Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4) (7 page)

I had only ever been told to accept the fate that sights had given me, that there was nothing that could be done to change them. Feeling Dramin’s cold skin, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, I didn’t think I could just walk away from that; I couldn’t let him die.

“I can save him,” I moaned.

Thom’s eyes widened as Ilyan’s hand froze on my back, his surprise at my commitment rocking through me.

“No!” Sain yelled the moment I had spoken. Everyone jumped at my father’s outburst, and I cringed at the intensity of his yell. The venom he had awakened coursed through my veins.

Thom turned toward him as his eyes seemed to catch fire. “You will let your son die?”

“I will let the future be as it should be,” Sain said, his words directed toward Thom even though he moved closer to me. His calm nature made his movements slow, and my agitation increased.

“But I can save him!” I yelled at Sain. His face only spelled regret and pain as he stood in silence. I knew he was suffering—that he wanted his son to live—but he wouldn’t admit it, and he wouldn’t fight for it. He just stood there, silently accepting fate.

He was walking away from Dramin the same way he had walked away from me.

Pain and anger flashed through me with more animosity than I had ever felt, it rippled over my body, blacking out my vision in spots of obsidian. Everything in me screamed, everything threatened to explode.

“Why won’t you save your children? Why don’t you love us? Love me?” I pressed against Ilyan’s arms as he held me in an attempt to calm me. I could hear him whisper against me, but the anger flowed as clearly as the words did, years of pain spilling out of me. The mugs of Black Water that lined the walls began to shake as my power surged.

“This has nothing to do with love. I love him, as I do you,” he said, his voice a mellow calm that only infuriated me more.

“Then let me save him!” I shouted, the words clear and concise as I continued to fight against Ilyan’s arms, against the rage.

“You saw him die, Joclyn,” Sain said, his voice mellow as he stood still, his body calm even as the room seemed to pulsate under my anger. “You cannot defy a sight. There is nothing that can be done.”

I ground my teeth, my body writhing as I fought my anger and the truth of what he said. I wanted to accept the truth of my sight. I knew I needed to, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I reached toward Dramin, my fingers long and desperate, as if I was saving him from the slaughter. “I have lost s-so m-much.” I cringed as my stutter began to surge through me, the heat of my emotions unleashing my instability. “M-my m-mother was mur-dered… M-my b-brother-r… I-I j-j-just b-barely f-found-d h-him…” I stopped talking, the stutter so bad I knew it was foolish to go on.

I glared at Sain, breathing deeply as I tried so desperately to control the stutter. Ilyan’s magic consumed me as he finally broke through to calm me, the warmth so normal to me now that I almost felt bare without it.

“It doesn’t matter about the sight; sights can change. They cannot be set in stone. They can’t be. I can save him. I will save him,” I pleaded with him as I leaned across my brother with my magic surging angrily at the words I knew to be false.

I stretched my magic into Dramin, willing it to do what it wanted, to bring my brother back. I had begun to feel the warm tendrils of Dramin’s magic awaken when Sain rushed me, his hands rough against mine as he pushed me away from my brother. The force sent me tumbling into Ilyan, his muscles tense as his magic flared in agitation.

I looked at the black of his eyes in shock, only to see the color fade back to bright green before the black replaced it again. The color shifted as his magic ignited, his own demons bringing themselves right to the surface, his carefully crafted calm shattering into ice and glass.

“You know nothing of our kind!” Sain bellowed at me as his eyes continued to flash so that I wasn’t sure what color they were. I cringed away from the sound of his voice, my muscles seizing as he sped on, his words bouncing over each other in their rage. “The blood of a Drak flows through your veins, yet you know nothing! You know nothing of my kind or our rules and laws. You are as foolish as a child and as dumb as a mortal.”

“How can I know anything when you weren’t there to teach me? You abandoned me!” I screamed at him. The words that had fueled me for the last few minutes tumbled through me as my body threatened to collapse, my cheeks burning as the tears came.

“I didn't abandon you.” His cold eyes glinted as if walking out of his five-year-old child’s life was nothing more than walking out a door, simple and meaningless. It wasn’t nothing, though—not to me. It never had been. That one action had dictated my entire life until Ilyan had saved me and I had become more. Now, the man whose actions had defined me sat before me, denying what he had done, denying me.

