Page 78 of Of Blood & Stone

Rarely did someone surprise him as much as Sylzenya had.

“Very well,” one of the guards said to her, waking Elnok from his thoughts, “While we don’t believe Prince Elnok to be carrying the continent’s curse of famine and sickness, we understand it’s frightened the villagers. We’ll allow you to escort him. We’ll have the Dynami you requested meet you both in the barracks’ drinking room. If you’d follow us, please.”

The Dynami barracks, while still grand, were far less ostentatious than the temple. The ceilings were no taller than a typical home, and green vines draped down the sandstone walls, spilling onto the floor. Glittering streams lined either side of the hallways, the waters filled with red and yellow fish. The air smelled of newly brandished metal and lingering sweat.

The guards opened two large wooden doors, beckoning them inside. Dark wooden tables and chairs filled the large room while vines looped around stone rafters, dangling from the ceiling. Elnok counted five Dynami, three of them huddled together,discussing a serious issue over wine while two others sat at the long bar, drunk.

Great.

A large indented circle took up the middle of the room, its surface not made of marble like the rest of the flooring, but dirt.

The guard motioned for them to sit at a table.

Cold bit into Elnok’s skin through his damp clothes as he sat on the wooden chair, Sylzenya’s arms pimpling next to him. They’d dried off the best they could before leaving the temple, none of the priestesses or guards batting an eye when they’d wished them farewell. The only evidence of their visit to the healing pool was the compass, which was safely stored in one of Sylzenya’s pockets.

“What’s the circle for?” Elnok whispered.

Sylzenya shrugged. “I know little of what Dynameis do behind their walls?—”

Multiple glasses suddenly shattered, causing Elnok to flinch and reach for his dagger.

“It’s a duel, then,” one of the drunk Dynameis said as he stood up, his hair a tuft of orange in the torch’s glow. “Unless you think you’ll lose?”

The other Dynami cackled. “In your dreams.”

“Careful now; we have guests.” The bartender motioned to Elnok and Sylzenya.

The Dynameis halted, surprise lighting their faces.

“It can’t be, can it? The Prince of Vutrorandour most holy of Kreenas? I’ll be damned.” The orange-haired Dynami pointed a finger at them. “How’s about whoever wins in our duel gets the lady for a night, hm?”

Elnok’s insides boiled as he gripped his dagger’s hilt.

“Hold your tongue,” another shouted, “Such talk is meant for behind closed doors. Leave them be.”

Elnok clenched his jaw.

The drunk Dynameis gawked. “It was merely a jest?—”

“Do you not take Aretta’s task of celibacy seriously?” Sylzenya asked, standing up. Her ash-colored hair flowed to her waist in gentle waves, her countenance as sturdy as jagged rocks on shore. “Because if you do not, I’ll gladly let the High One know you wish to see a shift in such laws.”

Both of their faces blanched.

“Your Holiness, it really was a simplejest. No harm’s been done, so please, let’s move on from the outrageous subject,” the orange-haired Dynami stammered as he and the other Dynami entered the dirt circle.

“Very well,” Sylzenya replied, returning to her seat.

Elnok left his dagger at his thigh, crossing his arms, studying Sylzenya. Her face turned red as she avoided his stare. He liked this, watching her become flustered, knowing he was the reason behind it. She’d reprimanded this Dynami for wanting to break his celibacy vow—as if he hadn’t already—and yet, she’d confessed to Elnok she’d done the very same a few years ago.

Sacred and profane, holy and wicked; she danced between these elements, somehow striking a balance in their liminal space. A glorious woman, indeed.

“Prince Elnok,” Kharis exclaimed, the warrior quickly making his way to their table, his green and brown leather armor replaced with a white linen shirt and dark pants, his golden hair tied in a topknot. “I was beginning to worry you’d been thrown into the dungeons with all the rumors of your curse.”

Elnok rolled his eyes as he welcomed Kharis to sit. The bartender served them each a glass of red wine. Its potent stench curled along Elnok’s nostrils; he pushed it aside. Sylzenya did as well.

Kharis drank his swiftly.

“So, Prince, what brings you to see me?” the warrior asked, his bright smile stained with wine.

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