Scorched Treachery (Imdalind, #3)(83)

It wasn’t really Ryland. It was a close enough likeness that even Joclyn had been fooled, but it was just a projection. A projection of Ryland that Cail had placed inside her mind to hurt her, to torture her, so that in the event she did escape, she would only be a weapon against him.

To be killed by your own mate; it was my father’s sickest form of torture.

I replayed the memories as I dissected the words that were spoken, the way Cail yelled for Wynifred with his dying breath. Guilt filled me that I had not been able to keep my side of his bargain. A secret for a life, and he had lost his life anyway. I hoped Wyn was all right.

I replayed the way Cail led Joclyn through the maze of his mind. Looking at it like this, I was able to relate every injury to an action, the connections only fueling my anger.

Anger bubbled up inside me like oil left too long in a pan, slow and smothering. I wasn’t mad at Cail for what he had done. I wasn’t even mad at Ryland for not getting her out in time. I was mad at myself for not protecting her, not demanding that the bond be broken before this could have happened.

I should have kept her safe, broken the bond when I had the chance, and protected her mind from the terrors that had changed her. But I didn’t.

How could I have known what would happen? I could only assume what I felt ring true in Joclyn’s heart: that Ryland was alive and soon they would be back together.

I wanted that for her.

My choice to give her the joy of her first love had only led to a terror I could never fathom.

I shook my head and continued down the halls, back toward my suite, back to where Joclyn still lay. My magic surged through her keeping her asleep until I could return.

With no one extra on hand to watch her, I had left her alone, the door sealed, while I checked on Dramin. His room was bare except for mug after mug of Black Water. His body was still and cold as if death was unwilling to let him go. That’s what I had thought when I first walked in – that he was dead. His magic was still strong inside of him after the restart, but everything else had seemed to shut down.

“Ilyan?”

I jumped at Ryland’s voice, my body swinging around to face him. No one had snuck up on me in centuries. I could always feel everyone’s magical impulses as they moved toward me, I could hear their breathing in my ears, and yet Ryland stood in front of me, nothing flowing off him, not a wave or a whisper. I had felt the deep green waves of Ryland’s energy before, when he had released me from my father’s torture chamber as a child and when I had seen him with Joclyn. Now, nothing was there.

“Yes?” My eyes narrowed in confusion, my magic surging toward him as I tried to figure out how he was restraining his magic to the point that I could not sense him.

“I...I thought you would come get me by now.” I arched an eyebrow at him, not following.

“To see Joclyn.”

Ah yes, I should have known. It was wrong of me to keep him from her, but I worried. Worried what he would do to her and worried what she would do to him.

“It’s not safe, Ryland, not yet.” I kept my voice soft, hoping to speak with him like a brother, not a ruler.

“I can decide what is safe,” Ryland snarled as he squared his strong shoulders. So much for a calm talk between brothers. I kept my posture straight, while still trying to maintain my calm fa?ade. I couldn’t be the only levelheaded one around here, could I?

“She tried to kill you, Ryland. That has not changed. When Cail trapped her in his mind, he used a projection of you to torture her. Right now, she doesn’t see the difference.”

Ryland’s eyes widened as I spoke, the distrust showing in the furrowed lines of his forehead. I couldn’t help the deep sigh that escaped me. Ovailia had already set her framework; getting him to see things differently was going to be difficult.

“She doesn’t see the difference because you won’t let her.” Ryland’s voice was deep and angry.

“That’s not true, Ryland.” I planted my feet as he began to pace, his agitated movements alerting me to the fact that something much darker was dwelling within him.

“Ry?” He spun at my voice, as if he had forgotten I was there. His eyes widened in anger, and his hands began to shake, even though he had stopped pacing.

“Don’t call me that.” I stepped back on instinct, the snarl in his voice and the absence of his energy keeping me on high alert.

“Only Jos can call me that. She’s the only one....”

His fingers continued to flex as he spoke, his hands lifting to circle his head in agitation, his fingers glowing with power as his eyes darkened – and still I couldn’t read him.

“All right,” I said slowly, hoping to alleviate the pressure that was obviously building inside of him. “I didn’t know that Ryland. I won’t do it again.”

“She’s all I have. I... she’s mine.” He snarled the last statement again, his hands continuing to open and close as his anger fueled his power.

I watched him for a moment, trying to get any kind of a read off him. Nothing triggered, nothing changed. He was obviously completely infused with his magic, but still I felt nothing.

“I know that Ryland. She knows that. She risked everything to see you. Even when the dreams hurt, when the T?uha...”

“Then don’t keep her from me!” I flinched at his words as his pacing returned, the agitated movements increasing in his arms.