The room shifted into panic at the knowledge, the already battle worn refugees’ hope squashed only moments after it had been fed.
Ilyan lifted his hand, and without a word, the room fell to silence with the command.
Everyone looked at him in expectation, in fear, in reverence, in emotions I didn’t understand and emotions I felt in myself. Ilyan sat beside me in silence, his eyes closed in calm, though I could feel the waves of uncertainty and panic move through him.
I let my magic fill him on instinct, the warm tendrils moving through him and wrapping his fears in a mask that, while it did not calm him completely, made the tension in his body loosen. His eyes opened to look at me with that deep admiration that always took my breath away.
“That doesn’t mean there is no escape,” Ilyan’s somber voice rumbled through the silence. “We came here fully expecting to fight. We fought in Rioseco, and we will fight here. Even if it ends in our death. We are Sk?íteks. We have been born to protect the magic of the world, to protect the wells of Imdalind. That is why we have come. That is why you still live. It is our duty to protect this world and all the power it holds. We may be trapped here, but it is not in vain. It is for the safety and security of all.”
I tensed at his words, at the admission, at the possibility. We had only barely escaped in Rioseco, and the idea that we would flee only to come here and die without reaching our end goal—without killing Edmund—rattled me.
It was the fear of the prophecy that I had been fighting for so long.
I cringed against Ilyan, while everyone else seemed to relax, the heavy fear that had impregnated the room lifting with each word he spoke. Now, I understood why.
It was as Ilyan had said.
They were the Sk?íteks—the warriors and protectors of magic. They had been born for this. They had trained for this. It would be easy to say that I was not one of them, that this was not my fight.
But it was.
Because I was one of them.
I held their magic in me, not only through the Vil?’s bite that graced my neck, but through the bond I shared with Ilyan. It was a powerful force so strong that, despite rebelling against the words Ilyan spoke—rebelling against the possible death—I felt my magic react. I felt it rumble in the same desperate understanding.
“What do you suggest we do, my lord?” Risha asked, the fear gone from her voice. She leaned across the table through the dark, her eyes wide as everyone moved closer, waiting for instruction, and with that look in their eyes, they were ready to begin.
“We know where Edmund’s men are, and I think we can ascertain his plan based on how he has acted and what he has done. If we gather who is left of our kind together, we may be able to find a way to infiltrate his ranks and get Joclyn and I close enough to defeat him.”
My magic surged at the power in his words, the rumble of certainty coming stronger with each syllable.
Murmurs of excitement swirled around me as my magic continued to grow, the force drowning out the quick Czech that had sprouted around me.
Risha and Ilyan moved to fortify a plan and find a safe space large enough for all of us on the odd, makeshift map.
I knew I should be paying attention. I should be picking apart the words and understanding what came to everyone else so easily, but I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t think beyond the force of my power and the way my head had begun to spin and turn above and beneath me.
The sensation was familiar, but here, among all these people, I did not know if it was one I should be having. I didn’t know if they should know of my true nature.
Cover my eyes, I pleaded, knowing what was coming and not wanting anyone to see. Not wanting them to know the full extent of my powers.
It was how it had been for so long. It had been so crucial for Ryland not to know, I had assumed the rule here would be the same. However, Ilyan merely chuckled, his arm tightening around me as he pressed his lips to the hollow underneath my ear.
“I will only cover your power if you truly do not want them to see, mi lasko,” he whispered, his voice deep and heady. “There is no need to hide anymore.”
His grip against me was a comforting weight, the love that swelled from him a strength I didn’t expect.
It was more than pride at what I was and what I had become that swelled within him, however. It was more than a need to show his people the Siln? they had all been waiting for. It was admiration. It was a deep-rooted love and support that worked to build me up, to set me free, and to let me be without fear of recourse, of judgment.
I could hear the thoughts clearly within his mind, the desire to let me be who I was. To support me as I became what I needed to be. What I wanted to be.