Scorched Treachery (Imdalind, #3)(87)

“Get out of my way,” I commanded, careful to keep my magic out of my voice.

“No. He deserves to see his mate. Unless you have taken her for yourself. Did you ruin his mate, brother? Tsk. Tsk. I knew you couldn’t keep your hands off her.” She spoke as if she was relating facts, not the disgusting lies that had just spewed from her lips. I could never do something so vulgar. By the look on her face, I could tell that she had already spread the seed of doubt in Ryland’s mind.

“Don’t say such vulgar things about me!” I yelled, fully aware that the power in my voice was shaking the door she still leaned against.

“Then why can’t he see her?” She raised her voice to match mine, the increase in volume obviously only meant to fuel whatever was happening inside the room.

“Because she will kill him!”

“Oh I doubt that, but if she does, it doesn’t matter. It’s what Father would want. They are both weapons, created only to kill each other.” She sneered, the little twist of her lips identical to our father’s, the action fueling my rage.

“Out of my way!” I roared, placing the magical strain in my voice this time. She started to move, her feet acting as if of their own accord as my magic forced her movements.

I had made it to the door when a yell of pain shot through the heavy wooden door to my suite. I surged my magic into Joclyn, my energy finding the bruised cells in her cheek automatically.

Ryland had punched her.

With one burst of energy, my magic sent Ovailia flying away from the door, her body hitting the wall opposite as it flew from its hinges. In two steps, I was inside. I only needed a glimpse of Ryland’s arm pulling back in preparation for another punch before he too was forced away from her. His body hit stone with such force that a crack fanned away from him, breaking the ancient mortar that kept the wall steady.

I just caught a glimpse of Joclyn rolling off the bed, her small, scared body wedging itself into the small space underneath it, before Ryland recovered himself and Ovailia had moved to his side the moment she entered the room.

“Look what you have done, Ovailia!” I yelled at her in Czech, the look on Ryland’s face making it clear he understood every word. “I won’t play your games anymore.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if you had just let him see his mate. Why couldn’t you do that, Ilyan? I don’t understand. Why can’t he see his mate?” Ovailia had placed just enough desperation in her voice to be able to claim sincerity. Her game was not very well covered, something I am sure she did on purpose.

“I’m trying to keep him safe.”

“Are you sure? It looks like you are just trying to keep her for yourself.” I felt my muscles tense, the anger within me strong enough to overcome my breeding and rip out of me in a yell over her foolish lie.

“I’m not keeping her! I’m protecting her!” The royal fa?ade had slipped, just as Ovailia wanted. My outcry only caused the ugly sneer on her lips to increase.

“But he didn’t hurt her, did he?” Ovailia yelled as she transitioned smoothly to English.

“Ovailia, he punched her when I came into the room!” I eyed them as I moved to the side of the bed, my position and posture making it very clear I wasn’t going to give her to them.

“I didn’t see that,” Ovailia lied smoothly, the laugh that escaped Ryland’s mouth making it clear he believed her, that, like a child, he thought he had gotten away with something.

“He’s going to lie anyway, Ovailia,” Ryland said. “He’s been feeding her lies. Just as you said.” Both my and Joclyn’s heart rate increased, but for entirely different reasons. Hers had accelerated in fear at the sound of Ryland’s voice, mine in the realization of loss. My sister had played her game well. She had manipulated what was left of Ryland’s mind just enough to turn him against me. I thought I had recovered enough of him when we had talked yesterday, but now I was not so sure.

“What lies have you been telling him, Ovailia?” I said.

“Nothing much. Two can play at this game, Ilyan.” The wicked honey texture of her voice flared as she smiled at me in exhilaration.

Before anyone could say anything else, Joclyn’s heart rate increased. Her breathing picked up and her voice opened up into a howl so traumatized it wrenched through each of us. Even Ovailia looked surprised and somewhat pained. Ryland took a step forward, the desperation to comfort her evident, but I couldn’t let him. I couldn’t risk his life or put Joclyn through the pain.

He would have to be patient.

I looked at him, my eyes pleading for him to understand, begging him to give her space. He looked between Ovailia, whose wide eyes dug into him in warning, myself, and the bed, where Joclyn’s cries continued to wail before moving back against the wall. His choice was obvious.

Even though Ovailia had taken away his trust in me, his longing for Joclyn was still stronger than the weak allegiance he had for Ovailia.

Ovailia saw his choice, and I saw her pride stutter for just a moment, her head spinning toward me, her eyes flashing as her long hair swirled around her.

“You’ll regret this, Ilyan.” I barely heard her voice above Joclyn’s yells.

“I want you out, Ovailia! Leave the Abbey, and take your pathetic game with you.” I couldn’t control the level of my voice. The anger I felt at the loss of my sister hit me far deeper then I would have expected.