Crown of Cinders by Rebecca Ethington

Author:Rebecca Ethington [Ethington, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: BluA
Publisher: Imdalind Press
Published: 2016-11-28T00:00:00+00:00

WYN

17

“I feel like I’m hugging a dead chicken,” I said, happy to be in his arms despite missing the usual bulk of his muscles.

“Sorry about that, Wyn. I was too busy not dying to find time to hit a gym.” He chuckled, the laugh rippling over me.

The sound was a familiar blanket that wrapped around me, rattling against the wreckage that was still scattered over Thom’s room. It attempted to scare away the memory of what had happened hours before, but there was too much.

Ilyan had tried to cover it up, cleaning it the best he could, but the destruction was still scattered over the floor, stained on the floor, smeared on the walls.

For the briefest of moments, however, I forgot all of that. Thom forgot all of that. And the room was happy, familiar. Then the laugh ended, and death enveloped the darkness again, leaving us lying on his bed, wrapped together in our bubble, savoring the last shard of joy that existed in the cathedral.

By some Míracle, Thom was alive. Dramin’s magic had freed him from whatever Ovailia had done to him. It was the last act Dramin would ever do—saving his best friend’s life.

At least, that was the best guess Ilyan had been able to come up with. Nothing else made sense, which was probably why I was having trouble accepting that all of this was real and not some drug-induced hallucination.

I lived during the 70s, you know.

I mean, not in that way, but I get it.

Cuddled together on his bed, we lay in the dark. Our fingers danced above our heads, twisting and tangling over each other as though we weren’t certain if we should hold hands or not. I didn’t know if I wanted to or if that small movement would kill the dream.

I guess it didn’t do to live in fear.

“You can hold my hand, you know,” I teased, poking him in the side with my free hand. “It’s not going to eat you.”

“It might. You don’t know,” Thom retorted, twisting his fingers through mine again before letting them go. My heart stuttered at the brief pressure. “It looks lethal.”

“Thom,” I moaned, fully aware that it was something I had picked up from Jos. Thom knew it, too, and he laughed, both of us shaking from his chuckle as it rippled within him.

“Besides, I’m too mesmerized by your new adornment.”

“It’s a hole, Thom,” I sighed, moving my hand up so what little light we had in the room shone through it and over us. “Not an adornment.”

“But it could be.”

It was my turn to laugh, the sound strained with emotion and slightly out of place. “You sound like Joclyn. She wants me to put a spy glass in the—”

“And you haven’t yet?” Thom asked, attempting to shift his weight enough to see me and failing, falling down to the bed with a grunt and a sigh. “What is wrong with you?”

“Something drastic, obviously.”

“Obviously.” He chuckled, the fluid dance of our hands stopping as his fingers trailed up my arm, the touch soft on my skin, tickling against my neck and jaw bone.

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