Kiss of Fire (Imdalind, #1)(77)

It wasn’t just that though; at first, I thought they were costumes. Each shirt was longer and would probably fall to the knee on an average-sized man. Given the lengths and the style, I would almost call them tunics. The light colored garments were cut from fabrics that I could automatically tell where expensive. I fought the urge to remove the bags and run my hands over the soft silks, touch the fine jewels and golden ropes that adorned each one.

I hungrily ran my eyes over the glittering stones, the deep colored embroidery. The sleeves on each piece were exaggerated, but I couldn’t tell by how much, given how loosely they hung on the hangers. Claudius, Macbeth, Lear, Romeo. I could see these on-stage in a million different plays, but they weren’t fake, like costumes; they were shockingly real.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” I jumped at Ilyan’s voice, my hand clutching my chest.

“You scared me!” I spun to him and balked. While now soap-free, he was still only dressed in a towel. I inhaled sharply and stepped away, hoping he hadn’t noticed my reaction. His chest was strong and thick with sinewy muscles, but that wasn’t why I had reacted. The skin across his chest was criss-crossed with hundreds of raised scars, like he had been whipped.

I shook my head and looked away. My skin buzzed as my agitation returned, coming in full force again. I wasn’t as mad as I should have been to see him dressed in only a towel.

“Sorry, but you were looking at my private collection; you kind of deserved it,” he chuckled.

“Private collection?” I let the sheet fall over the clothes again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. They are not a secret after all. I wear them to council.” He handed me a belt he had removed from under a pile of undershirts; I would have never found it.

“Council? You mean the meeting you had yesterday?”

“Yes, it is an official meeting, so I have to look the part.” He grinned, but it looked more like a grimace.

“You mean, like King?”

His face fell. He turned from me and grabbed a few items of clothing off the many disorganized piles.

“Not ‘like’, Joclyn, just King.” He gave me a sad, little smile and disappeared behind a partition I hadn’t noticed due to the large amount of clothes draped over it.

“So, do I need to call you ‘My Lord’ now?”

He flung the towel over the side to join the clothes already there, and I instantly looked down at my feet, turning my back to him in embarrassment and frustration.

“That depends on a few things.”

“Like what?” I asked as he came out from behind the partition, still pulling his shirt over his head.

“Well, for starters, when we are together like this.” I blushed, which only caused him to smile. “Just the two of us, I mean. Or with Wynifred and Talon, then, no. But around anyone else, then, yes.”

I nodded my head in understanding, knowing I would mess it up.

“Why not Wyn and Talon?”

“Wynifred was not raised with us, so she forgets from time to time. Most of the time, I let it slide as she and Talon have undergone the Z?lství, but there are times when she probably needs to remember her place a bit more.”

“And Talon?”

“Talon and I grew up together; it would just be weird if he started calling me ‘My Lord’ and bowing all the time.”

“Were you not always king?”

“No, Siln?.” His answer was definite, and strangely final.

I shut my mouth, sure he didn’t want me to ask any more questions about his royal status.

“What does that mean?” I asked, hoping my change in subject was easy to follow.

“What?”

“Siln??” The word sounded odd on my tongue.

He looked at me quietly, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“It means, ‘little one’.”

I only nodded at him. What an odd nickname.

“Now, what do you say to a little bit of training for that newly awakened kouzlo of yours?”

“Training?”

“Yes, that buzz in your fingertips? I think it’s dying to get out.”

I looked at my fingers; it seemed silly that I hadn’t realized exactly what it was before.

“It’s…” I stopped mid-sentence, the proper words not finding the right place.

“It’s your magic, Joclyn. Perfectly centered and dying for you to learn to control it.”

I looked up at him, stunned; the buzzing grew a bit at Ilyan’s sly half-smile.

“I think it’s waited long enough, don’t you?” He left the closet quickly; I padded after him in bare feet, so that I could keep up. He nodded to the guard and kept moving. I finally caught up to him as he opened a large door that led outside.

“Now,” he announced, “the real fun begins. What do you say to growing a tree?”

“Growing a tree?” I said, alarmed. “How is that going to help me save Ryland?” The buzzing grew as panic joined my frustration.

“It will help because then you will be able to use your magic,” he chuckled, which only made me more upset.

“Growing a tree is not going to help me! How will I use that? Grow a tree and then go hide in it? That doesn’t help anyone.” I could hear the harsh edge of panic creep steadily into my voice.