Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)

“It was all a dream,” I said aloud, begging myself to believe it. “Just a dream.”


I took in another quaking breath as I pushed my fear into nothing, turning toward the balcony that looked over the forest.

I knew I shouldn’t look; I knew it was foolish, but I couldn't stop myself. I turned as the darkness of the cloud-covered sky met my eyes, a fork of lightning cutting through the dark and I jumped, only to be met with the empty balcony.

I took one cleansing breath before there was a loud knock on the door, the sound echoing through the silence of the night.

Fear tensed through my back as I pulled the blanket up to my chin, my fingers knitting through the soft cotton. My mind screamed for me to hide, to run. I stayed still, though, my body crippled in fear as my mind fought the panic that the ragged remains of the nightmare only seemed to heighten.

I peered through the darkness that surrounded me as the knock came again, this sound more persistent, almost fearful. I looked toward Ilyan, ready to wake him up when a muffled noise came from the other side, and the anxiety that had wound its way through my spine loosened.

“Open up,” Wyn pleaded, her voice low and strained.

My eyes widened at her voice, my magic flying away from me until I felt the warm strength that surrounded her hit me. I should have felt the familiar pulse of her magic before, but the heightened aggression from the forest had smothered it, my own panic forgetting to check.

It was her.

I navigated my way through the darkness that felt heavy and forbidding, opening the door to Wyn to find the hallway lit with shadows of black and light from the orb of orange light that hovered above her hands. She was dressed in dark washed jeans and a black leather jacket that looked vaguely familiar, the dark colors making her blend into the pitch of the hallway.

“Took you long enough,” she said as I opened the door, her voice strained. I had been so happy to hear her voice, but that joy slipped into the darkness as I caught sight of the deep worry that lined her face, my own anxieties trying to flare again.

“Is Ilyan awake?” she asked, the panicked edge growing more persistent.

“No.” I shook my head. “Is everything okay?”

I asked the question, even though I could see the answer in her eyes.

Wyn sighed and looked past me into the darkened room, her brows knit together as she tried to decide what to do. I just stood still as I waited, not knowing if I should let her in or not. I wasn't exactly sure of the protocol in a situation like this. I couldn’t exactly say, ‘Please come in and wake up your shirtless king. I'm sure he won't mind,’ and be met with happy smiles. Ilyan didn’t wake up easily. Besides, I was sure that he would mind a lot more than Wyn would assume. So I stayed still, my shoulders tense as I blocked her path, waiting for her to explain why she was here.

“I'm not sure yet. I was on guard and… something has changed. I want Ilyan’s opinion,” she whispered as her eyes darted back to me, even though it was obvious I wasn’t the one she wanted to be talking to.

It didn’t matter. I knew what she was talking about because I had felt it. I had felt the swell of anger when I had woken up. I could still feel it now, prickling through the air, no matter how much I tried to ignore it.

“Is it about the anger in the camps?” I asked.

“You feel it, too?” she asked, the awe in her eyes taking me off guard. I looked at her for a minute before nodding once, not sure how else to respond to her.

“I don’t know what it is,” Wyn said, the deep alarm in her voice growing. “We haven’t had a bigger swell of them from what I can tell, but something is different.”

Wyn shuffled her feet as she spoke, making it clear that there was something she wasn’t telling me. Something was wrong, something must be coming. If something was coming… I swallowed heavily, pushing the thought from my mind. Just knowing that something was wrong felt like a contagion against my heart. We needed Ilyan.

“You better come in,” I said before stepping aside and closing the door behind her. I didn’t know if Ilyan would approve of this decision, but I had a feeling this was something he needed to know right away.

The light Wyn held in her hands suddenly flew away from her and nestled in the large wooden rafters of the ceiling only to cast weird fingers of light over the room. It flickered in elongated shapes that brought some of the horrors of my dream back. I looked toward the window, almost expecting to see Edmund there, but it was empty.

“It is so weird that you two sleep together,” she said from right behind me, obviously seeing the rumpled sheets that I had jumped out of a moment before.