Eyes of Ember (Imdalind Series #2)(91)

“Sleep well, Jos.” I smiled at his use of my nickname before panic set in.

“Ilyan.” My hand shot out to grab his, desperate to stop him from leaving. “Will you stay with me, just for tonight? I don’t mean… but I need…”

I stuttered to a stop as Ilyan came back, his finger tip tracing the lines of my face.

“I know.”

My eyes began to droop again at his touch, at the gentle magical pulses that he weaved through my body. His finger left my face as he moved, my eyes opening as I watched him move to the foot of the bunk, his strong arms hoisting him up to settle near my feet.

“I will stay here, Joclyn. I want you to go to sleep now.”

I felt his magic grow in my shoulder, the strong energy moving through me as he put me to sleep. I tried to fight him for a moment before I gave in, letting the world of sleep, and the horrors that it held, take me.

“Good night my love.”





Twenty-Eight


IsolaSanta was a small tourist trap of a village in the high Alps of Italy. It consisted of one restaurant, a small hotel, and a few homes of those who worked in and ran the small businesses. Each house was made of grey brick, with the trademark alleys and small walkways that were signature of the renaissance. The whole thing was nestled up against a beautiful lake, the high mountains surrounding us on all sides.

It was beautiful. I looked around in wonder as I sat in one of the many outdoor tables of the town’s café and forced down my perfectly sautéed mushrooms, the crisp mountain air breezing through my hair, moving the clumps around awkwardly. I just hoped I didn’t smell too bad, I didn’t need too many of the tourists cringing in my direction. I had already had a few.

Ilyan looked around uneasily before his magic surged through me strongly. Even though I could now easily manage my own shield, Ilyan didn’t want to take the risk. I was grateful for it anyway. I could already feel my body ache from being outside the T?uha so long. I should have been calm and collected in this beautiful place, but instead I was so on edge I could barely function.

Ilyan looked as he did that night in Santa Fe. His hair was pulled back in a braid, and he had aviator sunglasses on. Although his jeans were a little ripped and dirty, it was nothing compared to the disarray I was in. My clothes were filthy, my hair greasy and matted, and I am sure I looked like a messy beggar that Ilyan had picked up along the way.

I kept placing the Ilyan in front of me against the image of him from the sight. With short hair, his jaw line popped more.

Ilyan caught me looking at him and I looked away quickly, causing him to laugh.

“What?” he asked, his accent rolling as he laughed.

I looked back to him, narrowing my eyes as I contemplated what to say. “I think I like you better with short hair.”

I spoke my mind and instantly regretted it. His eyes widened and a smirk played on his lips as he connected where my comment was stemming from.

“Not like before, not dark. You didn’t look good with dark hair.”

“But short…” he interrupted me, “like in the sight.”

I nodded and looked away. I don’t know why this conversation was making me uncomfortable, but it was.

“Maybe I will cut it for you,” he mused.

I ignored him and went back to staring at my mushrooms, contemplating if it was worth it to try and eat another. It had been decided this morning that it was imperative that Ovailia did not find out I was a Drak, which meant that I needed to at least attempt to force down normal food. But the taste was so bitter and the texture so gritty I was having trouble making it look like I was enjoying it.

“Are you okay?” Ilyan asked from beside me. He sat back in his chair sipping at his wine, his eyebrows arched in question.

“I’m swell,” I grumbled, poking at a mushroom. “You know, I am just chilling in a beautiful Italian village, dressed like a hobo, forcing down strange food, and waiting for your sister – who is, in a strange way, my step-mother – with the hopes of begging her to go save my boyfriend.” Ilyan’s smile at my discomfort grew. I scowled and ignored him.

“How did I ever eat this stuff?” I asked a little grumpily, but Ilyan only laughed deeper.

“I think they are delicious.” Ilyan leaned over the table and plucked one of the perfectly golden mushrooms from my plate. He plopped it in his mouth and smiled heavily, as he leaned back in his chair.

“Better than a hamburger,” Ilyan said with a smile.

“Ew.” I cringed at the thought, and Ilyan laughed harder. I rolled my eyes at him and forced another mushroom into my mouth.

“It’s kind of endearing, this new side of you.” Ilyan swirled the wine in his glass alluringly as he leaned in, his back arching him forward.

“Why? Because I don’t eat meat now?”

“Well, there is that. But it’s everything, all of it. How strong you are, how confident, how powerful.” I cringed. “You’re amazing, Joclyn.” My heart thumped into a restart, I ignored it.

“At least you don’t think it’s creepy. The last thing I need is for you to think I’m some kind of freak.”

Ilyan reached forward and grabbed my hand, his thumb rubbing over the ridges on the back.

“Never, Joclyn.”

“Well, aren’t you two cozy.” I jumped at Ovailia’s voice, my aches surging through me.