Imdalind 01 - Kiss of Fire

comforter in an attempt to ignore him.
    “You have to get out of bed sometime, prosím Joclyn.” He placed his hand over the blanket, the weight of it pushing into my shoulder. I wished he would move away. I didn’t want his comfort.
    “Leave me alone,” I said, my voice harsh.
    “I can’t do that, Silnỳ. You know I won’t.” Ilyan’s Slavic accent grew deeper as he spoke.
    I knew he wouldn’t leave me alone. He had been trying to get me out of this bed for the last three days.
    From under my comforter, I had watched him as he moved around the tiny studio apartment we were trapped in. My eyes followed him as he made bowl after bowl of vegetable soup, forcing me to eat and drink when I wouldn’t even bother talking to him. I watched him as he sat at the table working on some project or another. He had made a nest of blankets in the small space of floor near the bed, content to give me space and privacy but also too scared to go far. I had listened as he spoke on the phone with Ovailia, getting updates of who had arrived in Prague, every hour on the hour. Part of me wanted to be there, with Wyn and all the others like me, but the other part reminded me how much danger I was in and how important it was I stay hidden.
    Ilyan had even called Wyn and prompted me to talk to her about what I was feeling, but nothing Wyn said had helped either. I ignored it all.
    I wasn’t sure what I wanted, or what I needed. The desire to seek Edmund out right then was strong, but I still couldn’t dig that desire out from behind the oppressive wall of anger and pain I had built.
    The pressure of Ilyan’s hand increased as he moved it around to rub my back. I shied away from the contact even more, it made me uncomfortable. He wasn’t supposed to be the one to comfort me. But the one who should was gone forever.
    I didn’t want Ilyan to touch me.
    “Joclyn.”
    I pulled down the blanket enough to look out at him. His straggly blonde hair was longer than usual, hanging down to his shoulder blades, and his face was full of worry.
    “Ahoj,” he whispered as I emerged from underneath the blankets. “How are you feeling?”
    I closed my eyes, unsure of how to answer him. I was angry, desperate, lost, broken, in pain, and sad. It shouldn’t be possible for one person to feel so many emotions at the same time.
    “I hurt,” I said, my voice cracking with uncertainty.
    “Where?” he asked, alarmed.
    “In my heart.” It was the best response I could come up with. While my heart did hurt, it was more than that. Everything inside me was shattered. Rather than a broken heart, this felt more like broken everything. My heart was constricted, but around it my whole body felt tight and like it was bound together with hot wire.
    And underneath the lethargy... the desire for revenge burned steadily.
    “I know how you feel.” I reeled and swelled with anger. I knew he meant well, that he was trying to connect with me, but it felt like he was invalidating my feelings.
    “How could you possibly know how I feel?” I snapped. Ilyan didn’t back away from my harsh words. He continued rubbing his hand against my spine, the pressure somewhat dulled through the blankets.
    “Edmund has taken something away from me too, Silnỳ. Ryland was my brother as much as he was your other half, your mate. I can’t help but feel that I failed you as much as I failed him.”
    I wanted to yell at him for not teaching me to use my magic better, for not training me the right way. I wanted to blame him for taking me into a battle unprepared, but that wasn’t right. It wasn’t all his fault, and he didn’t deserve all the blame. It was my fault too. It was my fault we had lost Ryland.
    “I failed him too, Ilyan. I failed you. I failed everyone.” I pushed the blanket away from myself as the frustration of what I was saying hit me. “All you asked me to do was get him out, and I couldn’t even do that.”
    I cringed at how bitter my voice sounded, how angry each syllable tasted against my tongue.
    I shifted my weight as I moved to sit, the pressure in my unwilling joints building as I moved. Ilyan reached out to help me as he came to sit next to me. My back seized and I swayed as I sat, my body torn between crying, yelling, and finding some way to disappear.
    “You didn’t fail, Silnỳ,” Ilyan’s hand moved from mine to rest against the skin of my cheek. His touch was hot with the warmth of his powerful magic that pulsed underneath his