Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4) (30 page)

My eyes widened as her hands gripped around my forearms, bringing my attention back to her and away from the way all the blood had drained from Ilyan’s face.

“If I had known I only had a day, only an hour. If I had known everything when I had made the choice,” Wyn’s voice broke as she looked into me, her eyes shining with the emotion she had tried so hard to keep away, “I would still do it again in a heartbeat.”

“That is awfully deep for you, Wynifred,” Thom barked as he strode into the room, his deep voice only increasing the uncomfortable, smothering blanket that had covered me. He laughed as his hand slid over Wyn’s shoulder, causing her to freeze in place, her eyes widening in as much fearful embarrassment that had been raging through me for the past few minutes.

Her jaw dropped slightly before she recovered, her mouth shutting with a snap as she turned to glare at Thom.

“Yes, well, what can I say? I am a shallow pool of misery, Thom.” Wyn dropped my arms as she spoke, her body quick to turn and grab one of the other glasses she had filled minutes before.

She said nothing else as she drained the glass in one gulp, slamming it on the table as she had with the last one before she walked toward Ilyan, her face screwing itself up into a mischievous grin.

“Do yourself a favor, Ilyan. Think of yourself every once in a while. It’s what Talon always said. He worked so hard for you because he wanted you to have something for yourself. You can’t think of everyone else all the time. Find your own happiness.” Wyn said it all very quickly, her sass seeping out like some sort of poison as her words slurred together.

I stiffened at her bluntness, the way she spoke to Ilyan more shocking than what she had said. I swallowed as I forced myself to look away from the rebuttal that I was sure Ilyan was going to dish out.

Nothing came.

“Thank you, Wynifred.”

I would have expected Wyn to shy away from the acid in his voice, yet she stood still, her body swaying slightly as the over-potent alcohol began to take effect.

Ilyan looked down at her briefly before he moved away, walking right up to me and wrapping his arm around my shoulders. He said nothing as he held me against him before his hand slid down my arm, his fingers intertwining with mine.

I could feel that his body was somehow warmer than it had been before. Everything felt heavier just knowing he had heard what Wyn had said. At his touch, my heart rate sped to match the quick drum that lay in Ilyan’s chest. I almost cringed at the nervous pressure that had built up inside of him, a shadow of it moving into me as his skin slid against mine. I let my magic flow into him, desperate to hear even a shadow of what he had heard—what he had thought—only to be met by a dark wall of Ilyan’s magic.

He had blocked me out.

I could feel his mind, his emotion. I knew they were there, but what he was thinking—what he was guarding—was kept from me.

Ilyan?
I sent to him in my panic. He didn’t so much as look at me. He only leaned down and grabbed the last full glass, his eyes focused on the blood-colored liquid in his hands.

“Where did you find the Slivovica?” he asked as his hand tightened around mine. “I had thought we had used the last before we burned the manor in Brno.”

I kept my eyes on him as he spoke, waiting for him to look down at me as he always did, but he stayed straight and tall, his frame elongated against me until I felt shorter than I knew I actually was.

Ilyan?
I tried again, my heart rate picking up when he once again ignored me. I almost wondered if he could hear me, but I felt his heartbeat pick up as I said his name, his nerves almost setting me on edge. Ilyan was nervous. The simplicity of the thought piqued my own nerves and I shivered, trying not to let my worry take over.

“I found this bottle when I was going through some stuff,” Wyn said as she moved to refill the other two glasses that she had already drained. “It’s the last one.”

Her tone was soft and sad as she overfilled the glasses, causing the liquid to pour down the side and onto the table.

Don’t block me out,
I pleaded, careful to use the same words he had used with me before. This time I knew he had heard me. His lips turned up ever so slightly as he turned to look at me, the hungry look in his eyes catching me on fire.

My breath caught in my chest as I gazed at him, his smile increasing until he leaned toward me, his lips pressing against the hollow of my ear. I stifled a gasp at the warmth of his lips against my skin, his hand tightening around mine as he pulled me into him.

“I need to speak to you,” he whispered, my spine tingling as his breath ran over my skin.