“You left!” I screamed, my anger rushing out at the lack of responsibility he was taking, the real reason for my anger breaking free.

“I didn’t leave, Joclyn.” His soft voice was so irritating I could barely stand it. “Jeffery Despain left, and I am not Jeffery Despain.”

There it was, the reason I would never be able to view this man as my father. The reason I would never understand the decisions he had made and the reverences he felt toward what he was, what we both were.

Jeffery Despain was my father. And this man was not Jeffery Despain.

I stared at the stranger in front of me as ice ran through my veins, unable to find the right words to say. I only felt numb. Broken.

“Is that why you won’t teach me? Because I am not your daughter?”

Thom’s eyes widened as the words burst out of me, his jaw clenching in anger and pain that I didn’t understand. I pushed away from Ilyan’s hold as I spoke, taking the few steps to face my father from over Dramin’s body.

“I shouldn’t have to teach you; you are a Drak, Silnỳ. It is in your blood. You should know to follow sights, to respect the visions your magic gives you. But to question them? That is not what a Drak, what my daughter, should do.” His voice was calm even though his magic seemed to be on fire.

“You are
not
my father,” I hissed, my anger settling into a low rumble as I faced him, my fists balled at my side. “You left that when you left me.”

“Step away from my son, Silnỳ. If he is meant to die, then I will see it happen, and anything you do to hinder that is heresy to my kind.”

“Enough!” Ilyan roared as he pulled me away from Sain and back into the comforting rock of his chest.

I tried to fight the anger that still pressed against my heart, the pain that filled me as the hope I had clung to for so many years evaporated into the stifling air that surrounded us.

“She hasn’t been taught, Sain,” Thom said from across the room, his rough voice loud as he pleaded with his friend. “How can she know something that has not been fully explained to her?”

“That is not my fault.” Sain stood next to Dramin as he spoke, the already broken fragments of my heart lodging themselves painfully through my chest at the sight of Sain’s hand wrapped around his son’s.

“I know you are in pain; I know you are mourning. But Dramin is not your only child,” Ilyan said, his speech elevated to the level of a command. His magic sparked as his agitation rose and I cringed against it, pressing myself into his chest to listen to the rumble of his voice.

“I do not know—”

“You are better than this, Sain.” Ilyan interrupted him, his words echoing through me as they vibrated his chest.

“As is she, Ilyan.” Sain’s statement faded into the air, the harsh words taking the air out of my lungs.

The muscles in Ilyan’s back stiffened under my touch, his anger at words I was sure I didn’t fully understand a drowning pool in my heart. I looked up to him in expectation, yet his eyes didn’t move from the hard stare he had trained on Sain.

“If you will excuse us,” Ilyan began, his voice a deep boom in the tense silence around us.

He didn’t wait for a response before sweeping us out of the room, his pace quick as he practically carried me down the dimly lit hall. The bracketed torches that were set in the grey wall looked more like blurs as we moved, the light leaving as he closeted us in a small alcove that was hidden amongst the smooth stone.

My pulse quickened at the dark enclosed space. The tightness of the walls made it feel as though they were going to close around me. It was as though I was trapped, like I was cornered in the pit of Cail’s mind, just waiting for Ryland to find me.

“I am here, mi lasko,” Ilyan soothed. His arms came around me, his lips soft as he spoke against my forehead.

Ilyan’s magic ran through me until I felt it inside every inch of my body. I moved my head, careful not to let too much of myself become exposed. Even though I knew this wasn’t a trap, I couldn’t ignore the learned responses that were still ingrained in my mind.

“Are you all right?”

“I don’t understand, Ilyan. I can heal him. I need to save him,” I whispered into the dark.

“You know why you cannot, Joclyn,” he said, his fingers running down my face as he pressed his lips into a tight line. “The Drak believe their sight to be infallible. I know Dramin has told you this, my love. You cannot change a sight.” Ilyan soothed me, his voice low as my heartbeat slowed to match his.

“I know, but I can’t just let him die, Ilyan.”

