Eyes of Ember (Imdalind Series #2)(27)

“Pious people, those who are truly religious, are amazing creatures. I am almost convinced they are humans at their best. Now, mind you, I have seen some terrible things happen in the name of a God. Wars, conquests, sacrifices. But on the whole, at its very base, religion makes people better.”

“So, you believe in God then?” I asked.

“I believe in something. I am not sure if it’s God though. The stories of where I come from differ from yours. There is no Adam and Eve in my past.”

I turned toward Ilyan, taking a bite of the pastry he had given me. I hadn’t heard this story before and I was content to hear him tell it from the beginning. I gestured my pastry hand toward him, prompting him to continue.

“My kind, the Sk?ítek, guard the wells of magic. There is a place, deep inside the earth under Prague, where magic bubbles up in what can only be described as mud. We call these the wells of Imdalind.”

“Wait, what?” I asked, interrupting him. “That’s the name of Ryland’s family’s company.”

“Now you know where Edmund got the name,” he smiled. “It is Edmunds greatest desire to take control of the wells of Imdalind again.”

“Why? What would he do with them?” I asked, although I already knew it would be nothing good.

“Create a new race, destroy the world, stop the existence of magic, the possibilities within Imdalind are endless. Which is why those that are left of my kind are sworn to protect the wells of mud with our lives.”

“What has the mud done before? Besides hold magic I mean?”

“It was through this mud that the first of every kind was bred. We do not know where they came from, only that they woke with their legs in the mud, their lungs stinging with their first breath. They walked out of the mountain, and as each bonded with a mortal it awoke something inside of the mortals, their own magic. It is from the wells of Imdalind that all magic begins and ends.”

“How do you know that that’s what really happened?” I asked, holding in a laugh. The story sounded more like a legend than a history.

“Because we know who was there. The first of each of the holders of magic. The first of the Drak, the first of the Vil?s, the first of the Trpaslíks and the first of the Sk?íteks – my Grandmother, Frain.”

“Your Grandmother?” Would there ever be anything about Ilyan that wouldn’t surprise me?

“Yes, I have heard this story since the day I was born. My Mother and Grandmother would tell it to me at nights when our home was lit by candlelight. My Mother also told me as she lay dying from the loss of my Father’s magic.”

Ilyan turned away from me, looking toward the church, but I could tell he wasn’t seeing anything. I knew that look. I had been trapped in that look for months, trapped in my memories. I reached up and placed my hand on his shoulder. At my touch, he turned to face me.

“Which is how you knew what was happening to me, all those months ago?” He nodded once.

“But you would let me help you. My Mother let herself waste away.” He sighed heavily and my heart tensed. I knew exactly how he felt.

“I’m sorry.” I let my hand fall from his shoulder, not knowing what else to do.

“It was a very long time ago, Siln?.”

“I am still sorry.”

The silence between us stretched uncomfortably. I willed myself to look away from him, to ignore his warm hand wrapped around mine. I finished my food, shoving the wrapper in my pocket, and turned to him, unsurprised to see his unfocused eyes on something beyond me.

“So,” I began, desperate to end the silence and break Ilyan’s intense gaze. “If you believe that your kind came from this mud, do you believe there is a God too?”

“Not particularly,” he said, coming back to himself.

“If you do not believe in a God, then why do you spend so much time in churches?”

“Because of how humans act when their souls are so close to God. They care for one another beyond how they would normally. They help, and support, and love one another. It’s amazing to watch.”

“You must think me an uncaring, hateful person then.” I shifted my weight, wishing I could remove my hand from his. He must have sensed my discomfort because the heat from his hand around mine increased as his magic pulsed.

“Not in the least. You are one of the most caring, brave people I have met in quite some time. You willingly risked everything to save Ryland, handled ultimate losses with grace, and...”

I snorted and Ilyan stopped to look at me, his forehead furled in confusion.

“I wasn’t graceful, Ilyan. I refused to move and then practically let my body kill me.”

“But you didn’t,” Ilyan said.

“Because you’re stubborn,” I said, shoving our entwined hands into his chest. Ilyan smiled, I glowed assuming I had won.

“Not as stubborn as you.” My mouth dropped, odd clicking noises coming from my throat. Ilyan laughed deeply, the happy sound ricocheting off the people around us. Several people looked toward us, smiling at the exchange. I could only guess what was on their minds. First date, young love, newly married, and it got worse from there. I instinctively sunk into my sweater, pulling the hood up around my face with my free hand. Ilyan’s laugh stopped but his smile remained.

“When are you going to stop hiding?”