Watching him writhe as he fought his father’s control after everything he had gone through was heart wrenching. Everything felt tight, everything hurt every time I watched him. I wished I could fix it, but even the shield over his heart wasn’t enough. He was still infected.
“I know, Ry,” I sighed as I leaned my head against his shoulder, my hand tightening around his in what I would hope was a show of comfort. “I know.”
Ryland stiffened underneath my touch, his body tensing in fear and mine followed, suddenly worried about how he would react, realizing that this type of contact was as foreign to him as it was to me. However, he relaxed only a moment later, his head laying itself over mine as Sain burst back through the entry to the old stone kitchen. Dramin perked up from where he sat at the round table across from us at the return of his father.
“He’s coming.” Sain had more irritation in his voice than was possible for him. From what I had noticed, he usually kept that disappointment reserved for Joclyn.
But I guess Jos and Ilyan kind of went hand in hand now.
“At least, I hope he is. I don’t want to have to go back down there a third time.”
“He will come, Father. Have faith in our king.” Dramin’s voice was calm from where he sat across the kitchen. His focus was on one of the two mugs that sat before him and not on us.
“I will have faith in him when he starts making choices that are more conducive for all of Imdalind.” Sain’s voice held scorn, something Dramin firmly ignored, while Thom grunted loudly from the other side of Ryland, his dreads swinging as he threw his head back and laughed.
I flinched at the sound, the hostility behind what used to be so joyful throwing me off.
“Yes, because your choices are so effective for everyone,” Thom exclaimed loudly, his voice echoing around us like a bass drum.
“I speak only for the Drak.”
“I speak only for the half breeds, and they don’t seem to be complaining,” Thom growled, the bench we sat on shifting as he stood. Ryland and I rocked so abruptly that Ryland jerked, his voice moving into a howl of fear that wrenched through my muscles and sent both men rushing to his side, whatever face-off that had been about to take place forgotten.
We needed to get out of here, start moving, start fighting. The tension in this abbey was growing far too quickly. The violent waves of magic from the armies that surrounded us were affecting us all.
“I was afraid of this,” Sain’s voice was low as he stood over Ryland, his hands on his shoulders as he, too, tried to comfort him.
“You mean that he would turn into an uncontrollable weapon right as we are about to leave?” I couldn’t keep the snottiness out of my voice, a fact Thom seemed to enjoy as he laughed darkly beside me.
Everything about what Edmund had done seemed far too perfectly planned right then, and our escape appeared that much more impossible.
No matter how much I loved a challenge, this one was not one I was looking forward to. I cared for these people too much. I needed to protect them.
Even Dramin.
If only to prove to him that I was worth it. That I was sorry.
“I’m sitting right here,” Ryland sighed, his voice broken as he dropped his head into his hand, the long strong fingers of his free hand pulling at his curls roughly. I clung to the other one more tightly.
“Sorry, Ry.” It was all I could think to say.
My voice was a whisper against Ryland’s labored breathing, Dramin’s pained exhales, and the exasperated sighs of both Sain and Thom. The quiet of the room was almost as loud, as if each of us were voicing our unsaid fears and worries that were more like a plague.
The words came to me on instinct, as they always did. Perhaps it was because I had sung the song to Joclyn only hours before or because I had just woken up from yet another dream with Talon, but they were there. The words were a calm comfort to me, a pleasant reminder of so many positive memories.
“I know you feel these are the worst of times, I do believe it’s true…”
“What?” I smiled at Thom’s question, at his lack of knowledge of something that, to me, was such a common base.
“It’s a song from this band I like—”
“Styx, I know. I lived through the 70s and 80s, too. Although I preferred Queen.” He smiled as I did, my mind trying to wrap around the millions of possibilities that one statement could hold for me.
I opened my mouth to ask as Ilyan and Jos walked in, and anything I had been planning to say was instantly gone. Gone as if it had never happened, as if the air had been sucked from the room.
Yes, he was the king. Yes, she was my best friend. It should have been a boring normal entrance, except it wasn’t. Not by the way they stood next to each other, not by the way his hand rested protectively on her back.
My eyes were wide as I stared at them, fighting the smile at what was as clear as day, even without the long, golden ribbon that trailed from Ilyan’s hair.