Page 118 of Of Blood & Stone

She whispered into his mouth, “This is all my fault.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yes I do.”

“Distrathrus tricked you.” He gripped her hip tight. “He betrayed everyone here and on this continent, and if you had known, he might’ve gotten rid of you. He would’ve killed you.”

“I would’ve deserved it,” she whispered.

“No,” Elnok growled, wishing he could see those dark eyes of hers. “You didn’t deserve anything that bastard did to you. Not the scar on your back, not the pain in your body, not anything else you were forced to do in order to serve this kingdom. You deserve all the joy and happiness this world can offer you.”

An aching silence spread between them, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

“You’re so much more than your cuts and bruises and pain,” Elnok said as he caressed her face, “You’re brave and courageous and compassionate. You of all people deserve a life where you can laugh to your heart’s content and create life without sacrifice—a life where you can be free. I’d do anything to give that to you.”

He slowly wiped the tears running down her face, his heart slowing down—dangerously so. He wanted to tell her he felt the same as her; he wanted to know what a life with her could be like outside of this hellish war they’d been caught in. But he felt the desperation in her touch and he wouldn’t dare cause her to do anything rash. It’d only make this parting worse than it needed to be.

A slice of pain ran up his neck, his grip tightening on her as a quiet groan escaped his lips. Air refused to enter his lungs, his throat feeling as if it was closing in on itself.

“I wish we had more time,” he whispered, his hands sliding to the ground.

All he could perceive was Sylzenya’s frantic breaths, her fingernails digging into his skin.

“Then I’ll get us more,” she whispered.

Dread gripped his throat.

“Syl,” Elnok weakly whispered, “there’s nothing that can be done.”

“You’re not going to die,” she seethed, rummaging through her leather pouch, “We need their help.”

“Theirhelp?” Elnok sputtered, “If you expose us, Distrathrus will take you. Torture you. Force you to become his weapon?—”

“If he wants me, he’s going to have to save you first.”

“No,” Elnok begged, “Sylzenya, you’re not thinking clearly right now. Please,don’t do this.”

“I have a plan,” she argued, “Trust me.”

But he didn’t trust her, not right now.

Glowing compass in her hand, he could finally see her clearly. Her eyes were wild and bloodshot, her face ragged and tired. Sleep had evaded them for an entire day. She’d lost an ample amount of blood, and she’d barely eaten anything besides a few nuts and berries. His body was failing him due to poison, but her mind was collapsing under over-exhaustion.

“Let’s face it, I won’t make it to the tree at this point either. We need help.” She fished out a vial of orodyte serum from her leather pouch. “You said Kharis told you about the tree. He was on your side before coming back to Estea and drinking Distrathrus’ wine, right?”

Sweat built along his neck. “The bastard had fallen in love with my brother, so yes, but he’s too far gone now.”

“Not if I get this in his blood.” She held the vial between her fingers, a faint laugh leaving her mouth. “Suppose I really am my father’s daughter after all. It’ll at least give him a chance to fight against Distrathrus’ blood. And if it works, he’ll help us get to the tree.”

“For gods’ sake.” Elnok coughed. “And how are you going to do this? He’s clearly brought reinforcements. You can’t risk getting caught.”

“And you can’t die.”

Her words silenced him. He’d had this conversation before, but it wasn’t with Sylzenya—it’d been with Orym. And he’d been the one to say Sylzenya’s exact words.

“Damn your high morals,” he whispered, Orym’s voice echoing along his bones, the poison sinking deeper.

All this effort to save his friend, only to die from his own sickness in the end.

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