Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)

Apparently, rugby muscles didn’t fade into nothing after spending a year going crazy and being tortured.

“Let me go, Ry,” I growled as I fought against his hold, fully aware that was the most I had spoken to him since the night in the cave on our way to Prague, since the day I had healed Jaromir, the little boy Ilyan had pulled from his mother’s arms.

“Not going to happen, Jos.” His grip was tight yet even. I could tell by the tension in his voice that he was having a hard time keeping a good hold on me. “You’re making a fool of yourself, Your Highness.”

Two words and, just like that, the reality of what I had been about to do, of what I had done, came crashing down on me. The faces of everyone came into sharp focus, the fear in their expressions increasing as they looked from me to Ryland to Sain. But mostly at me, the queen who had, for all they knew, hallucinated the fall of the barrier then turned and attacked her father.

Great.

Joclyn, Ilyan’s voice rushed into my mind, his magic moving into me so fast I was certain I had been blocking it until that moment. You are okay. Everything is all right.

I began to calm, my breath heavy as I stopped pushing against the wall that Ryland had captured me in.

He didn’t let go, and I didn’t blame him. I still felt dangerous. At least skin contact with him wasn’t violently painful anymore.

“What did you do?” I asked my father again, the same volatile anger grinding through my tone.

Sain looked at me, his eyes pushed open wide, his mouth agape as he shook his head, looking to those around him in loss and confusion. “I didn’t do anything, darling.”

Darling? That was a new addition to his repertoire.

It boiled my blood.

“Are you okay?” For the first time, Sain seemed genuinely concerned, but I knew better. “What can I do?”

Stay calm, Jos. I am right here. I am with you. You can face him. Be who you are. Handle him like the queen you are.



“You can tell me what you did.” I tried to keep my voice calm, tried to sound diplomatic. I wasn’t sure either worked. “With the sights. First the Vil?s, that attack last month, and now this. What did you do?”

I was getting angry again, and Ryland sensed it, his hold increasing. Meanwhile, Ilyan’s magic picked up, trying frantically to help.

“I did nothing. The sight was broken with the choices you made, dear child. It is one of the Zlomeny now. I have explained this all before.” There it was, the same excuse he had used for months—my sight was broken. I was seeing things that could never be. My lack of ability had somehow infected his perfect sight. It was how he had gotten away with everything: lying about the Vil? attack, with every broken sight since. “Perhaps, if you cannot control your power, you are not fit to be a Drak.”

I lost it.

Lightning shot from my fingers as I jutted toward the old man, a scream breaking from my lips. Ryland clung to me as he pulled me back, the force of his action calming me as everyone took a step back, several ready to turn and run.

“The power is too much for you,” he continued, standing still before me as though nothing had happened. “I am worried of the risk you are putting us all in.”

“I am not—”

“Even your behavior is not fit for what you are. I stand by what I said before: ‘You are going to kill us all.’ You must learn to control yourself.”

“Sain!” I yelled, but he said nothing more before turning and walking away. More than half the people surrounding him followed him like sheep. The other half lagged behind for barely a moment before they, too, turned away.

I tried one last time to escape Ryland’s hold, but he held on, his hands clasped one over the other like he was going to wrestle me to the floor, something I was sure he had very seriously considered. He had done it plenty of times before, after all.

“What was all that about?” he asked, his voice tense, as everyone around us began to leave.

“What was what about?” I growled as I finally shook him off, both of us knowing Sain was long gone, and I wasn’t stupid enough to follow him.

“Oh, I dunno … you screaming that the barrier was down and then trying to attack your father—”

“Don’t call him that.” I turned to him, my teeth grinding together, hating the familiarity he gave me.

I hated the way he continually glanced at the chain around my neck. It was almost enough to make me want to take it off. Almost.

“The barrier was down,” I growled, folding my arms over my chest in a move that was all too familiar for him. It was taking everything in him not to smile, but I still saw his lip twitch. “I saw it.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t.” Ryland dragged his hand through his curls, his blue eyes growing dark for a minute.

I recoiled, the resemblance to his father making me uncomfortable. Luckily, Ryland didn’t seem to notice.

“It’s just…”

“What?”

“Is what Sain is saying true? About your magic? About you?”

Rebecca Ethington's books