Thom stood over Dramin, his hands on his head as he worked over him, healing his body and removing the burns that plagued his organs.
“Any change since last night?” I asked through the silence, but Thom only shook his head, a small sag in his shoulders telling me all I needed to know.
“Nothing.”
“Keep trying, Thom. We can’t lose him.” I grabbed one of the full mugs before turning back to the pair, Thom’s head hanging over his friend, his dreads making him look like he had been trapped in a cage.
“We can try to give him some Black Water later, perhaps it will help.” I raised the glass toward Thom, causing him to look toward me, his eyes shielded by his usual mask.
“At least that poison is good for something.” He forced a laugh, the sound causing the lingering tension in the room to grow.
I opened my mouth to reply when a flare of my magic moved away from me and into Joclyn. Her panic had pulled it to her and I could feel her clinging to it like a lifeline. As it filled her, I felt the erratic beat of her heart and the pressure in her joints. The fear I had worked so carefully to remove from her had come back tenfold. Someone was there in the room with her. Something was wrong.
I said nothing to Thom as I placed the mug back on the table, my feet carrying me out of the room before I could even place the thought in my mind. I ran toward her as the fear grew within her, the panic turning into a yell on her lips, a yell that echoed through the walls of my ancient home.
The sound vibrated around me as I turned the last corner to find Ovailia leaning against the large wooden door to my suite. She looked at me with her usual smug smile, her eyes flashing with a sheen of red I hadn’t seen for hundreds of years.
“So, brother. Are you going to tell me what happened to your hand?” It was such a normal question, I couldn’t believe that she would ask it here, in the hall, while she guarded a door to my own rooms that she had obviously let Ryland through.
“I cut it,” I lied, letting my feet take me closer to her, toward the door she leaned against and the girl I had to save.
Ovailia, however, didn’t move. She stayed where she was with her long frame leaning elegantly across the door. She looked at me with that wicked gleam she had perfected long ago, and I could tell at once that this would not go as planned.
“Get out of my way,” I commanded, careful to keep my magic out of my voice.
“No. He deserves to see his mate. Unless you have taken her for yourself. Did you ruin his mate, brother? Tsk. Tsk. I knew you couldn’t keep your hands off her.” She spoke as if she was relating facts, not the disgusting lies that had just spewed from her lips. I could never do something so vulgar. By the look on her face, I could tell that she had already spread the seed of doubt in Ryland’s mind.
“Don’t say such vulgar things about me!” I yelled, fully aware that the power in my voice was shaking the door she still leaned against.
“Then why can’t he see her?” She raised her voice to match mine, the increase in volume obviously only meant to fuel whatever was happening inside the room.
“Because she will kill him!”
“Oh I doubt that, but if she does, it doesn’t matter. It’s what Father would want. They are both weapons, created only to kill each other.” She sneered, the little twist of her lips identical to our father’s, the action fueling my rage.
“Out of my way!” I roared, placing the magical strain in my voice this time. She started to move, her feet acting as if of their own accord as my magic forced her movements.
I had made it to the door when a yell of pain shot through the heavy wooden door to my suite. I surged my magic into Joclyn, my energy finding the bruised cells in her cheek automatically.
Ryland had punched her.
With one burst of energy, my magic sent Ovailia flying away from the door, her body hitting the wall opposite as it flew from its hinges. In two steps, I was inside. I only needed a glimpse of Ryland’s arm pulling back in preparation for another punch before he too was forced away from her. His body hit stone with such force that a crack fanned away from him, breaking the ancient mortar that kept the wall steady.
I just caught a glimpse of Joclyn rolling off the bed, her small, scared body wedging itself into the small space underneath it, before Ryland recovered himself and Ovailia had moved to his side the moment she entered the room.
“Look what you have done, Ovailia!” I yelled at her in Czech, the look on Ryland’s face making it clear he understood every word. “I won’t play your games anymore.”
“This wouldn’t have happened if you had just let him see his mate. Why couldn’t you do that, Ilyan? I don’t understand. Why can’t he see his mate?” Ovailia had placed just enough desperation in her voice to be able to claim sincerity. Her game was not very well covered, something I am sure she did on purpose.