Crown of Cinders (Imdalind Series Book 7) by Rebecca Ethington Page B

fire … and that girl … so much blood.”
    “She probably wipes the blood on her face and turns into a dragon. Eats goats raw,” Wyn interjected from beside me, adding her own flavor to the growing horde. Her loud scoff was not missed by any of them.
    An old woman’s eyes grew wide before she darted back into her tent, hisses seeping through the canvas after her.
    “They are going to believe that, you know,” I snapped under my breath.
    Wyn smiled more widely, proud of herself. “That’s the point—to make them so ridiculous they won’t know what to believe.”
    I wasn’t convinced that was actually helping, but whatever. Wyn was my greatest ally, and I was glad to have her.
    “You and I know the truth, and that’s all that matters.”
    “That is blood on her hands! I wonder if she killed someone else.”
    I wiped them against my pants, my heart dropping to my knees as the whispers increased, alerting me to what I had done.
    Wyn, however, laughed and said loudly, “Don’t let them see the goat blood, Jos. I don’t want to share my dinner with anyone.”
    That time, I laughed, the sound an opposition to the fear that leeched around us, wiping it all away and leaving everyone looking confused.
    “Their fears are unfounded,” Wyn said with a slight laugh from where she stood beside me like a bodyguard, her oppressive frame enough to scare off anyone who might try something. “Someday, they will see the truth.”
    If I were going to have a bodyguard, I would choose Wyn, even with her crazy reputation. She would sooner kill someone than let them tear me down. I wasn’t always positive that was a good thing.
    “And what truth is that?” Darting between a green and gray tent, I came face to face with a bright-eyed child who promptly screamed and ducked inside. “That I eat children for breakfast? Because that one seems to have gotten out.”
    “No,” Wyn groaned as she pulled me away from the tent and toward the tall blond man who was looking at me as warily and worriedly as he always did as of late. If it weren’t for the intense love in his eyes, I would say he was half-dead already. “That Sain is a bloodsucking leech who was crossed with a dinosaur. Leechasaurus rex.” She waved her arms around like a gimpy Tyrannosaur, her tongue darting out in some weird hissing-slurping concoction.
    “Do we need to get Wyn admitted somewhere?” Ilyan asked in deeply accented English as he walked toward us before wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me close. “She seems to have pulled the last strand of sanity away.”
    “If I’ve lost sanity, it’s thanks to you two,” Wyn teased, the twisted dinosaur impersonation fading away. “Wars and imprisonment and death and all that crap. I think, after all this is said and done, I deserve a vacation.”
    “Only if I can go with you,” I provided, my mind focused on the imagery Ilyan was obsessed with: the white sandy beaches of our Tȍuha.
    I relaxed, the still whispering crowds surrounding us not seeming to matter so much anymore. My magic flared at the thought of the vision, binding strongly with Ilyan’s as it tried to pull us into the sub-consciousness together. It was a pleasant feeling, but one I couldn’t really act on right now, especially right here in the middle of a crowd.
    “It’s the south of France,” Ilyan corrected my mistake aloud, making it clear he was as tuned into me as I was to him. “I like this idea, Wynifred. After this war is done, we can all go to the south of France.”
    “Deal.” Wyn stuck her hand out like some kind of property broker. Ilyan took it without hesitation, the stress on his brow fading away. “And thanks for the mind reading interpretation. I hate feeling lost in you guys’ half-muted telephone call.”
    “Anything to help,” Ilyan said in quick Czech, his smile fading away as yet another disagreement broke out a few tents away from where we stood.
    Angry voices rose above the dark, shattering the