Page 77 of Of Blood & Stone

He didn’t loosen his grasp. “If your people’s lore is correct, then this tree is the last remaining source of your goddess’ power, and yet, someone in Estea didn’t want this compass to be found. Until we know more, we can’t tell anyone, or the dungeons may be the least of our problems.”

They stood in silence. Finally, her breaths evened out, her body relaxing in his arms. He slowly removed his hand from her mouth, loosening his grasp around her waist.

She turned, her eyes glassy. “I know who you think’s behind this, but I promise you, he isn’t. The High One would never…”

Suddenly, her arms shook, her pupils far too big.

“Sylzenya,” Elnok gently whispered, “I need you to take a deep breath.”

“And I need you to release me.”

He held his hands up. “Fine. Just try to calm dow?—”

Her eyes rolled back, her knees giving out as she stumbled on a root.

Before she fell, he caught her in an embrace. Her muscles stiffened, followed by a shudder against his chest. With a strength he didn’t know she possessed, she wrapped her arms around him, fingers digging into his wet tunic while a silent sob wracked her body.

He clutched her tighter, tangling his fingers in her wet hair.

Memories of his escape from Vutror’s dungeons flooded him: the way he’d fallen to his knees and rid himself of his royal cloak, praying beyond all hope no one would recognize him as he got up and ran through the dead woods; trying to find shelter before his brother’s guards killed him; arriving in a village late in the night; a woman taking him in and offering him a fresh bath and a warm bed for the night. He’d cried like this, his pillow damp and his body convulsing.

And so he held Sylzenya as if he embraced a part of himself.

“It’s alright,” he whispered into her ear, soft and gentle, “You’re alright. We survived.”

But Sylzenya didn’t respond, shaking harder instead, tears spilling down his neck as she mumbled words he couldn’t understand.

“Everything’s wrong,” she finally whispered. “The High One keeping my cure from me, Nyla refusing to help us, amonsterin the goddess’ healing pool…”

He stroked her hair. “We need to be careful.”

Shuddering, she took a deep breath against his neck, her warm lips grazing his skin. He gripped her tighter. As long as she was next to him, he would do everything within his powerto keep her safe. He’d tackle a hundred ichthys’ if that’s what it took.

“If we’re going to find the willow, then we need a Dynami,” she finally said.

“What if I told you we already have one?”

When Elnok first laid eyes on Sylzenya two nights ago, she’d been on the temple’s balcony, preaching to her people, weakness rippling across her masked confidence.

But now, he realized, it hadn’t been weakness at all. As she stood next to him outside the Dynami barracks, explaining to the guards why she needed to escort Elnok into the sanctum, he could see how all her “tells” were simply an act.

In the coastal villages, Elnok had no choice but to present himself as callous and impenetrable, otherwise, thieves and pirates would raid his and his crew’s supplies. But in Estea, a mask of intimidation garnered suspicion.

Esteans desires were at odds when it came to their chosen one—the Kreena destined to save them from the famine. They wanted her to be both powerful and meek—an impossible combination. And yet, she did it seamlessly, pouring power into the ground while bringing laughter to their faces.

Only moments ago she’d been shivering in shock from the monster in the healing pool; the monster she’d killed with his dagger and her blood.

It was a strange comfort, knowing that despite the carefree smile she offered the guard, she was scared.

Elnok’s mouth dried as she glanced at him, a small rush of heat crawling up his neck. He issued his own carefree grin, so opposed to the sweat covering his back. A secret shared betweenthem, as if they were the only ones capable of smelling the sharp salt in the air before an approaching storm.

And yet, despite the impending danger, Elnok ceased spinning his ring.

They would face it together.

Warmth enveloped his chest. He let his eyes wander along Sylzenya’s face—her sharp features softened by her full lips, her slender neck decorated with the glimmering gold chain, the piece of clear orodyte settled between the gracious curves of her breasts. The front of his pants suddenly tightened.

He clamped his jaw, turning his gaze to the sandstone pillars, taking measured breaths. He’d known she was beautiful the first night he saw her, but everything she’d represented at the time had been everything he hated: ignorant power; thoughtless obedience. But now…

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