Imdalind 01 - Kiss of Fire

voice was low, as if even he didn’t believe his words. His grip on my elbow tightened a bit as we began to move, obviously worried I would fall again.
    He looked at me, his forehead crinkled, before grabbing one of the half-filled glasses of water that he had been forcing me to drink from for days.
    After I drank, Ilyan walked me toward the small bathroom. I looked behind me reluctantly; the small double bed was pushed up against the side wall and the bathroom wall. A sliding glass door was at the foot of the bed and the tiny kitchen was on the other wall. The only floor space to speak of was between the bed and kitchen, but most of that was taken up by Ilyan’s makeshift bed.
    It was a tissue box that someone had mistaken for a studio apartment. The idea of spending any amount of time in this claustrophobic space was nauseating; sharing it with another person was terrifying.
    “I want you to take a shower. There are clothes in the bathroom for you.”
    Sitting on the counter in the bathroom was a small pile of clothes, including a black hoodie I had never seen before.
    “Where is Ryland’s hoodie?” I asked, unsurprised by my alarm.
    “It’s gone, Joclyn. When we failed, many of our number fled to the Motel. They were followed. Anything that was left there was destroyed out of necessity.”
    My heart sunk and my head swam again, Ilyan’s hold on my elbow increased as my body swayed to one side.
    “Maybe now is not the time for a shower,” he said.
    I looked down. My shirt was scraps of fabric and my stomach was covered by dried blood and ash. My mind flashed back to memories of that night. To Ryland digging a tiny blade into my chest. I swallowed hard, willing the tears to stay away.
    “Now is fine,” I said.
    “Good, but first...”
    Ilyan placed his hand against my face, his eyes boring into mine as he pushed his magic into me. I wondered what he was doing, but he only smiled at me, his blue eyes twinkling. My head began to prickle as his magic congregated there, causing my hair to grow back to how it was before.
    Ilyan removed his hand and his magic left me. I turned to look at myself in the mirror. Dark black make-up was smeared all over my face, my bright silver eyes twinkling among the smudges, but my hair was black, straight, and long again – maybe even a bit longer than it had been originally.
    “Thank you.”
    “Of course,” he said as he turned on the steaming water before moving toward the door. “Enjoy your shower. I’ll have a surprise waiting for you when you get out.”
    The door clicked shut behind him. I didn’t look at it for long before turning toward the sink that I leaned against. My reflection was staring at me through the mirror, my mouth opening in shock at the haggard face that looked back. All my battle wounds were still visible and much of my body was covered with dried blood. I ripped off what was left of my shirt and followed the trail of dried blood up to a small scar that now lay over my heart.
    A small line of raised skin stood out where Ryland had stabbed me in his attempt to kill me. The scar was rough from the quick healing he had done in the brief time that he had regained control of his body. That was the last time he was himself. Before his mind had been erased forever.
    I ripped my eyes away from the scar and they landed on the ruby necklace that hung around my neck. Another gift from him. I reached up and grabbed it, removing the chain from around my neck, and scraping off the blood that had dried to the beautiful ruby to reveal the bright stone underneath.
    I hadn’t touched the stone since I had used it to see an adorable five year old boy who had promised to take my pain away and who said he loved my eyes. It was the final proof that Ryland as I knew him was gone.
    I threw the necklace into the sink, the stone clinking loudly against the porcelain. I didn’t want to enter the Tȍuha ever again. Seeing it there in the sink made me want to snatch it back up and keep it safe. But I hadn’t felt the beat of Ryland’s heart emanate from it for days. The connection had died.
    The bathroom had filled with the steam from the shower and I was surrounded by the sweet smelling fog. It smelled vaguely of plant life – making me wonder what Ilyan had placed in here to react to the steam that way. Something to help settle my nerves, I was sure. The hot mist seemed to fill my head and I swayed again, my hands clenching the sink in an effort to steady myself.
    I