Page 17 of Of Blood & Stone

The sharp stench of it swept into Elnok’s nose. He choked on his saliva, refusing to allow the memories to push into his mind.

He fucking hated that wine.

But then Tosh turned, and Elnok’s face fell. His brother’s skin appeared waxen, like a skeleton donning a piece of thin flesh. His eyes were large and stained red, his green irises bright and unsettling. Elnok now realized his clothing wasn’t too large, but Tosh was too small. A walking thing of death. This looked different than Orym’s sickness. Worse, somehow.

He couldn’t help but take a step back.

“All this time,” Tosh whispered, “I thought you were dead.”

Elnok’s mouth curled downward, his fists clenching. He had no reason to feel sorry for his brother’s current condition, whatever it may be. Tosh deserved nothing from him, especially his pity.

“Apologies for the disappointment,” Elnok replied.

His brother’s lip quivered, opening as if to say something only to take a long gulp of wine. He set the glass down with a clink.

“I come with an answer to your letter,” Tosh said, “The medicine you requested is only a rumor. Estea has not graced us with such providence.”

Elnok’s chest hollowed.

“However, we have physicians back in the palace who have found ways to delay the sickness. If you wish to bring your friend aboard, we’ll take him with us?—”

“I’d never put Orym through your torment,” Elnok interrupted.

He turned to leave.

“Elnok, wait.” Tosh’s voice cracked.

A rush of wind caught Elnok’s hair as a large man appeared from a shadowed corner. He moved in front of him, blocking his way out. The man removed the hood of his long brown cloak, revealing golden-blonde hair that fell to his chest. He didn’t look much like a Vutrorian guard, far too tall and muscular for the training they went through. But perhaps Tosh had been in need of more strength.

“The king is not finished,” the golden-haired guard said, voice like thunder rumbling against the sky.

Elnok danced his fingers along his sword’s hilt.

“I would hate for my long-awaited reappearance to result in bloodshed.”

The man smiled. “I agree.”

He didn’t move.

“Perhaps I need to be more forthright with you,” Elnok said as he unsheathed his sword.

The guard’s smile widened as he removed his cloak and drew his long sword, the weapon twice as long as Elnok’s shortsword. He didn’t think much of it, having been trained in such combat, until he noticed the glowing yellow stone on the man’s chest.

Sparks of gold shot up along the man’s veins—his legs, arms, and neck—like lightning, crackling across his golden skin, his eyes burning brighter than the sun. Green and brown leather armor with intricate swirl patterns wrapped around his body; not the silver armor or black leathers of a Vutrorian soldier.

Elnok’s blood turned cold.

“No outlander has ever fought me before,” the magical Estean warrior—the Dynami—said, his magic causing the room to flicker with light.

Elnok should’ve known better, should’ve foreseen his brother’s bloodlust after finding out he had lived. He’d somehowhired this Dynami to kill him; it would always be about Tosh maintaining the Crown, no matter how many times Elnok voiced never wanting it.

“Kharis,” Tosh’s weak voice said, “This isn’t what we agreed upon?—”

Blood pumping hard and fast, Elnok used his brother’s distraction to slash at the Dynami’s stomach. The Dynami parried without so much as a look, catching Elnok’s swift movement with ease. Power heated against Elnok’s skin as the magic sparked off the Dynami and onto his arm. He pushed away from the warrior’s sword, readying his stance as Kharis laughed with gusto.

“Clever,” Kharis said, “One move and I can already tell you fare better than most outlanders.” His glowing eyes narrowed, “But I’m curious to know what you think of this?”

Elnok’s footing faltered, his focus caught adrift as the Dynami rushed for him, but it was as if he’d melted into the air, only a streak of light until Kharis appeared in front of him, his sword leveled beneath Elnok’s throat, the magic searing into his skin, the blade drawing blood.

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