“Ilyan?”
He didn’t respond to me. He stared at the phone as the screen flashed white and Ovailia’s name popped up on the screen. It rang – once, twice, a third time. We stayed frozen against each other until she answered, the same screams and explosions sounding in the background.
“Ilyan?” Her voice was frazzled and scared. I had never heard her sound so raw before. “Ilyan, where are you? Please tell me you are all right.”
“We are fine, Ovailia. What is going on? Wyn called...”
“They took her,” Ovailia cut him off, panting as she moved through whatever destruction was tearing through the space. “They took Talon too. I don’t know where he is, but Timothy dragged Wyn off.”
“Who’s they?” Ilyan’s voice was hard as he spoke through his tightened jaw.
“Father. Timothy. There are hundreds of them.” I cringed I didn’t need her to elaborate; I knew who they were now, Edmund’s hundreds of Trpaslíks.
“I don’t know how they got in. Our whole city... I don’t know how many are going to make it out.”
“Get out as many as you can, Ovailia. Meet me in Isola Santa in five days. Can you do that?”
There was a break as Ovailia panted, ran, and more explosions filled the air that was already rent with screams. The phone’s speaker vibrated at its exertion.
“I can try.”
Neither Ovailia nor Ilyan said anything as more screams filled the space and more explosions, crying, and pleading sounded around them. I moved my head back into him in an attempt to block it out.
“Be safe, Ovailia.”
“And you, Ilyan.”
The line went dead for the second time and Ilyan’s other arm came to wrap around me. I could feel his heart hammer through his chest, his anger pulsing his magic through his veins, and in turn through my shoulder. I was beginning to understand what Wyn had said about Ilyan’s temper.
Wyn.
“Ilyan?”
“I know, Jos.” I flinched at the use of my nickname. He had never used it before. “I will keep you safe, I promise.”
“And how do you plan on doing that?” I jumped at Cail’s voice, a hundred volts of emotion plunging through me. I clung tighter to Ilyan as I moved my head away from his chest to face the two still figures that stood in the street below us.
“I told you I could find you,” Cail sneered through the dark. I could feel Ryland’s black eyes on me as he stood next to the tormentor from my nightmares.
Sixteen
I stared at the two figures. They didn’t move, didn’t deviate even a millimeter from where they stood. They looked up at us as Ilyan and I looked down on them. Ilyan’s arms never moved away. If anything, they only increased their strength against me. I felt his magic flare, his shield around me growing. Even with Ryland right there, I couldn’t feel the pull of Ryland’s magic through the shield. Which means Ryland couldn’t feel it either.
My eyes fluttered between Cail and Ryland, my heart beating stronger the more I looked. The last I had seen of Ryland was in the dream – and in the dream he was himself, his memories back. But the man before me looked up with black eyes and a menacing snarl as he plotted all the ways he could hurt me.
They both laughed menacingly at us, and Ilyan’s arms pulled me closer to him. I knew why. After what we had heard, neither of us was sure what to expect. I was scared, and by the erratic pulse of Ilyan’s heart, I knew he was too. One of his arms moved away from me, his hand gently facing the two figures below us.
“Relax,” Cail drawled in a falsely bored voice, “we are not here to kill you, at least not yet.” He smiled as his teeth flashed in the dim light.
I could feel Ilyan’s magic swirl angrily under his skin, the power of it growing hot in my shoulder.
“Then what do you want?” Ilyan yelled down to them, but neither of them flinched.
“To give you a message. You must have heard by now that your precious safe house in Prague is gone. The wells of Imdalind are now ours. Imagine what we can do with all that power! And you, the last of the true Sk?ítek, have failed in protecting it.” Cail laughed as Ilyan’s muscles tightened even further. Ryland’s musical chuckle joined in, and I felt the chill of ice run over my skin. That laugh was almost identical to how it used to be. I pushed myself into Ilyan’s side, repeating to myself that it wasn’t Ryland down there.
It isn’t him.
I looked to where Ryland stood, his hair falling over his head the way it always did. I couldn’t help but think that Ryland was still there. I wished I knew a way to pry him out of his prison. I stepped toward him, moving back when his black eyes met mine.
It isn’t him.
“Then what is your message?” I heard the strength in Ilyan’s voice rumble through his chest.