Scorched Treachery (Imdalind, #3)(20)

Ryland howled at Sain’s words, moving away from us to smash his fist through several more trees that turned to mist at the impact. Ryland stood still after disintegrating his eighth tree, his chest heaving as he watched the white mist float toward the empty expanse of sky above us.

“Don’t give in to Cail’s taunts, Ryland,” Sain counseled. “If you give in, then he has won. Use this time to clear your mind. It’s the only time you are in control of yourself. Don’t let Cail’s words cloud you here.”

Ryland stood with his back to us, his head bobbing once in understanding before he turned, his strides taking him right into Sain’s arms. The older man embraced him, his hands wrapping around him tightly. They said nothing, the embrace enough to convey all that was needed. Ryland moved away and came right over to me, his giant arms sweeping me up as he squeezed me against him.

“I’m sorry, Wyn,” he whispered in my ear. “I’m sorry, I got so mad. I just can’t see the lies from reality anymore.” He dropped me and smiled. “My brain is a mess. All I can remember is Joclyn, but the details are all fuzzy.”

I wanted to laugh at what he said; I could tell that had been his intention, but I couldn’t. I heard the honesty behind it, and it broke my heart. Edmund had tried to delete Ryland’s mind, but somehow Ryland had fought him. So instead, they turned to manipulation and torture. I felt my stomach swim, the lack of contents adding to my nausea.

“If it wasn’t for Sain, I would probably be more of a mess.” He chuckled again, but I could only smile.

Ryland’s awkward chuckle stopped as he looked away. Both his and Sain’s eyes turned outward as tree after tree began to vaporize, the white fog that surrounded us started as moving forward, seeping through the trees much faster than was natural.

“Remember, it’s only a dream, Wynifred…brace yourself.” I barely heard Sain’s words before the mist took me, the white mass moving into me and breaking me up into a million pieces. This time, however, the feeling of carelessness didn’t take me. I was aware.

I was aware as different trees began to form around me and aware of voices in the distance, these ones hard and menacing. I was aware of the change in my body and the hands that wrapped hard around my arms, aware of the fear that gripped my heart.

The voices in the distance raised as someone, a girl, yelled. The large hands that held me wrapped round me, lifting me off the ground. As soon as I started to struggle, one massive palm covered my nose and mouth. I could barely breathe through the pressure, so I stopped struggling, hoping for air while my brain caught up with my situation.

Had I left the dream that Sain had been talking about? This all felt too real. How did I get to this place? I could feel the bruises on my face return, the joints in my body scalding me with pain from my captivity and beatings.

Instinctively, I began to fight against the painful fingers that dug into my skin and the hand over my face. But whoever held me only held tighter, his fingers pressing into me to the point I was sure I was going to bruise. Sain’s warning of this being a dream repeated through my mind. I wanted to believe it, but everything seemed too real to be a dream. It felt too real.

My captor began to move me through the forest, the heavy clomp of his shoes breaking through the undergrowth the main sound as he dragged me along toward the voices.

“Or torture,” Cail’s voice said from somewhere in front of me. I didn’t know what we were heading toward, but I did know that I wanted nothing to do with Cail. My bruised and battered body called out as I fought my captor once more, my fight useless against his strong arms.

“Is that what Edmund told you to do, Cail?” I froze at the voice. Joclyn’s voice was filtering through the trees toward me. What was going on here? Where was I?

“To torture me?” Joclyn said, and my struggle against the man who held me resumed.

I was torn, I wanted to see Joclyn, but not like this. I wanted to fight and save her, but I knew neither of those were an option right now. They spoke of torture, my brother’s favorite game. Nothing good was going to happen here.

I yelled out, to warn her, to help her, but my voice caught behind the man’s large hand, my warning falling limply to the forest floor.

“Ryland told me you knew. He said you now know that Ilyan loves you. Is that true?” The man who held me stopped his advance, the voices loud enough to alert me to how close we were.

Trees surrounded us; our bodies gobbled up by a thick forest. I looked through the trunks of the trees that surrounded me, hoping to see something, anything, in front of us but saw nothing.

“Ilyan doesn’t love me, not in that way.” I heard a gasp to my right at Joclyn’s words. I turned toward the sound, sure that someone else was there, but once again, seeing nothing but trees.

“Oh, so he hasn’t told you,” Cail taunted, the same babying tone he had used with Ryland earlier cutting through his voice. I cringed against it, expecting his verbal attack to switch to me at any moment even though I was still hidden in the woods. “Could it be that I know more than you at this point in time?”

Cail laughed and I jumped at the high pitched sound, my whole body seizing in preparation for an attack.

“Ooo,” Cail’s taunts continued, “I would love to see your face when you figure everything out – what Ryland did, what Ilyan is keeping from you.”