“You have to. We cannot let it become one of the zlomený,” he whispered, his lips pressing into a tight line.

Yes.
But, Ilyan, the zlomený are sights which have never come… This has come.

I knew I was pleading, but I didn’t care. A man was dying only feet from me, and no one would let me save him. I didn’t care about the sight, about my magic showing me what was to come. Right then, I only cared about saving Dramin.

“Not in its whole, and by healing him, you would be changing the future of a sight thus
creating
a zlomený.”

I cringed at his words as well as the truth behind them. He was right; there had been no burial, so the sight was not completed. But I couldn’t imagine him dead like the rest of the Drak; all of his children, his grandchildren, and his mate. My chest seized at the thought of Dramin being placed in the cold ground, only to be covered by dirt and snow.

“That doesn’t make any sense. If I can change it, why wouldn’t I? Change it, create a better future,” I said aloud, pleading with him to understand me.

“It is the way of the Drak. Dramin would want it this way as well.”

I gasped at the words I didn’t want to hear, their utterance sharp and poisonous.

“You sound like my father.”

“It has to be this way, my love. Whether or not you or I agree, it is the way of the Drak—of your father—and, as Dramin’s father, you have to respect Sain’s wishes.”

I wanted so much to say Ilyan was right—that this choice was right—but I couldn’t. I couldn’t accept that Dramin wanted to die. He wouldn’t have fought for life for so long only to give in. I had seen the sadness in his eyes when I had foreseen his death. He had been accepting of it, but he hadn’t wanted it, not really.

Dramin’s plea for me not to tell anyone suddenly made sense. It wasn’t out of worry for others. He didn’t want anyone to change it; he didn’t want me to change it, and he had known that I would try.

I wasn’t sure I still wouldn’t.

If I can’t change the sights… what does that mean for me, Ilyan?

Ilyan’s thoughts stopped abruptly at my question. The image of him screaming in agony as he held my body surged through me. The sight’s promise of what was coming for me loomed heavy and unwanted. His eyes burrowed into me, so bright I could almost see into him. Into his soul. His movement was slow as his hand came up to cradle my face, the soft skin hot.

“It means I stand by your side,” Ilyan whispered, his thumb softly tracing the line of my lips. “
For you were born and you were bred to only protect her
.” His voice deepened as he quoted the sight, my heart seizing even under his delicate touch.

It wasn’t the words that he had said that had affected me so; it was the words that came after.

The ones that told of my death.

It was those words that made me doubt the truth of the sights at all.

Because if I didn’t, if all the sights were set in stone, then my life was coming to an end just as Dramin’s was. And I wasn’t ready to give up yet.

Five

Dark-blue clouds rolled over the forest that surrounded me from where I sat on the ancient balcony in Ilyan’s room. They blocked out the stars and cast a dull grey shadow over everything. I knew it was well past midnight—it had to be after the night we’d had—but with the storm, there was no way of being certain. The dark blanket of clouds lit up before the distant rumble sounded, warning us of the storm that, when I had been awakened by Ilyan’s war meeting, had been off in the distance. The storm that was now right over us.

I took another drink from the earthen mug I held, the Black Water keeping me nice and warm against the chilled air that caught on the thin cotton pants I wore.

The smell of rain that saturated the air mixed with the scent of eucalyptus that wafted off my hair, making everything around me smell warm and heady. My body was relaxed and my mind clear, thanks to Ilyan.

He had insisted on drawing me a bath when we had returned from Dramin’s room because I couldn’t calm down. I was fuming over my father’s decision and his pigheaded belief in magic that he had so thoughtfully told me I didn’t understand. I had felt broken and beaten by those words and the way he resented me. My soul had screamed at what my future held, fighting against it. Everything had been frayed and broken, making my agitation increase.

So, Ilyan had placed masses of flowers in a hot bath, hung twigs from the ceiling, and placed hot stones on every surface he could find. The whole effect was different from what he had done in Santa Fe, and at first, I thought he had lost it. Then the steam came, the aroma loosening the prison of emotion that trapped me, and I could have hugged him. Though it felt like hours, I was sure I hadn’t spent more than a few minutes in there.