Kiss of Fire (Imdalind, #1)(84)

“Not as much as it should, I suppose,” I lied; it actually made me very uncomfortable, like he was touching me in an intimate way. “When Ryland touched it, I kind of blacked out. Why doesn’t it do that with you?”

“Because you are not bonded to me, Joclyn. I am not your mate and so our bodies don’t react.”

“Mate?” I exclaimed, terrified.

“Yes, Joclyn. The Z?lství, remember? Everything just has a different name.”

I nodded my head like I understood, but my stomach still spun. Mate? I was sixteen, barely.

“So why do you keep touching it?” I asked, freaking out a little bit. “You don’t expect the same thing to happen, do you?”

Ilyan laughed, which I should have been happy about, but instead it only made me feel really embarrassed.

“No, Joclyn, you don’t have to worry about that. I am only here to protect you. It’s just…”

“What?”

“It’s just been so long since I have seen one, since my father… My father had a kiss just as you do, did you know that?

“Your father? But I thought you were a… a... Skry…” Darn it, I had forgotten the word.

“A Sk?ítek, Joclyn.”

“I thought you were a Sk?ítek?”

“My mother was. My father was a Chosen Child, just as you. So I guess I am kind of a half-breed,” he said.

“A half-breed… who is king of the Sk?íteks?”

Ilyan nodded at my connection. “My father ruled over all magical beings for a time, many years ago. So, I guess you could say that I inherited the title.”

“Your father was king? Of the Sk?íteks?”

“More along the lines of king over everyone. In that time, there was no true segregation.”

“What happened to him? Did Edmund kill him, too?”

Ilyan hesitated, looking away and running his hands through his straight hair.

I instantly regretted asking the question.

“My father was the first person that Edmund destroyed,” he clarified.





TwentySeven


I had spent the last two days in the air, although it wasn’t by choice. Ilyan had insisted that once I had grasped the concept, I perfect it. I knew it was all with the pretense of my need to escape, and it made me mad. I had perfected moving wind, even under the barrier the necklace gave me, for short distances. It wasn’t enough for Ilyan; he insisted I do better. I should have been happy for his persistence in teaching me, but I wasn’t. I wanted to be stronger, know more and actually be of use when we went to save Ryland.

I yelled and screamed at Ilyan, begging him to teach me something new, to show me how to at least defend myself, but he refused. He was adamant that I perfect my mastery of wind. He demonstrated ways I could use the wind defensively, and I learned them easily, my skills improving swiftly now. Moving around pebbles and benches wasn’t enough for me, and I begged further.

I must have pushed it too far; about three hours ago, Ilyan had snapped. He said nothing, but the ice in his gaze cut through me, and I shrank away, running to my room to escape the onslaught I was sure I had unleashed, but it never came.

I sat in the windowsill that overlooked the courtyard with my head against my knees. I looked out into the yard, seeing nothing except a green haze as the setting sun streamed through the green leaves of the massive tree. I had come here when I had fled from Ilyan and had attempted to teach myself some form of defensive magic, but I had no idea what I was doing.

My magic had surged and crackled underneath my skin and between my fingertips as I tried to conjure something, anything that could be of use. Nothing happened in all the hours that I tried. My inability to conjure more than wind had only soured my bad mood further.

I had stopped attempting any form of magic when the news had come on a few minutes ago, my ears perking up at the sound of my name. It seemed I was still big news, and what was more, Ryland was giving another press conference—live this time.

I tried to keep my focus off the screen, terrified of the condition I would see him in, but my ears were tuned to it intently, my heart thumping in anticipation. The possibility of hearing his voice had electrified my senses. I grabbed the necklace from its resting place on the table, desperate to be close to him in any way possible.

“And now we go live to the LaRue estate where Ryland LaRue will be addressing the press.”

I reluctantly turned my head to the screen, my heart beating in eager, yet terrified, fear. The “Live” icon lit up the bottom corner of the screen and I couldn’t help but think he would be right there, standing on the steps of that beautiful house. My heart longed to be next to him. I clenched the necklace tighter as Ryland walked out of the door to the small podium that stood at the bottom of the front steps where the press had gathered.

I would like to say he looked like he had healed a bit, but I knew better. His right arm still hung lifelessly beside him, his right shoulder larger than the left one. His bruises appeared to be better, and the cut was almost gone, but he was twitching more than he had been the last time. Each jerk was so subtle that most people wouldn’t have noticed it. Each twitch shot through me like I was being punched.

Ryland paused and shifted the papers in his left hand before looking at everyone in front of him. His bright blue eyes met the camera, and everything stopped. Ryland was terrified; I had never seen him look so scared. Seeing him there on the screen, shoved Edmund’s magic-enshrouding blanket completely off me. My uncovered magic surged, the energy prickling my skin like a thousand needles. I expelled it from me, surprised to find it willingly going into the necklace that I still held in my hands. I looked at the ruby, reluctant to take my eyes from Ryland for too long. My magic flowing into the ruby had increased its warmth, the heat comforting against my skin.