Scorched Treachery (Imdalind, #3)(5)



Talon nodded and put the tablecloth in the basket, only to freeze at the sight of something over my shoulder.

“What are you two doing here?” Ovailia spat with as much icy venom as she possibly could. I whipped around to see her standing before us, her feet moving back and forth as if she was walking in place, her long arms folded over her slender torso. I instantly moved back into Talon, content to let him take the lead and thankful when he squared his shoulders defiantly against her.

I guess that was the one good thing about growing up with Ovailia; he was used to her. When you can think of someone as a tantrum-throwing toddler with a stinky diaper, their fits as an adult don’t truly bother you.

“That is no longer your concern, Ovailia,” Talon said simply, his voice making it clear he didn’t feel the need to elaborate.

“What?” Ovailia said, her voice airy with surprise. Why she was surprised, I had no idea. I had always assumed it would take pigs standing and walking on their hind legs to surprise her.

“I do not need to remind you of Ilyan’s proclamation regarding who is acting in his stead, do I?” Talon wrapped his arm around me, pressing my shoulder into him.

“No, I remember quite well,” she said snottily, the airy confusion in her voice gone now.

I stared at Ovailia intently, the nerves in my spine jumping sporadically. Something about the way Ovailia shifted her feet was freaking me out. Her whole body was screaming, liar! Run! I couldn’t tear my eyes from the icy blue of hers and the way her lips curled in warning.

“Speaking of Ilyan,” Ovailia asked, her voice hesitant, “how is my dear brother?”

“Wonderful,” Talon said, his voice pinched.

Ovailia smiled but said nothing. Talon began to lead me out of the large room, the basket perched on his hip.

“Oh and Wynifred,” Ovailia sneered the moment we had passed her, “I wouldn’t go poking around in corners if I were you.”

“Is that a threat?” I hissed, my body pulling away from Talon as my magic surged angrily.

“Of course.”

I wanted to lunge at her, but let Talon’s strong arm around my waist serve as a warning. I let him drag me out of the roughly carved chamber and into the smooth stone halls that would take us to our room. I didn’t feel comfortable just leaving her there, but something in Talon’s body language begged me to.

I complied, choosing instead to stick my tongue out at the stone wall that stood between us.

Yes, sometimes I was just that childish.





Chapter Two





I wanted to curl up in a ball and go to sleep, but I couldn’t. Joclyn still hadn’t called.

It was probably foolish of me to expect her to, but I considered her my best friend. I knew she thought the same, and besides, she had called me about everything else. They had been attacked. I didn’t even know where they were. It was getting hard to ignore that angsty, creepy crawly feeling that was working its way up my spine. She should call. Maybe I should call.

I could call, but the way Ilyan was so hush hush about everything, made me question if I should. I was not sure I was allowed. Hell, I was sure I wasn’t allowed.

So, I waited. I curled up in the blankets like a guinea pig and waited until sleep took me, the blonde girl and the Henry the Eighth wanna-be occupying my thoughts almost immediately. I watched the girl dance and the man laugh as he chased her.

He laughed.

He had never laughed before. He had never talked. I had seen his mouth move every night that I slept, but no sound had ever escaped.

It was a dream and I shouldn’t have cared. But even in the dream, I was acutely aware.

The image jumped and bobbed as I watched, the girl flashing from one side of the field to another, the man doing the same before he ended up right beside me.

“We should go,” he said, his voice conspiratorially low.

I would have jumped at the sound of his voice had I been in control of my body. But I wasn’t in control, and I could do nothing. My voice spoke on its own. The dream me smiled and felt joy, while inside, I only felt more and more panic.

“Go where?” I said. At least I thought it was me. It came from me and sounded a bit like me, although the voice was different, more mellow, adult, not the electric youthful tones I had now.

“Away,” he said as he turned to look at me, his blue eyes smiling. I tried to scream and push him away, but I didn’t have control over my arms. My body didn’t move. I could feel my lips smile, even though I didn’t want them to. I could hear my mind think about his eyes, the eyes of his father, royal blue.

His father?

It was my thought. I felt it form inside of me, but it wasn’t mine. It wasn’t true. How could it be? How could I know, how did I know?

“We can’t get away,” that wretched voice spilled out from me again, even though I still fought to control the body.

“We can run,” he said, his voice desperate.

I felt myself screaming, but the body I was trapped in didn’t follow suit. Instead, the body smiled and touched his face. I screamed until my eyes flashed open, the silence of our dark room filling the air in the wake of my nightmare.

I wasn’t sure what had woken me. Not the dream, surely? I always slept through those. But then, the man had never spoken to me before.

I lay still, my mind pushing away the images of the dream while still trying to recall pieces of it. Why would I want to recall that? It was a dream, and I was not a Drak. My dreams had no meaning.

Rebecca Ethington's Books