Scorched Treachery (Imdalind, #3)(8)

“…Free to face the life that’s ahead of me.”

I was about halfway through the song when I noticed it; Talon’s magic was gone. The pull that told me where he was only a moment ago had vanished. It wasn’t gone like when he shielded himself because even then I could feel something that would lead me in his general direction; this was just gone. I froze; everything inside me turned icy with dread.

The words of the song faded as my focus left it, my fear growing. “And, I’ll try, oh lord I’ll try. To carry on.”

“Thanks, Wyn.” I barely heard her.

“No problem, are you okay?” I said automatically, my mind and magic both distracted and searching for Talon. I was barely able to get the words out, barely able to focus on her.

“I’m better now.”

“Good,” I said a little too stiffly, “I’ve gotta go find my husband now, okay? I’ll call you in few hours.”

“Sounds good, Wyn.” I had already pulled the phone from my ear when she spoke, her voice almost drowned out by the disconnecting phone.

I put the phone in my pocket and made my way toward the door, my fingers tingling as I turned the knob. I stood in the wooden doorframe for one solid minute as my magic searched for him, my heart rate picking up as no sign of him came. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t think. What had happened? I waited to hear something, almost expecting parades or riots, but heard only the buzzing in my ears as my stress took over.

Everything slowed down to a snail’s pace before my brain moved into overdrive in my panic. My feet moved without asking, taking me nowhere before I was able to stop and attempt to refocus.

Talon had gone to speak to Ovailia. The last I felt of him had also been in that general direction, so I turned, my heart beating angrily as my feet ran toward him, my mind moving from panicked to focused with each step. I reached Ovailia’s room quickly and found the door open slightly as several voices filtered into the hall toward me.

The voices overlapped each other and bounced around the smooth stone of the walls that surrounded me. The sound contained more than Talon and Ovailia’s voices. I could hear at least two others in there, both male, their voices deep and scratchy. I tiptoed toward the door, flattening my back against the dark stone of the wall as I closed my eyes and expanded my vision into the room. I had to work to press it that far, but what little I could see was enough to make the contents of my stomach turn and my heart thump against the thin bones in my chest.

My father and Edmund were in there.

It was not just henchmen that had made it in; they were here. Edmund and my father. They were here. I knew they wouldn’t travel alone either; they never did. Somewhere in the once safe halls of Imdalind, an army stood in waiting. I clasped my hand over my mouth, trying to keep the panic stuck inside, my breath trapping itself inside of my chest. Everything inside me constricted, my body freezing in place even though my feet were threatening to run in and attack.

Don’t move; don’t let them know you are here.

Ovailia sat in one of her many large, carved chairs, filing her nails as if she was bored out of her mind. In the corner of the large room, a man was crumpled and chained, his own blood staining his clothes and dark beard. The beaten man moaned and rocked as his fingers clawed against the wood of Ovailia's floor, large scratches appearing as black sparks flew from his fingertips.

My father stood in the middle of the room, Timothy’s short squat frame barely enough to hold Talon’s wavering form steady, his neatly trimmed beard glistening with blood I knew didn’t belong to him. My whole body jolted at seeing Talon. I saw him, but I felt nothing aside from my own fear. There was no magical pull alerting me to his presence, no surge that would normally fill the air. Something had happened. They had done something to him.

Edmund paced the floor in front of Talon, his tall, muscular body draped in black as he smiled wickedly toward him. Edmund moved to slick his curly hair back against his head, and my stomach muscles tightened, his knuckles were bloody from having turned my husband’s face into a punching bag.

I watched them for only a moment before trying to let my panic subside enough for my logical thinking to step in. I shielded myself the moment my rational brain burst strongly to the forefront of my mind. My eyes narrowed, my back straightened, and even through the fear and stress, I knew what I had to do.

The shield around me was strong enough to block me from sight as well as hiding any magical signature I might have been broadcasting; at least I hoped it was.

One breath. I let one breath escape my lips before I walked into the room, careful to keep my steps silent, my eyes watching the reactions of all those in the room, wary of being noticed. No one reacted or even looked in my direction.

My chest loosened, although just briefly. I was not walking into a surprise party – I may as well be walking to greet my death.

“Tell me what I need, Talon, and I won’t hurt her.” I froze at Edmund’s words, his voice dark and chilling, as I turned toward him, worried he had seen me.

His focus was not on me, it was on Talon, whose face was already swollen and bloodied at Edmund’s hand. I restrained a gasp as Edmund pulled his arm back, his fist glowing white, before a strong sucker punch to the gut winded Talon with one shot. I froze as Talon grunted in pain, my hand flying to my own stomach as anger lurched up my spine.

“What about the rest of your men, Edmund? What would they do to her? I know how your deals work.” Talon’s voice was broken and pained, blood spattering around him as he forced out the words.