Dawn of Ash (27 page)

“I … I don’t know … I didn’t see—”

“You have sight, and you didn’t see?”

“It’s broken. She broke it…”

My heels tapped against the ground as I moved toward them, hair swinging down my back as I circled them. Father looked up at me, his smile matching mine for a moment before returning to his prey.

“Would you like me to check, Father?”

“Perhaps that is not a bad idea—”

“It was Wyn!” Sain stammered, his voice breaking as my magic attached to his. “Wyn has a piece of the blade. Joclyn saw it, and Wyn attacked her.”

Edmund’s eyes shot to mine and mine to his, his expression one of shock I had never seen in him before it faded to the familiar greed.

“She has a piece of the blade? Where did she get it?” Edmund asked eagerly, his desperation rattling the man he still held.

“From R-Ryland,” Sain stammered before Edmund released him, sending him tumbling toward the ground.

Greed.

Even I felt it now.

After everything, Wynifred had made a misstep. She had done something even she should know better than to do. She had the blade, and if she had a piece of the blade, Father could control her, control the girl with the magic he prized.

With one last grin, he closed his eyes, his face serene as he did what came naturally to him, as he searched out the blade that held the souls of so many he had killed, their magic now inside of him, a direct line if you will.

Eagerly, I waited, breathing heavily as I leaned toward him, anticipating what was to come—some declaration of control, of death.

“She’s close…” he whispered, stepping over the heaving, gasping man as he took my hand in his and pulled me back into the middle of the street. “It is not within her, so my control is limited, but not for long.”

He gestured forward, his eyes trained on the darkness that swallowed the city. I looked between the street and my father in confusion before a small, black figure cut through the red tint of the world in front of us, stumbling, running, screaming. I knew who it was and that my father was in control of her.

Wynifred.

We had come to get information out of Sain. We had come to show the filthy princess a magical race she was being trained to kill, yet, another assassin had walked into our midst. Another assassin had walked into our control.

“Wonderful.” I smiled, my eyes wide as she continued toward us. “What are you going to do with her?”

“I’m going to get you past Ilyan’s wall.” He smiled at me. “If she can get out, then she can get you in. Together, you will destroy his army before he even has a chance to attack us. He will be crippled, and all because of Wyn.”

“Brilliant.”

“Make sure to come back with my new bride, Ovailia. I would hate for dear Wynifred to miss her bonding ceremony tonight.”

This time, I laughed, the sound loud and joyful as I danced before the woman who had been nothing short of my archenemy for several centuries. She didn’t even know what was coming as she walked toward us, her eyes wide as her body propelled her forward without her permission. Her hand wrapped around a shard of red blade I recognized immediately, the panic clear on her face.

She could see us.

She knew what was happening, yet there was nothing she could do.

“Hello, darling,” Edmund cooed, his voice the same he would use before he forced all of his wives into his bed. “I told you I would make you mine eventually.”

Wynifred looked at him in terror as he grabbed her hand, her palm opening to reveal the jagged blade. She couldn’t even move as he lifted the shard and plunged it through the center of her hand.

There was silence for the briefest of seconds, and then her mouth opened wide, a high-pitched scream seeping through the hot air around us.

We laughed.

The mug was dry. It had been dry for the last few hours, but I held it, anyway—clung to it, more like. My tight grip was probably more out of familiarity and desperation for the comfort that was attached to it.

If anything, it was something to hold against my hands as I listened to the screams that had been resonating through the halls for the last few minutes. The pain and agony behind them increased with each wave.

I didn’t need to be told whose they were.

Joclyn’s magic—that powerful Drak magic that even I couldn’t help her understand—was taking control. Either that or, if we were correct, Sain was. Whatever it was Sain had done to her, to her sights—whatever lessons I hadn’t been taught, whether the Zlomený was true or not—it was ripping her apart, just as he had warned. No. Just as he had created.

I hoped she would be strong enough to control it, to defeat it.

To defeat him.

That it wouldn’t devour her.

Subsequently, I sat, staring at the door with the mug in hand, wishing there was a way I could reach her, wishing I was strong enough to walk there, hoping Ilyan would bring her to me.

The scream came again, louder, the sound swallowing the footsteps that were racing toward me, opening the door with a bang so loud I was surprised even Thom didn’t jump.

“Wyn!” Ryland yelled angrily as he barged in, Jaromir on his heels as he searched for the little pixie who normally occupied the space.

“Ryland?” I asked in a panic as his eyes swept over the room to meet mine. “What’s going on?”

Ryland leaned against the door, his bulky frame seeming even more powerful as he pulled to his full height. “Have you seen Wyn?”

“No.”

“Damn it!” His voice was loud, louder than the fist that hit against the door he was leaning against, his powerful strength leaving a long crack in the old wood.

“Ryland!” I yelled his name with as much authority as I could. “What is going on?”

“Joclyn,” he panted, the obvious answer frustrating me. “She was with Wyn. Ilyan thinks she attacked Jos.”

My eyes widened in shock. I hadn’t expected Wynifred to attack her best friend. Six hundred years ago, the thought would not have made me bat an eye. Now, that was not the girl I saw every day. Besides, with the way Joclyn screamed, I had assumed it was her own magic.

