Page 119 of Of Blood & Stone

“No more wasting time,” she whispered, gently settling his head on the ground. “I’ll be back with Kharis, alright? Just hang on a little longer.”

“Sylzenya—”

“Promise me you’ll hang on,” she interrupted.

Her bloodshot eyes watered. Elnok knew the promise was futile, but she wasn’t looking for the truth.

She wanted hope.

“I promise,” he wheezed.

Wiping a tear from her cheek, she left to battle Kharis and his Dynameis, leaving Elnok to his own fight of filling his lungs one breath at a time.

Chapter 28

Warring Blood

Desperation.

Sylzenya thought she’d experienced it before, like the time she begged her father to take her away from the temple, or the time when her and Nyla evaded priestesses as they sneaked back to their rooms after her sexual escapade with Westley, or even the time when the High One—Distrathrus—had ordered her to create ten willows in one day and she had been close to failure.

But desperation wasn’t a single flower struggling to bloom. No, desperation was a hurricane. Rain, wind, and chaos billowing everywhere, threatening to uproot ancient trees and send them toppling onto unsuspecting homes. Desperation was crawling through a deserted plain, mouth parched, only to discover the oasis was a mirage.

Sylzenya had never been desperate until now.

She’d left Elnok dying.

From poison.

In a tree.

Godsdamnit.

And now, she needed to somehow cut open Kharis’ skin—the most well-trained warrior inallof Estea—and dump orodyteserum into his blood. If she was going to save Elnok and, hopefully, the entire continent, then Kharis needed to be woken from his poisoned stupor.

The thought sent her exhausted head spinning.

Flames from the campfire cast dancing shadows on the surrounding trees. Quickly, she hid behind one, its drooping limbs smelling of rot and sulfur. She crinkled her nose, forcing a cough to stay inside her throat.

Ignoring the sharp scuttles of insects, she maneuvered behind a bush, orodyte serum in one hand, sword in the other. She counted three Dynameis, all sitting on a log, the man in the center sporting Kharis’ golden hair and tight topknot.Strange.She’d assumed Kharis would return with an entire battalion.

She snarled her lip. It was a message for her—Distrathrus saw her as his own. Malleable. Under his control.

Closing her eyes, she placed a palm to the earth, her other hand upturned towards the trees. She breathed in her power, feeling the way it connected to the roots beneath her feet and the rotting leaves of the cursed forest; her body became one with it all.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Distrathrus’ barrier was gone. Aretta’s power flowed freely.

Hope lit her chest. Whatever had happened when she’d fought the arachnis had broken Distrathrus’ hold.

Elnok had been right.

She was stronger.

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