Scorched Treachery (Imdalind, #3)(84)

I had to remind myself that he had only been released from his Vym?zat a week ago. If his horrors were anything like what Joclyn had been forced to endure, then he had made amazing progress.

“I’m not keeping her from you, Ryland. She is scared of you. She wants to kill you. I am protecting you from her, as well as protecting her.” I watched him as he moved, keeping my body still and my voice level in an effort to keep him calm.

“I don’t believe you.” He didn’t even look at me as he paced, his eyes darting anywhere but at me.

“I would never lie to you, Ryland, you are my brother. You released me from our father’s imprisonment. You saved my life. Now it is just my turn to return the favor.”

“You don’t know what he did to us!” he yelled, the palm of his hand moving to smack against his head in frustration.

I could already tell there would be no controlling Ryland’s anger. It was too new. He reminded me of Thom when I had first met him, how the anger had been all that he had, what he held onto. It took Thom time, and Sain’s guidance, to see how wrong that anger could be. I needed to get Ryland past it faster than Thom though. I needed him to see what he still had before it was all taken away by our father’s games.

Ovailia had obviously led him to believe that I was keeping Joclyn from him. He needed to see that I hadn’t taken her away from him. That I had no intention of holding them apart.

“I may not know what he did to you, but I know what he did to Joclyn,” I whispered, my voice just loud enough to freeze him in place.

“He hurt her.”

“Yes. In every nightmare. You were there, weren’t you?” He only nodded; I tried to ignore the surge of pride at my lucky guess. “He hurt you too.”

It was a statement. Ryland looked up at me, his eyes calming as his breathing regulated. The moment his eyes met mine, I felt it. It was weak and only there for a moment, but his magic surged through the air before retreating again. I couldn’t help but smile; I was calming him. I smiled and wondered at the fact that he could control himself so much, that he could hide all of his power from my detection.

“They used me to hurt her.” I visibly flinched at Ryland’s words, at the way he clenched his chest as if the pain of the blood magic was still fresh on his mind. “I didn’t want to. But when I fought them, when I warned her… Hurt Me!” His last words flew out in an angry rush, the disjointed nature of them alarming.

“I know.”

“Hurt…hurt…hurt…,” he repeated before hitting himself hard against the head with his palm again. As quick as it started, the deranged anger on his face left as he looked at me.

“I don’t want to hurt her,” he whispered. I nodded to him once, afraid of what speaking may bring out next. Ryland’s hand moved to clench over his chest again, his eyes drifting back to me.

I didn’t know how much Ryland remembered of the Vym?zat, or how much of what had been done was his own choice, but one thing was clear. He had suffered as much, if not more, than the rest of Edmund’s children. If only for that, he deserved my patience.

“It wasn’t your fault, Ryland. He has done it to all of us.” I moved toward him slowly, keeping my voice level.

I needed Ryland on my side, I needed to regain the trust he had lost in me. Ovailia had moved him into position as a pawn. But he wasn’t a pawn; he was a person. My brother. He was someone I cared for. If I could save him, I would.

“Everyone?” Ryland looked up at me from beneath his long bangs, the wicked gleam back in his eyes. I don’t know what was said to trigger his anger, but with one statement, we were right back where we began.

Fine. If he wanted to be angry, I would let him. I would not, however, let his foolish emotion affect me or my choices. If it were to be anything, it would be the other way around.

My skin prickled the way it always did in anticipation of battle, my magic surging as I smiled. I knew the wicked gleam was back in my eyes. I didn’t try to hide it; I let it shine. I let the power behind my eyes move into my brother. He stepped back. Not a lot, but just enough to convey that the look in my eyes had done its job.

“Yes, Ryland, everyone. Most everyone has died at his hands, Zetta was killed at birth because of her brown eyes. Sylas was forcibly mated only to be killed when he never produced an heir. Mym tortured all her young life, turned into a five year old weapon. She never knew love until I rescued her, but even then she struggled. How can you learn to recognize love if you’ve never felt it? Thom watched as his daughter was tortured and murdered at the hands of our father. He used to smear her blood on his face.”

“Thom?” Ryland asked, the timber of his voice changing to one of sickened pity. Had no one told him yet? Had he not placed it together?

“Yes, Thom. He is your brother too. Only the four of us remain. Some have escaped the horrors, others let them engulf them, and they are turned into heartless monsters. Joclyn fights her horrors every day, what will you do?”

“Joclyn...” his voice revered her, as if she was his deity. The anger was gone from his eyes now, his head hanging between his sagging shoulders. Right then, I could see the child who had saved me. He was scared but so brave. In that moment, I knew that his strength was still there; it was the line between right and wrong that had been blurred.

We just needed to draw it again.