Scorched Treachery (Imdalind, #3)(92)

I opened my eyes; the three men staring in amazement as Wyn’s marks not only stopped moving, but also began to fade from her skin.

Hold me.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I looked away from the three pairs of eyes that stared at us and wrapped my free hand around Joclyn’s waist, keeping my scarred hand against her mark as I brought her body against me.

No sooner had I pressed myself against her back than both girls began to scream, their voices matched in pitch, the sound ringing out like a song rather than the agonizing pain I could feel mirrored in my own body.

The scream ended only moments after it had come. Joclyn gasped for breath before she rocked away from Wynifred’s body and threw both of us away from the bed.

Wynifred’s yell lasted for a moment longer before her mouth opened wider, her jaw extended like a cat on the hunt. She writhed on the bed, her back arching eerily before her body released a plume of black smoke. It spewed from her gaping mouth like the steam from an engine, the blackness rising and curling dangerously into the air before disappearing.

I held Joclyn’s body against mine, my eyes darting down to Wyn, whose body was relaxed and her marks all but gone. No one dared to move, least of all me. We all knew just by looking that Joclyn had done something even I couldn’t.

Cover my eyes.

I did as she asked, recognizing the change that was coming over her. Her body stiffened and her head spun within me. Her breathing picked up as her mind was filled with a sight, her spine tensing for only a moment before she spoke.

“T-take th...the l-left.” Her deep voice filled the room. Thom barely looked at her before rushing back to Wyn’s side.

Sain’s eyes widened as he pieced together what had just had happened, but Ryland hadn’t seemed to notice, he just looked at her with that desperate longing in his eyes again. I’m not even sure he realized that there was something different in her voice.

I looked at Sain, pleading with him not to say anything, to keep this secret. I still wasn’t sure I could trust Ryland. I needed to keep Joclyn safe, and letting this get out would not help her.

Sain nodded once in understanding, the action letting my muscles relax.

“She’s fine.” Thom’s voice cut through my silent exchange, bringing us all back to what had just happened. “Joclyn healed her.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I brought her body into mine, keeping her close to me.

I told you I could.

I jerked my eyes back down to her. Her eyes were still closed, and her face was pressed against my chest. She could have been sleeping. I slowly removed my finger from the mark, allowing the connection to begin to fade from my mind. I wished I knew how she was doing that, how she was filling my mind with her voice. No one had ever managed anything past crude pictures – not since the first were born from the mud. But to hear her voice, without the stutter, inside my mind… It was as beautiful as she was.

She was amazing.

Thank you.





Joclyn





Twenty-Eight


Fireflies.

When I was growing up, I thought fireflies were magic. I thought they were like fairies. I would try to catch them in jars and take them home to convince them to grant my wish.

I was four when I caught my first one. I had put him in a glass jar and watched him glow as he fluttered and banged against the glass. He was going to grant my wish. My father had sat with me and run his finger over the glass, the firefly drawn to him. When my father’s finger was there, the firefly didn’t bang his head against the glass anymore; he just followed my father’s finger.

Dad asked me what my wish was, but at four all I could think of was a pony, a pony and the ability to fly. My father smiled and told me that magic was inside of you, not in bugs. I asked him if I had magic then, and he got that face that parents get when they are caught in a lie. I knew it then, that magic wasn’t real, but I didn’t care.

I had laughed as we set my little firefly free, sad for the loss of a wish but happy that the bug was free.

It was one of my only memories of my father.

Then, many years later, I found out what magic really was. And just like the firefly, I wished I could just open the jar and let it go free.

I still wanted to think of fireflies as magic. I watched them as they danced outside the window of Ilyan’s room, and I wanted to dance with them, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move my body out of the heavy blanket I had found on the couch. I was too scared to move from the small alcove of stone that looked out onto the balcony.

So I watched the fireflies, and I felt my magic surge and flow through the air, the power wild and unrestrained within me.

My magic flew away from me as I watched, desperate to be out of the small container my body provided it. It flowed through the air and over the yards of the Abbey like water. It fanned away from me and brought back signs and signals from everyone around me.

I could feel the armies that surrounded us and their eagerness for a battle that they knew was coming. I could feel Thom’s joy as he sat next to Wyn, closeted up in his room where I had left them only a few minutes before. I could feel Wyn’s sadness at losing her mate. I wished I could tell her that I could still feel Talon inside of her, but I didn’t dare speak. Not yet.

I had sat with them as Wyn woke up, my eyes closed as I hid myself in Ilyan’s chest. I could feel them all around me. I could feel my father’s magic, I could feel everything. In that tiny room, I was trapped.