“What do you mean, ‘a sight is never wrong?’” I asked, alarm settling comfortably into my voice.
Dramin’s eyebrows arched precariously high. Ilyan looked worried, and Thom looked like he was preparing to settle in for a show.
“A sight is never wrong, Siln?.” Dramin’s voice was placating, like he was herding baby tigers.
“Now, that’s a matter of opinion, Dramin.” Thom interjected, his voice hard.
“Not in the opinion of the Drak, Thom.” Dramin stared sternly at Thom as he spoke.
Both men stared each other down, jaws and fists clenching. Ilyan’s hand snaked around my waist protectively as he pulled me against him.
“He understands that, my friend,” Ilyan said, Thom’s scowl increasing as the tension built, “he is only talking about the few times where sights have never seen fruition.”
“You are talking about the zlomeny.” Dramin snapped.
“That is exactly what I am speaking of,” Thom spat, “sights which never came to pass.”
“It is hard for a sight to be infallible when the one who gives it is being tortured,” Dramin said, his face inching closer to Thom’s.
“And what about the one who was tortured after? What about her?” I had only seen Thom mad once, when Dramin had given me the Black Water for the first time, and that outburst was nothing compared to this. The air around him seemed to ripple, his dreadlocks shook, and his fists were clenched firmly by his sides.
I looked between them, their faces tight with nerves and frustration. I felt my shoulders knit together as their anger seeped into me.
“That is not the fault of the Drak.”
“I suppose that is a matter of opinion, Dramin,” Thom spat angrily.
“I’d take the word of a Drak over a stubborn Prince any day,” Dramin jibed.
“I’m not a prince anymore, Dramin,” Thom yelled.
“And my sight is never wrong.” Dramin tried to smile, but it was strained.
“Well, I hope you’re right, Dramin.” Ilyan interjected in an obvious attempt to break the tension. “Because tomorrow we will find out exactly what we are facing.” Ilyan said as he moved back into a protective position.
“What happens tomorrow?” Thom asked; his anger only barely masked.
“Well,” Ilyan said. “I’ve been told I was asleep for three days. And if my sister has made it out of the onslaught in Prague, she will be meeting us in Isola Santa tomorrow.”
“What!” Thom bellowed, his anger quickly returning. “For what purpose? So that she can come here for a happy family reunion?”
Ilyan looked toward him, his face making it obvious that he was willing to stand his ground. Dramin, on the other hand, looked on the point of tears.
“You would bring her to our door? You would meet with her?” Thom shouted, his voice threatening fire and his fingers twitching with static magic. “After what she has done to me, to Dramin? She destroyed my best friend and betrayed her love. She is single handedly responsible for the murder of every last member of Dramin’s family, of Joclyn’s family!” The tone of Thom’s voice scared me and I moved up behind Ilyan, his arm wrapping around my waist the second I made contact with him. I felt his magic surge through my shoulder, a shield rippling out around us. I looked up at him, concerned. I hadn’t thought we were in that much danger, but now I was worried.
“You know she was tricked. She was used.” Ilyan spat. “It was not in her full control.”
“To what extent, Ilyan?” Dramin spoke, his voice strained as he tried to keep it level. “Even after everything, she still fought with him for hundreds of years.”
“As did Thom,” Ilyan yelled, his patience gone. He roared and I cringed into myself unsure of where to hide. Ilyan must have sensed my discomfort. His hold on me increased as his magic filled me, his breathing leveling out as he gained control. “She came to me beaten and bleeding. Her heart has been in the right place for the past four hundred years. She has proven that to me.”
“Then why don’t you trust her, Ilyan?” Dramin asked, the tone of his voice controlled.
“I trust her.”
“Not completely.” Thom’s loud voice ricocheted around the cavern and I cringed.
“I have forgiven her the same way I have forgiven Thom. I must trust that.” Ilyan’s voice had almost taken on a pleading edge. He had told me himself that he wasn’t sure if he could trust Ovailia.
“And yet, you still dare to bring her here?”
“She is our sister, Thom, and I must trust her.” The powerful quality of Ilyan’s voice had returned, his tone loud and commanding.
“Then you are a fool.” It was not Thom but Dramin who spoke, his voice like venom.
“How can you say such things, Dramin?”
“You have sentenced us to death,” Thom snapped as he stepped closer, his blue eyes flashing red.