at him, unsurprised to find him smiling at me expectantly. I sighed before pointing absent mindedly at the board. Ilyan raised an eyebrow still trying to figure out which one I was talking about.

“I like the long board, Ilyan,” I clarified, looking away uncomfortably. “It reminds me of mine.”

“Sometimes I forget how much you have lost. People, loved ones, even objects. It’s all part of you.” Ilyan squeezed my hand, and I turned back to him as his fingers trailed over the jewelry lightly. They fluttered around the bracelets and necklaces before stopping on a small turquoise bracelet with stones flat against one another; it wasn’t jagged like the others.

Ilyan picked it up and held it in his hands, his eyes closed as if he was measuring something.

“Turquoise,” Ilyan began, “can draw out negativity. Did you know that?”

“No.” I was a little surly, but I didn’t like the idea of Ilyan buying me jewelry. And I had a bad feeling that was exactly what was going to happen.

“And this particular turquoise will help bring up feelings of love, and of family.” Ilyan looked up at the old woman who nodded her head in agreement, her beautiful face breaking into a smile.

“Your young man is right,” she said, her voice shaky and warm. I almost wanted to laugh right out at her comment. Ilyan was neither young nor mine. “That is Navajo turquoise, it will bind you to your family and to the ones you love.”

The old woman smiled knowingly at Ilyan, her face lighting up. I turned to bat her assumptions away but was stopped by Ilyan’s smile. My face instantly widening in surprise, Ilyan rarely smiled like that. I must have looked ridiculous, because Ilyan smiled happily at me.

“We’ll take it.” Ilyan held the bracelet underneath my wrist, his magic unclasping it and snaking it around me. I looked away nervously from his obvious use of magic to the old woman who was busy counting the money Ilyan had paid her with.

“Ilyan... I...” Ilyan pulled me away from the seller before I could argue more.

“I think it will help you, Joclyn. Trapped in rooms, hunted, people trying to betray you, running for your life,” he smiled, but it was sad, “I think you could use a little bit of a negativity release. With all that’s going on, you could use a stronger connection with those who care about you. It’s no long board, but I will replace what you have lost – as much of it as I can – when all this is over.” I could only nod at his words and the sincerity behind them.

I lifted my wrist up to look at the stones. They were pretty, but part of me wanted to take it off and give it back to the old woman. As much as I didn’t like the message of the stones, I could already feel my magic collecting around my wrist, seeping through the stones and then back into me. It did it of its own accord, whether I wanted it to or not. I smiled a bit before shrugging my hoodie sleeve over the bracelet, letting it disappear from view.

Ilyan continued to move down the street, his pace slow, but somehow more focused than it was before.

We reached the end of the street, the large cathedral now towering over us. Ilyan dragged me over to where another street vendor was selling empanadas, but my eyes never left the cathedral. The large church was raised up above the street level. Smoothly cut stone formed delicate arches that surrounded the beautiful stained glass window that sat directly above the door. It was breathtaking.

“The Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi,” Ilyan said as he placed a hot pastry in my free hand.

“It was built in the late 1860s. Back then, this city was made up of the Palace of the Governors and a handful of adobe homes. Seeing it like this makes me long for the old.”

I knew I shouldn’t be surprised, but I still was. Ilyan was being more open about his past than usual and it still disturbed me to be reminded of how old he was.

“So you lived here then?” I tried to keep my voice level.

“No, not here. But I did live in the church that was here before they built the cathedral. La Parroquia. It was more like a fortress than a church, but I still loved it.”

I turned and looked at him, his gaze never deviating from the large building in front of us. The picture of him in some religious get up did not fit in my eyes, but he had now mentioned living in a monastery when Ovailia was born, a church in France, and a cathedral in New Mexico.

“You and churches, I am beginning to see a theme. I would not have pegged you for the religious type.” I had seen the look in his eyes when he faced a fight, I doubted he could live without that for long.

“I’m not.” His answer was firm. He turned his head a bit to look at me.

“Then why all the churches?”

Ilyan looked away from me. He wasn’t happy or sad, simply distant.

“Have you ever been around very pious people, Joclyn?” I almost laughed at the thought, but kept it inside. The tone of his voice was far too serious for laughter.

“We stopped going to church after my dad left. He always insisted we go together. After he was gone, my mom didn’t want to go anymore. So we didn’t.”

Ilyan smiled a bit. His expression was almost understanding.

“I don’t remember a lot,” I finished, wishing he would look away from me.