Then talk,
I pleaded, not trusting my voice to form cognitive words.

“Not here,” he whispered before he pulled away, the grip on my hand loosening until he was gone.

His body was still close enough that I could feel the heat of him; it would only take one short movement to reach out and touch him. Still, that distance could have been a football field. I don’t know why, but those two words had somehow closed me off from him. My worry about what was on his mind increased until it was a tight, little ball in my chest.

“The timing couldn’t be better.” Thom leaned down and grabbed one of the now-filled glasses, his voice pulling me out of the revelry Ilyan had trapped me in.

I stepped toward the table cautiously, not sure where I fit.

“Na zdraví,” Ilyan announced, his voice deep and regal as he lifted his glass toward the ceiling.

“Na zdraví,” Thom and Wyn repeated in unison as they followed suit, all of the glasses held above their head before they lowered them, draining the contents in one swallow.

The room filled with the thump of the glasses against the table, the sound sending a jolt through me. They stood in silence, their eyes closing as each of their faces turned down in a solemn reverence that I did not quite understand. Watching them—watching a tradition that reached back before much of what I had retained in history class—was awe inspiring.

And lonely.

I felt like I was intruding on something beautiful, something I wasn’t quite sure I would ever understand. Wyn silently moved to refill the glasses, none of them speaking before they raised their glasses again.

“To Talon,” Ilyan said, his voice breaking on the word, the name of the friend he had lost.

That everyone had lost.

“To Talon,” Thom’s voice rang clear, but Wyn’s stuck in her throat. Even though I saw her mouth move, no sound escaped.

Their hands stayed above their heads before they again drained their glasses, dropping them back to the table. Once again they looked down, their faces masked in pain and regret before Wyn moved to refill her empty cup.

“For my brother, who gave up everything,” she said as she filled the one she had just drained, the liquid pouring over the side as her hand began to shake.

She handed the bottle to Ilyan who took it steadily and filled his glass right to the brim.

“For Talon. Goodbye, my friend,” he said, his eyes still focused on the glass on the table below him.

I couldn’t help it; even though the tight knot of nerves still sat in my heart, I heard the pain in his voice, and my heart reacted. I closed the football-field-sized gap and wrapped my arm around his waist, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as I came to stand next to him. I heard his breath catch as his arm moved over my shoulders, his lips pressing against the top of my head.

Ilyan passed the bottle to me, the glass heavy and uncomfortable in my hands. I looked up to Ilyan, sure he had made a mistake, but he only looked at me, a single nod of his head prompting me to continue.

A shaky breath fled from my chest as I looked at the bottle. I knew what I was supposed to do; I knew who I had lost, who my heart still longed for.

“For my mom,” I said as I partially filled the glass, the pressure in my chest growing as wet tears began to cloud my vision. Ilyan’s arm tightened around me in support as I passed the bottle to Thom, his hand already shaking as he took it from me.

“For Rosaline. Your life was not in vain, my child.” Thom’s voice broke as he poured, the glass overfilling before the bottle came clattering to the ground. Wyn gasped at the sound, tears falling in rivers down her cheeks as she moved to wrap her arms around Thom, their bodies pressed close together as they cried into each other.

My heart clenched as his words sunk in, the admission of what each of them had lost in the war sounding louder than a million battle cries. It echoed through my soul, louder than a million cannon booms. I stood still as I watched their faces, the way that Wyn and Thom clung to each other, and my heart broke.

I loved the people in this room, and to see their loss, feel their pain…

I didn’t want that to happen, not anymore.

We had all lost someone—someone precious—all at the hands of a man who had built an army, who had declared our end.

I wouldn’t let him take anything more from us.

I might still be plagued by the demons Cail had infected me with; I might fear the sights I had been given, the prophecy of my death.

But I was also infected with strength, and with power, and with a reason to fight.

“To happiness,” Ilyan said loudly before he pulled me toward the door, leaving the full glasses on Wyn’s table.

Leaving them in hopes that our own names wouldn’t join them.

