Scorched Treachery (Imdalind, #3)(26)
I could see the fear in his eyes, the terror at the first thing that I was sure he noticed. There was no magic flowing through his veins. No fire as our skin connected, and although I watched him try several times, no T?uha for us to retreat to.
His weak hand had moved to touch my face, tears streaming down his cheeks as he touched the tender skin. I fought the desire to look away. I didn’t want to see the pain in his eyes, the way his jaw tightened, the truth of Edmund’s lie stabbing into him. He had kept me alive, but little more than that.
I wanted to tell him it was okay. I wanted to promise him that I was alive, and that was all that mattered, but my lips stayed closed, the words trapped in my throat as I kissed his hand, hoping that was enough for him to understand.
With no words to say, we lay beside each other, Talon still too weak to move much, me too sore to try. We spoke with the subtle movements of fingers, a kiss - a promise, a glance – a vow. Soon the language of touch was not enough to say what we wanted to say, so we settled into each other, content to hold hands and stare, happy to simply see each other again.
I flinched when I heard the gasp, the groan, and the subtle laugh that escaped from my brother’s lips as he returned to reality.
“Well, that was fun,” he sighed, and Talon’s hand clenched against mine. I stared at him, begging him to say nothing, do nothing, praying he would get the message and that he wouldn’t even try to battle through the weakness in his body.
I laid still as I listened to stumbling feet and the grind of iron as Cail opened doors and shifted bodies around. I heard shackles replaced, doors closed, and saw a flash of red as the soul blade reflected off the blue light Cail had brought with him and left with the guard.
“Anything interesting happen?” Cail asked, his voice moving closer to where we lay. I closed my eyes, hoping Talon followed suit, praying that we would simply look like we were sleeping.
“No, sir.”
“Good. Come along. Let’s go join the bonfire and say goodbye to the last of the Sk?íteks.” Cail chuckled, and my shoulders tightened at his meaning. I didn’t want to think about the end of the massacre that was occurring only a few levels above us.
I waited until I was sure that they were far enough away before opening my eyes, unsurprised at the absolute darkness surrounding us.
My fingers fumbled away from Talon’s hand until I found his face. I knew what was coming, and I had an extremely brief window in which to act. My fingertips pressed into his cheek, the pads of my fingers following around his jaw until I moved him closer, pressing his face against the bars as my lips found the hollow cup of his ear. He winced at the pain that my movements had given him, his lips parting in a subtle gasp.
The pain passed, and I felt him tense, waiting for me to say something. Still I waited; this had to be perfectly timed. I didn’t need to risk being heard. I waited, Talon’s heartbeat pulsing against my hand as I kept my palm against his neck.
A groan and an exhale. Sain was awake.
I could count it like clockwork if I tried, but I didn’t wait.
“Don’t make any noise,” I whispered into his ear, hoping that he could understand me with the speed I was getting the words out. They could count my whispered mutterings as Ryland’s groans if I said them fast enough. “They beat you if you talk. I am okay. I love you.”
I wish I could have said more, and I knew the time would come that I would be able to, but now was not it. The scream of agony I had grown used to opened up through the jail. The sound echoed and grew, Sain’s whispered pleas adding to the noise as Talon clung to my hand, his fear at the sound evident.
“It’s okay,” I said through the yells, hoping it was loud enough for Talon to hear but no one else.
“She’s okay, Ryland. No one is hurting you. You are safe. She is safe. Joclyn is safe. She loves you, Ryland. It’s okay.” Sain repeated the phrase continually, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough. The footsteps were already approaching, Sain’s words halted as he backed away from his friend.
The grind of metal, the whimpering, the crying and the sound of flesh on flesh, I heard it all, and I felt Talon’s tears as he heard it for the first time. As silence took over the cell, Ryland’s breathing equalized, the whimpers leaving him and unconsciousness took over. The grind of metal repeated, and then there was silence, the long silence that stretched into the black. I clung to Talon as Ryland’s breathing changed to the deep pulse of sleep. Sain joined him, and reluctantly, even I fell into sleep, the darkness giving me no other option. The brutal reality of my life gave me no other escape.
It was the first night I dreamed since I had been imprisoned. I would have expected the dream to focus on the brutal torture of the little girl, but no, it was the meadow again. The girl danced through the daisies and poppies, her dress spinning as she twirled.
I watched her as her image moved from one scene to another before it shifted to an old-style market. I fought the urge to laugh, my dreams taking me to a medieval fair. The girl ran before me, her hair laced with wildflowers as she weaved her way through the crowd, her body jumping around as if I was watching a scratched DVD.
“Mama!” she yelled happily, and my heart clenched. Her voice was beautiful, so sweet and innocent. “They have chocolate, mama! Papa, papa, come see!”
The image jumped. The Henry the Eighth wanna-be flashed as he smiled at me, his lips moving, but once again no words coming through. He suddenly appeared several feet in front of me, standing next to the little girl, pieces of chocolate in his hands.