Imdalind 01 - Kiss of Fire

soft petals; they were almost identical to the ones from my memory.
    “Ryland. Our memories together,” I whispered, fighting the tears that still fought their way out from my extended visit with such beautiful memories.
    “Really?”
    I didn’t dare look at her; I only nodded.
    “You think of Ryland, and your magic can move? What do you think of? Kissing him, his rippling muscles... What?”
    My heart thudded as I looked up to her: I didn’t know what to say. “No, nothing like that. Just him. Memories of him.”
    Wyn’s shoulders slunk sadly. “Like kissing him?”
    “No, Wyn,” I whispered. “I have never kissed him.”
    She stared at me in shock; she almost looked scared. “Never?”
    “No, never. I mean we got close,” I added just in case she got the wrong idea, “but we never actually made the connection.”
    Wyn continued to stare at me with that strange face. I ran my finger through the flowers again in an attempt not to look at her.
    “Is that bad?” I asked when the silence had become too much.
    “No, no, no.” Wyn reassured me. “It’s just that... normally to have a connection as strong as yours, you would have at least kissed.”
    I began to feel even more uncomfortable. I looked down into the carpet of flowers as the blush crept up my cheeks.
    “Your souls must be connected,” she sighed.
    I couldn’t help but hear that teenage longing in her voice.
    “It’s like you are meant to be.”
    I rolled my eyes at her, but secretly, I hoped she was right. At least then, I would be able to save him.

Twenty-Six

    Ilyan had knocked loudly on my door at daybreak to command me to meet him in the courtyard in ten minutes. Even without being awakened by the bright sunlight in his room, I still wasn’t allowed to sleep in. I didn’t give him the benefit of an answer. Instead I rolled out of bed, thankful for the disappearance of the ancient décor. The brown and orange paper had been replaced by white walls with a deep green stripe circling the ceiling. The lumpy bed with the ancient bedspread was also gone, a small squishy pure-white day bed in its place. The dark table and orange lamp were still there, but they didn’t look as old as they had before. Instead they looked almost chic. It wasn’t really my style, but I liked it anyway.
    I had opted to shower first, deciding that since I hadn’t actually taken a real bath in a while and knowing that I could be in and out in five minutes, it wouldn’t be a problem. But when I stepped into the hot water, I knew I was in trouble. The jets of steaming water hit my skin, and every muscle in my body relaxed into a comfortable jelly. I let the water flow over me in long rivers as it wiped away the grit and grime of everything that had happened to me in the last two weeks. Granted, the water was clear and I actually had no real dirt or grime, but it still felt wonderfully cleansing and invigorating.
    I stood there for longer than necessary, feeling the now-constant buzzing. After my success with the circle of pansies, I hadn’t been able to accomplish anything else without removing the necklace, despite trying late into the night. Standing here without the necklace, I felt my magic surge again. I didn’t dare attempt anything for fear that it would hinder any success later. I turned off the water and stepped out, knowing Ilyan would be upset with my tardiness.
    Sure enough, without the sound of the water, I could hear Ilyan and Ovailia shouting at each other in Czech again, their voices carrying through my door. I was beginning to wonder if this was a daily occurrence. I dressed quickly as the angry yelling continued, trying to pick out clothes from among the mismatched array of what had been brought over for me. I could tell that most of these clothes had belonged to several different people. I opted for a band shirt I was sure was Wyn’s and a pair of baggy gray pants. Thankfully, a pair of flip-flops near my size had been left for me, so I slid them on as I pulled Ryland’s sweater over my head, his lingering smell still clinging to the fabric. I flung the door open, and the yelling stopped.
    “Look who it is,” Ovailia sneered in a sugary sweet voice. “Finally decide to grace us with your presence, did you?”
    I looked from Ilyan to Ovailia in confusion. Ovailia kept her eyes glued on me, her lips pursed, while Ilyan had his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed toward no one in particular.
    “Here I am.” I tried to sound perky, but