“Ryland?” I asked, pulling the blankets off my old, useless legs before I even got a response. “I need you to take me to her.”

“But I—”

“You can find Wyn after. I need to be there now.” My authoritative tone was weakening in my dread, but it was something Ryland didn’t even notice. His focus was so intent on Joclyn I was positive a rhinoceros could have barged through the hall behind him, and he wouldn’t have noticed.

Ryland glanced down the long hall, looking toward wherever else he was supposed to look, the screams of his former best friend rippling around us like perverse bells. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve already looked everywhere. Come on, old man,” he growled as he moved away from the door to pick me up as one would an infant without so much of a warning or question.

My emaciated body sagged awkwardly as he lifted me, holding me against him with a firm grip. I almost asked him to let me go, but then Joclyn screamed again, the sound worse than before, the pain and agony behind it cutting through us both simultaneously. He tensed as I did.

Without another word, he ran, his pace so hasty I was grateful for the close proximity despite how much I was being jostled around by it.

Jaromir followed us at a sprint, his little legs pumping twice as fast in his attempt to keep up with his mentor. The flush on his little face made it clear he had been running after Ryland for the last hour.

I tried to focus on what was coming, on what I could do, on what was waiting for me, but I couldn’t think beyond the pain in her cries, beyond the panic growing in me as her screams did, each jarring step making it worse.

Hallways streamed past me as we ran, clusters of people gathered in corners and against windows as they looked toward the screams, as they gossiped.

My father’s name traveled with us, the rumors that he had spread sprouting into a forest as we reached the people who had gathered outside the king and queen’s chamber. The ugly words repeated with a wide array of worry, fear, and distaste.

I didn’t even care.

“Move!” Ryland growled, his patience obviously gone as he burst through them.

The door swung open and shut around us before any of the rubberneckers had a chance to see inside. It was disgusting how they tried.

“I brought Dramin,” Ryland announced as he rushed into the tiny room, the sound of Joclyn’s pain mutating into a deafening call now that we were within the heavy walls.

I had expected healers to be crammed into the tiny space. However, it was only Ilyan who sat on the bed with Joclyn wrapped in his arms as she screamed, as she cried, as she writhed. Ilyan held her and soothed her, as he had all those months ago when we had been trapped in the cave.

I watched in horror, trying to find some sign of physical injury as she turned toward me, her eyes encompassed in a thick black sheen, seeing and unseeing as they stared into me. Her sight had taken her. Wyn might have attacked her, but it was her sight that was destroying her.

“It’s coming,” she gasped before she whimpered again. “You must run.”

“Good,” Ilyan said, ignoring the words as if they were meaningless. “There is a chair there. Did you find Wynifred?”

“No.” Ryland’s voice was hard as he sat me down. “I’ve looked everywhere.”

Jaromir tried to blend in with the doorframe as if he was unsure if he should be there while my chest tightened further as I faced my sister who needed help I wasn’t able to give.

“I had a feeling she would do this. With what I was able to see and with her magic, she could be anywhere. She could be underground. Risha is still looking…” Ilyan’s voice faded into an uncharacteristic weakness as he clung to Joclyn, her body writhing as her breathing picked up.

“Your další v příkazu will find her. She couldn’t have gone far.” Ryland was confident. I hoped it wasn’t in vain.

People who attacked their best friends often weren’t easy to find, and Ilyan was right. With Wyn’s power, I would guess we should be happy Joclyn was still with us.

“Your feet are not fast enough,” Joclyn moaned from within Ilyan’s embrace, her voice deep and hollow before it broke into the same scream that had been echoing around the halls.

Fighting the need to reach forward and try to connect with her magic, I flinched.

“Has she said anything … helpful?” I asked hesitantly, my chest tight in fear of what could possibly be breaking through her.

“No. I can’t make any sense of it,” Ilyan sighed, his hand pressing against the mark on her neck, the same way he had done so many times before.

She gasped at the contact, her back arching abrasively, but her eyes stayed black, her face blank.

“It sounds like she is talking to someone, mostly things about running and traitors.”

“And screaming,” Ryland provided, his voice a solemn calm as he moved to the foot of the bed.

Jaromir remained leaning against the doorframe as though he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Lots of screaming,” Ryland added.

“And her sight?” I asked as Ilyan fixed me with an expression of such hopelessness that I temporarily found it hard to breathe. “Have you been able to see anything?”

“She was in sight when I found her,” Ilyan answered, his voice heavy, “running through the halls like she was trying to reach something. Her eyes were black. I’m not even certain if she could see me. It hasn’t stopped since.”

Joclyn groaned the second he finished, her voice a loud snap. My spine straightened painfully at the sight of the discomfort rippling across her face.

“I need her, or else it will not break,” she moaned out, the sound a plea as Ilyan pressed his forehead to hers, his lips mumbling a song I couldn’t quite make out.

I watched them, the helpless feeling growing more painful in my chest. I fought the need to grip the chair, knowing by the way Ryland had begun to pace I wasn’t the only one feeling agitated.

“I need to find Wyn,” Ryland whispered from the foot of the bed, his hands clenching the bed rail so tightly his knuckles were turning white. “I need to find her.”

“Wyn can’t help.” My voice was dead as I stared at Ilyan who was now rocking my sister, his face burrowing in her hair before it snapped up to me.