Ryland glanced down the long hall, looking toward wherever else he was supposed to look, the screams of his former best friend rippling around us like perverse bells. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve already looked everywhere. Come on, old man,” he growled as he moved away from the door to pick me up as one would an infant without so much of a warning or question.
My emaciated body sagged awkwardly as he lifted me, holding me against him with a firm grip. I almost asked him to let me go, but then Joclyn screamed again, the sound worse than before, the pain and agony behind it cutting through us both simultaneously. He tensed as I did.
Without another word, he ran, his pace so hasty I was grateful for the close proximity despite how much I was being jostled around by it.
Jaromir followed us at a sprint, his little legs pumping twice as fast in his attempt to keep up with his mentor. The flush on his little face made it clear he had been running after Ryland for the last hour.
I tried to focus on what was coming, on what I could do, on what was waiting for me, but I couldn’t think beyond the pain in her cries, beyond the panic growing in me as her screams did, each jarring step making it worse.
Hallways streamed past me as we ran, clusters of people gathered in corners and against windows as they looked toward the screams, as they gossiped.
My father’s name traveled with us, the rumors that he had spread sprouting into a forest as we reached the people who had gathered outside the king and queen’s chamber. The ugly words repeated with a wide array of worry, fear, and distaste.
I didn’t even care.
“Move!” Ryland growled, his patience obviously gone as he burst through them.
The door swung open and shut around us before any of the rubberneckers had a chance to see inside. It was disgusting how they tried.
“I brought Dramin,” Ryland announced as he rushed into the tiny room, the sound of Joclyn’s pain mutating into a deafening call now that we were within the heavy walls.
I had expected healers to be crammed into the tiny space. However, it was only Ilyan who sat on the bed with Joclyn wrapped in his arms as she screamed, as she cried, as she writhed. Ilyan held her and soothed her, as he had all those months ago when we had been trapped in the cave.
I watched in horror, trying to find some sign of physical injury as she turned toward me, her eyes encompassed in a thick black sheen, seeing and unseeing as they stared into me. Her sight had taken her. Wyn might have attacked her, but it was her sight that was destroying her.
“It’s coming,” she gasped before she whimpered again. “You must run.”
“Good,” Ilyan said, ignoring the words as if they were meaningless. “There is a chair there. Did you find Wynifred?”
“No.” Ryland’s voice was hard as he sat me down. “I’ve looked everywhere.”
Jaromir tried to blend in with the doorframe as if he was unsure if he should be there while my chest tightened further as I faced my sister who needed help I wasn’t able to give.
“I had a feeling she would do this. With what I was able to see and with her magic, she could be anywhere. She could be underground. Risha is still looking…” Ilyan’s voice faded into an uncharacteristic weakness as he clung to Joclyn, her body writhing as her breathing picked up.
“Your dal?í v p?íkazu will find her. She couldn’t have gone far.” Ryland was confident. I hoped it wasn’t in vain.
People who attacked their best friends often weren’t easy to find, and Ilyan was right. With Wyn’s power, I would guess we should be happy Joclyn was still with us.
“Your feet are not fast enough,” Joclyn moaned from within Ilyan’s embrace, her voice deep and hollow before it broke into the same scream that had been echoing around the halls.
Fighting the need to reach forward and try to connect with her magic, I flinched.
“Has she said anything … helpful?” I asked hesitantly, my chest tight in fear of what could possibly be breaking through her.
“No. I can’t make any sense of it,” Ilyan sighed, his hand pressing against the mark on her neck, the same way he had done so many times before.
She gasped at the contact, her back arching abrasively, but her eyes stayed black, her face blank.
“It sounds like she is talking to someone, mostly things about running and traitors.”
“And screaming,” Ryland provided, his voice a solemn calm as he moved to the foot of the bed.
Jaromir remained leaning against the doorframe as though he didn’t know what to do with himself.
“Lots of screaming,” Ryland added.
“And her sight?” I asked as Ilyan fixed me with an expression of such hopelessness that I temporarily found it hard to breathe. “Have you been able to see anything?”
“She was in sight when I found her,” Ilyan answered, his voice heavy, “running through the halls like she was trying to reach something. Her eyes were black. I’m not even certain if she could see me. It hasn’t stopped since.”
Joclyn groaned the second he finished, her voice a loud snap. My spine straightened painfully at the sight of the discomfort rippling across her face.