Burnt Devotion (Imdalind, #5)



As if Thom had somehow known exactly what Wyn had in mind, she left moments after he did. However, unlike Sain had said, he made no move to stop her.

She had stared into him in some silent conversation I didn’t even try to follow before she had slowly pushed herself to standing, her weak body leaning heavily against everything we were surrounded by in an attempt to get to Joclyn, to handle the aftermath of the fight with her boyfriend in some ridiculous best friend way that movies liked to pretend they understood.

Months ago, I would have been the first to stand, the first to offer her my arm and lead her out of the room to wherever her destination was, but not now.

Not anymore.

Now, it was all I could do to focus on the chill of the stone wall I pressed my face against and keep my body from rocking, my hands from clawing at my hair.

At least I was trying. At least I was able to.

The small moment of clarity that Wyn had been able to give me had granted me that. Even if everything was loud and confusing, I could remember what sanity felt like now. I had a goal to work toward, no matter how simple it seemed.

I already knew it would be much harder than even I understood.

Until Ilyan had expelled Ovailia from the Abbey, I had been under someone’s control from the moment I had found Joclyn’s mark. For months, I had been trapped in a prison with bars and monsters that were controlled by my father and one of his pawns. What was more, despite the fact that the bars were gone now, despite being in the care of someone who should have been deemed safe, the monsters were still there.

I was still locked inside of my own head, trapped with the voice that plagued me.

Stop messing around! Get up. Find her.

She doesn’t love me anymore.

I know. That’s why you need to stop playing around.

Kill her.

I can’t.

Do it now.

You heard me.

Kill her.

I groaned, a long throaty exhale that rattled my chest and filled the air with more pain. The pressure of Sain’s hand against my leg increased at the noise, and the touch sent a jolt through me with a jerk, the movement going through me like a live wire.

“What is it, Ryland?” Sain’s voice was lined with that same paternal calm that I had learned to love, that had calmed me from the very first time I had heard it.

My focus turned to him before darting away again, and my heart rate picked up to a speed that felt both painful and impossible.

Tell him.

When the voice rattled through my head, I couldn’t stop it. My hand moved to tangle through my hair while my stomach tightened in defeat and fear. I tried to focus on the chill of the stone, the pull of my hair as I had always done. While it did its job, it still wasn’t enough. I continued to hear my father’s voice echo in my mind, his laugh rattling through my soul in such a way that it only brought more fear.

Fear not only for me, but for those around me, as well.

I was sure he was standing right beside me. I could almost feel his hand on my back, prompting me to find and kill them.

“Ryland?” Sain asked again, his voice filled with the same depth I had heard so many times before. “No one is here. It is only you and I.”

He’s lying.

Ilyan is here.

Not far away.

Close enough to kill.

Kill.

You can still hear him.

You can reach him.

He’s not far …

No! I can’t. I won’t. I won’t.

It’s just me and Sain.

That’s a lie.

I’m here, too.

No!

You’re never alone, my son.

You’re not here. You’re not real.

It’s just me and Sain, same as it was before.

I jerked to Sain again, the constant pull of my fingers through my hair lessening for a moment as the reality of what he had said seeped in.

No one else was here.

I’m here.

I pushed the voice from my mind, battling against the pressure it filled me with. Instead, I focused on Sain, determined to overcome and find a way out of the prison my father had created for me.

“How did you know?” I asked, surprised at the clarity of the words that bled from me.

“I know because I’ve lived through what you have.” Sain’s voice was dark, the gravely base filled with more pain than I had ever heard from the old man.

He leaned toward me slowly, the dim green light that surrounded us cutting across the dark shadows of his face and casting him in monstrous shadows.

I pressed myself into the stone as he moved closer and laid his hand on my shoulder in the same pressure that always pulled me back from the monsters Cail had kept me controlled under. Glad when it did the same this time, I exhaled, the painful burn of my oxygen-deprived lungs all but gone now.

“The voice you hear? I heard it, too. I hear it, too.” If I had been surprised at what Wyn had told me before, it was nothing compared to this, nothing compared to the way my eyes widened and jaw tightened.

See? He lies to you, too.

They all lie to you.

All of them.

Rebecca Ethington's books