Nineteen

Ilyan’s arm was tight around me as we walked down the hall, and even with the awkwardness of our position, we still walked smoothly, his hand steadying me as he held me against him. The way he held me, so soft and gentle, calmed the knot in my chest. Almost. I continued to feel it, the fear of what he wanted to talk about still strong. It was numbed by the calm that being next to him gave me, though.

He hadn’t spoken a word since we left Wyn’s room. I wanted to know what I had just witnessed—know if he was all right after walking in on Wyn’s strange proclamation—but he stayed silent. His face was an expressionless mask as we walked through the dim light from the dilapidated torches that lined the halls, each one casting odd, flickering shadows of light and dark over the stones.

The brightness of the magical light covered the smooth lines of Ilyan’s face, giving him dark valleys that made him more intense, more desirable. I refused to look away from him as he led me down the halls, my heart caught between fear and expectation. Even though I was sure he knew I was staring at him, he didn’t seem fazed. He just continued to move us forward, staring straight ahead.

“Can we talk now?” I whispered when I couldn’t wait anymore, my soft voice pulling him out of a trance as he looked down at me and pulled us to a stop.

I followed his lead, unable to make any other choice as his eyes held me captive. His hand reached up to caress the skin of my jawline as I looked at him, my breath catching at the look in his eyes, the way his touch sent fire and lightning into my spine, the jagged jolts of electricity rushing through me.

I could tell right then that something was different—his gaze was different, his touch was different. Something had changed. I searched him as he held me, his face giving no more clues than the undying love that I already knew he felt. The eternity behind his eyes opened into me as a million words and hopes and memories passed through the depths of our connection before he leaned toward me, his eyes holding mine as his breath blew warm against my face while his nose ran the length of mine. The touch pulsed through me as his ragged breathing flowed over my lips, making me forget how to breathe. The warmth of his touch ravaged any hope of logical sense I had.

I gasped for air before he pressed his lips against mine, the pressure desperate as the warmth of him spread through me. A storm of rejoicing power erupted as our magic met and mingled, the tiny little lights that had become so familiar to us popping and sparkling in the chilled air around us.

Ilyan pulled away before I was ready, his soft touch leaving me reeling, gasping for breath as my soul hungered for more.

Ilyan?
I asked, not trusting myself enough to speak aloud, unable to keep the confusion inside any longer. My question filled his mind and he smiled, his fingers fluttering against my chin as his hands shook, his eyes opening to meet mine again.

“I think Wyn is right,” he said softly, his voice moving over my skin and sending chills down my arms, a hundred goosebumps growing to speckle over the skin.

“What do you mean?” I asked breathlessly, my heart thundering in my chest as my heart put possibilities of his meaning into place, possibilities that I couldn't help letting tie my stomach into knots.

Ilyan smiled at my question, his lips twitching playfully as his fingers ran down my neck then over the collar of my shirt until they came to a stop right over my heart, his touch gentle. The treacherous organ beat so fast I was sure he could feel the frantic movement through his fingers, the echo of it inside of him as his own tried to keep time. He smiled wider as the bass beat of it moved through him, the look of pleasure on his face heating my blood.

I tried to control my reactions, foolishly waiting for Ilyan’s answer before he wrapped his arm around me and carried me down the hall, his pace quick as he held me against him. Our feet were soft against the lowrumble of thunder that filled the halls, the sound lost in the deep patter of the rain.

Ilyan turned a corner at full speed—a corner I was sure did not take us to his room—before he ducked into the tiny alcove we had tucked ourselves into once before, the closeness of the stone plunging us into almost complete darkness.

I gasped as the darkness moved into me, my heart rate increasing for a completely different reason. Then Ilyan’s hand pressed against my neck, his magic plunging into me while his lips crashed against mine. The pressure of them was startling as his hands moved over my back, pulling me against him.

I lost all sense of fear at the touch of his hand against me, the feel of his fingers in my hair before I wrapped my arms around him, my tongue darting over his lips as I clung to him, my lungs forgetting to breathe, my heart too preoccupied to beat. I hungered for him as my magic reacted, filling air and space at his touch, the lights popping in the air until the darkness we had been surrounded by became as bright as day.