Eyes of Ember (Imdalind Series #2)

I began to run into the forest. I darted through trees and jumped over rocks, my breath coming in sharp bursts as I exerted myself. I had reached about two hundred yards from where I started when I heard it: the growling, the laughing, and the panting. It all flooded over me and I picked up my pace.

My running took me straight into a large hedge. I jumped swiftly over it only to land right back in the middle of the clearing, face to face with Cail who stood in the center inspecting his fingernails as if he was bored. Edmund stood behind him, but he was faded somehow, as if he was looking in through a fog.

“Tsk. Tsk. Running from me, Joclyn? Really? Are you that scared?” Cail mocked me and I took half a step back before bringing my feet together again. I stood straight in front of him, chin held high.

“No.” I let enough magic stream through my fingers to let the electricity crackle between them. Cail smiled at my taunt, excited at the prospect of a fight.

“Really? I mean, you should be. You haven’t made us very happy, you know – escaping from Edmund’s trap yet again, surviving no matter how hard we try to kill you. It’s not fair.”

Cail gestured toward Edmund who smiled slightly.

“Make it good, Cail.”

“Of course, master.”

Both men smiled before Edmund’s shape shimmered and disappeared from view. I flinched as a jolt of fear lodged itself in my chest. I clenched my jaw and ignored it.

Cail circled around me as he spoke, his eyes never leaving me. His hand reached out and glided down my long hair. I pulled away from the touch, but he only smiled more.

“Did you come bringing another message, Cail, or is this the only way you can even get close to a woman?” my voice was hard as I looked away from him, locking my jaw in defiance.

Cail laughed a bit, pulling my hair up to his nose. He inhaled the scent as I moved away from him, the strands pulling from his grasp. He kept his hand against his nose as he looked up at me, his intense gaze causing me to shrink away.

“Hmmm, no message. I just enjoy spending time with you.” I laughed at him, the hollow sound giving my nerves away.

“Yeah right,” I scoffed. “You only like spending time with me if it involves attempted murder.”

Cail smiled wider at my voice, his body moving closer to mine.

“Or torture,” he added, his smile growing. I stepped away again, hating how insecure I was feeling.

“Is that what Edmund told you to do, Cail. To torture me?” He didn’t answer. He just continued his descent into my personal space.

“Ryland told me you knew. He said you now know that Ilyan loves you. Is that true?”

“Ilyan doesn’t love me,” I shot back, side stepping him to move across the clearing. I didn’t like how this was going. There was always more than this. More screaming, more crying, more pain. “Not in that way.”

“Oh, so he hasn’t told you. Could it be that I know more then you at this point in time? Ooo, I would love to see your face when you figure everything out – what Ryland did, what Ilyan is keeping from you. This game gets more and more exciting.” He clapped his hands, his eyes dancing in a way that made my insides squirm.

“This isn’t a game!” I yelled at him, making my voice ricochet off of the trees and surrounding the clearing with the sound of my outburst.

He froze, his face blank for a moment before the grin returned.

“Not a game you say? Well, what do you say we turn it into a game?” He came up behind me quicker than I had expected him too, his hands wrapping around me and holding me in place. He rested his chin against my shoulder, my insides squirming at the unwelcome contact.

“Why don’t we see who has the upper hand?” His voice was soft in my ear, I moved my head away from him, but he followed, keeping his cheek against mine.

“Bring them out!” he yelled. I cringed against the sound but his arms still held me against him.

I felt my fingers crackle, my magic was surging in expectation of an attack, but I pushed it away. It wouldn’t work here anyway.

I watched as dark shapes began to form in front of me. They were not the regular shapes of Edmund’s henchmen, they were rounded balls that were accompanied by the grunts, groans, and screams of injured people being forced to move. My mouth opened in a silent scream as I saw the forms break between the trees. One after another they came, each of their broken bodies framed by two of Edmund’s men. I looked to each of them, Ryland and Wyn fighting weakly against their captors, Talon weak and still on the ground, and a man I didn’t recognize. The man lifted his gaze to mine and I knew at once who he was.

My Father.