Imdalind 01 - Kiss of Fire

Ilyan felt the same way. Ilyan grunted and stopped walking right at the edge of the forest. I could see the door to the motel through the break in the trees. He pulled me around to face him.
    “I saw the video, Silnỳ. He risked everything to talk to you, to tell you how much he loved you. And I know you love him, no matter how hard you try to keep it hidden.” He smiled sadly, his hand reaching up to cup the side of my face. I moved away a bit, but his hand stayed firm against my skin.
    “Your bond is the strongest I have ever seen, and I am becoming worried that if he dies, you may not be far behind. And I can’t let that happen. Because I need you, too.”
    “ You need me? Why?”
    “I just do.” Ilyan leaned forward and kissed my forehead softly. I felt dirty for letting him touch me that way and moved away from him quickly.
    “Wynifred is waiting for you in your room. We leave in the morning.” He left me standing in the trees, feeling grimy and guilty. I wiped my forehead angrily before storming toward my room.

    It was official; I hated the smell of hair dye. It burned my eyes and nose, the ammonia smell making me sick. I shook my head a bit to get the smell out of my nose, but it was no use; it was burning off my nostril hair, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
    “Hold still or I am going to dye your face pretty colors, too.”
    I said nothing but let her move my head to where she wanted it. When Ilyan had told me Wyn was going to help me get ready, this was not what I had in mind.
    I had arrived in my room to a very excited Wyn who was armed with a pair of scissors and a bottle of hair dye. Even though they could alter my appearance magically, it would be easily seen through by Edmund and his men, which meant they had to alter my appearance physically. I had tried to convince Wyn to do something simple, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She said that I needed to stand out enough that no one would guess it was me. It didn’t make much sense, but I didn’t want to argue.
    I had been sitting dutifully in the chair since Wyn placed me here, my eyes closed as I refused to see what she was doing. I bit my lip until it bled when she cut off all my hair. My head felt instantly lighter. I only felt a bit of it fall around my face and on my neck before she began to coat it with the thick, sticky stuff I was now being tortured with. I huffed angrily in the hopes of showing my frustration, but regretted it instantly; my throat was now coated with the burn of the fumes.
    “Oh, calm down, Jos. I am almost done.”
    “You better not have made me look terrible.”
    “No one will recognize you. That’s for sure,” she laughed.
    “What does that mean?” Now I was worried.
    “Nothing. Stop freaking out. You can open your eyes now. You have to wait twenty minutes for it to develop and you’re going to look like a loon sitting still with your eyes closed for that long.”
    I opened them, letting my eyes get used to the sharp chemical burn. Wyn stood in the middle of my bathroom with a huge grin on her face as she began to remove her gloves that were covered with cherry-red hair dye. She had told me she was dying my hair red, but for some reason I had pictured an auburn color like hers.
    “Red? Wyn! That’s red!” Wyn grinned at me evilly, flexing her one hand of still gloved fingers at me.
    “And black,” she provided happily. “It’s kind of all blended and fun! You’re going to love it!”
    “Wyn! My hair was already black! Why did you dye it more black?”
    “Really, Jos. Calm down. You’re going to look so good,” she squealed and went back to cleaning up, dancing to the Styx music she had playing on the stereo.
    “I don’t feel like I am going to look so good.”
    Wyn just sighed at me and cranked up the radio in an effort to tune out my complaints.
    “Wyn!” I attempted to yell above the music.
    She turned down the radio and looked at me skeptically. “You’re not going to keep complaining are you?”
    “No,” I said. “I was just wondering what you could tell me about Edmund’s other children.”
    She stopped dead in her attempts at cleaning up, her arms falling to her sides. “I am not sure I am supposed to tell you about that.”
    “It’s okay, Wyn. Ilyan told me.”
    “What did he tell you?” Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
    “What Edmund makes his children do. He let it slip that Ovailia was one of them.”
    She waited before nodding and leaned against the sink to