The smell of rain that saturated the air mixed with the scent of eucalyptus that wafted off my hair, making everything around me smell warm and heady. My body was relaxed and my mind clear, thanks to Ilyan.
He had insisted on drawing me a bath when we had returned from Dramin’s room because I couldn’t calm down. I was fuming over my father’s decision and his pigheaded belief in magic that he had so thoughtfully told me I didn’t understand. I had felt broken and beaten by those words and the way he resented me. My soul had screamed at what my future held, fighting against it. Everything had been frayed and broken, making my agitation increase.
So, Ilyan had placed masses of flowers in a hot bath, hung twigs from the ceiling, and placed hot stones on every surface he could find. The whole effect was different from what he had done in Santa Fe, and at first, I thought he had lost it. Then the steam came, the aroma loosening the prison of emotion that trapped me, and I could have hugged him. Though it felt like hours, I was sure I hadn’t spent more than a few minutes in there.
Minutes that had taken off months of stress.
I smiled at the thought just as I heard the bathroom door open behind me, my nerves cinching together at the sound before I felt Ilyan approach me, bringing with him the powerful floral smell he had created.
I drained my mug as Ilyan walked up beside me, his bare back to me as he leaned against the balcony, watching the thunderheads. His skin glistened with the last of the shower water, his dark-blue pajama pants clinging to his hips.
I saw the tension in his back, and for the first time, I began to wonder if he could feel what I could. The anger and sadness of the earth. It came on the wind as the earth mourned the coming battle, and it seeped through the ground from the army that surrounded us, ready to strike. Everything was on edge, the very core of my magic trembling with the oppressive force that threatened to cave me in.
The earth is crying. I knew the phrasing sounded like a child’s comment, however Ilyan understood and nodded once, his gaze still focused off in the distance.
“She can feel the anger that surrounds us. She can feel what is coming,” he whispered reverently.
I could only nod, understanding what he meant. It was more than just the earth that trembled. I could sense the Trpaslíks’ anger in the trees. I could feel the strength of the weird magic off in the distance. I could see the tiny, magical lights flare just beyond the tree line as the Trpaslíks began to wake and light their fires. They were close, so close we could see them and they could see us.
There was a promise of battle in the air; the same promise which drowned my hope that nothing would happen until Edmund himself arrived. To know he was coming, that we expected him, and that I would have to fight him—perhaps when the next sun rose—was terrifying.
“I don’t know if I will be ready in time,” I reiterated my fear aloud, my eyes pulling away from the dangerous depths of the forest and back to the mug I held in my hands.
“You will be,” Ilyan said, his focus still on the bright lightning strikes that covered the sky. “I have seen it.”
“I am beginning to doubt if the sights are true at all, if I want them to be.”
“I am not talking about the sight, mi lasko. I am talking about you,” Ilyan said as he turned to face me, his body towering over me.
I looked up to him in confusion as he slid down onto the stone floor of the balcony, his back pressing into the stone pillars. He leaned forward and placed his hand on my face, the warm current of his magic flowing into me at the touch. His skin was soft as his eyes poured into me, giving me no other place to look, no other place I wanted to look.
“I have seen your strength when you protected me in the snowstorm, when you stood up to Cail in every nightmare, and when you fought Ryland in Santa Fe. I have seen it. I know how strong you are, how confident you are. You are the Siln?, and you will be ready.”
“I don’t feel like the Siln?. To me it is still just a nickname,” I confessed, my voice little more than a whisper.
“You will,” Ilyan promised, his magic slowly leaving until all I felt was that heavy relaxation the bath had given me.
“Well, maybe I will if you keep drugging me like this.” I sighed as I refilled my mug with the warm amber fluid. The sweet honey smell of the Black Water mixed nicely with the fragrance already surrounding me.
“I did no such thing.” Ilyan laughed as his hand dropped from my face. “I only cleared your mind.”
Well, it worked.
“I am glad.” Ilyan smiled at me from where he sat, his short hair glistening with water. He leaned against the banister, one arm draped over his lifted knee as he studied me, giving me an open shot of his bare torso.