Scorched Treachery (Imdalind, #3)(24)

I waited, my body still curled in the middle of my cell. The footsteps were long gone, but I still dreaded the darkness, the possibility of someone waiting just beyond the black, out of sight. My breath picked up, and finally I could take it no more. I scooted across the small space toward the cell where Talon lay, my arms stretching through the bars as I reached for him. I clawed through air until I grabbed what I was sure was a shirt. I traced the fabric until I felt his skin, the warmth shooting through me as it always did, but without the magic behind it. Only my heart responded this time, the beats heavy and excited.

I didn’t dare say anything until Sain gave the all clear. I had learned that the hard way. Any noise demanded a beating, and I had already risked enough with my whispered question. No one was stupid enough to risk talking without Sain’s help. Ryland only howled because he couldn’t help it, or perhaps because Cail made him; either was a possibility.

Why had my brother been so gentle with me? I wanted to find a rational excuse, a reason for what had just passed between us. Even as a form of torture, it made no sense. Why leave my hands free? Why give me what I want? This was absolutely what I wanted. I traced down the skin of Talon’s arm until I found his hand. It was limp, but I intertwined my fingers with him anyway, desperate for the connection.

There was no wild flaring of joined magic when we touched. The omezující stone had done its job, but I didn’t care. The touch of his skin, the feel of his fingers was enough for me for now.

A dim green light flared from the other side of the prison, and I turned slowly toward Sain who sat with a tiny orb settled in his hands.

Sain’s magic wasn’t restricted; Edmund needed the use of his sight, so restricting it was useless. Sain was also weak and mostly powerless, so he couldn’t do much more than give us some light and shield our voices.

I kept my hands intertwined with Talon’s as Sain looked up at me, his eyes barely visible from beneath his mat of hair.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice calm and low so as not to breach the shield.

I nodded once. “Was that a trap?”

“Cail?” Sain asked as he leaned over to check Ryland’s body, Ryland’s chest moving as he struggled to breathe.

“Yeah.”

Sain exhaled, the sound as shaky as Ryland’s labored breathing. “Your brother is complicated, and strangely still with a conscience.”

I exhaled, not really knowing what that meant, but Sain only chuckled.

“You will see what I mean soon enough, Wyn.” Sain moved his hands through the bars of his cell as he reached for Ryland, his own chains rattling loudly as they hit the thick bars of the cell.

“Have you seen something, Sain?” I asked while trying to smile. I sounded strangely like Ryland. In Ryland’s brief moments of lucidity, it was always the only thing he asked, what Sain might have seen.

“I have,” he said simply. “I always see. I see you now sitting right in front of me. I see my daughter, happy. I see Ryland in his rightful place, and I see Cail finding his peace. You will see some of that too.”

He was always so cryptic. I had never been around a Drak before. I had been born long after their extermination order was given, but Sain was fascinating. I wasn’t sure if it was just his way, or an attempt to keep us all safe by keeping us in the dark. I wanted to smile, but I couldn’t find it in me. I couldn’t smile in a place like this – with my wrists and arms covered in blood, and my husband passed out beside me. Call me pessimistic, but I just couldn’t do it.

I leaned my head back against the bars, keeping my hand entwined with Talon’s.

“You will make it out of here safely, Wynifred.” I turned toward Sain, suddenly desperate for information, but he had already begun caring for Ryland.

“Ryland?” Sain asked, his voice soft as he ran his hands over Ryland’s side.

Ryland shuttered at his touch, his body racking with even bigger sobs.

“No more,” Ryland groaned, his voice more of a cry than actual words.

“No more what, Ryland?” Sain asked, his endless patience enduring.

“No more pain. She hurts me…hurts me…hurts me…” Ryland wrapped himself up in a ball, his fingers clawing at his curls.

“I hate seeing him like this,” Sain sighed as he attempted to stop Ryland’s frantic movements. “It’s so much easier when his mind is clear, before the nightmares.”

“Why is he calm then?” I asked, remembering how much more like himself he had seemed for those few moments in that other place.

“Because all of his soul is together, all of his heart is in one place. Now, like this, he is only part of who he truly is. He is broken, ripped apart.”

“She hurts me…hurts me…” Ryland continued to pant, his pained groans pulling Sain’s attention back to him.

“No, Ryland, no. She doesn’t hurt you. It’s all in your head, remember? It isn’t really her.” Sain reached up and touched the boy’s hair, his fingers soft and gentle as he attempted to calm him. However, it had the opposite effect.

“Let me kill her!” Ryland’s voice roared through the small rock room, his body fighting against his chains as he moved from one barred wall to another, clawing, kicking, and grabbing at the bars in his attempt to escape.

“I’m going to kill her!” he roared, and I moved into the bars I was huddled against, my hands squeezing Talon’s as I pulled him toward me, desperate for some comfort.