Page 68 of Of Blood & Stone

“Better take it now before I change my mind.” His knuckles brushed along hers, sending a warmth into his hand and up his arm.

She laughed, a genuine, hearty sound that made his chest ache. Slowly releasing his grip on the plate and cup, he breathed in her excitement?—

No.

He quickly took a step back, face burning. This was a mission, and he needed to focus. No need to form any sort of attachment with a woman he would never see again.

“It’s barely a fair trade,” he continued, “but it’s the least I can do.”

Her brows creased and her nostrils flared as a sad smile sat on her lips. “Thank you.”

They stood there for another breath. He memorized the lines on her face—the ones drawn on her forehead when upset, the others at the corners of her eyes when she smiled.

“Anyways.” She coughed, letting the curtain drape back across the room, “We’ll go back to the temple today and see about the compass.”

“Is there a reason you won’t give me any more details than that?” he asked as he lifted his shirt over his head, tossing it on the bed before grabbing a fresh black tunic.

“Perhaps.” She poked through the curtain. “Don’t you trust me?—?”

Her eyes dropped to his naked torso. It shouldn’t fucking matter, and yet, he couldn’t help but flex his stomach muscles—if only a little—enjoying the way his body seemed to please her.

He placed a hand on his hip and quirked a brow. “Do you ever knock?”

“Hard to do with curtains.”

Elnok took the curtain and whipped it across her face. She laughed. They finished preparing for the day and left the inn with full stomachs, a sensation Elnok still found strange.

Sylzenya thankfully interrupted his thoughts, “If anyone asks, we’ll say we only made it through half the temple yesterday and you wanted to know more about Aretta’s power. No one will question an outsider’s desire for such knowledge.”

“I’m not surprised,” he muttered.

She stopped, head tilting back as she gazed at the temple’s high sandstone walls. “I think I’m only just starting to realize how prideful of a people we are.” She dropped her gaze to the dirt, wringing her robe with her hands. “Everything seems to keep changing, and I’m not sure what to do with it.”

His throat closed and his hands shook.

Ten years ago, he’d said such similar words.

He’d been an apprentice to a blacksmith, the only occupation he could find after he escaped Vutror’s dungeons. It was grueling work for a sixteen-year-old, his back always sore, fingers scraped and bleeding every hour. If a customer ever proved dissatisfied, his master would hit him in the face. One hit for every complaint. Elnok had accepted it, telling himself it was better than the torture his brother had dealt him. And, after the shop had closed, he could at least sit on the cliffside and watch the ocean waves, smelling the brine of the sea.

Even then, nothing could stop the nightmares. His mother’s and father’s bleeding necks when he’d found them in their bed, Tosh’s torture as he swore Elnok was trying to steal the throne, and his master’s beady eyes every time he hit him.

Elnok had enough.

One day, he missed his shift and sat atop the cliffside. He sat for what felt like hours, knowing his master would come looking for him soon. The jagged rocks below had stuck up like spears. It was a long fall to a quick death, and then the pain would finally stop.

As he was about to step off, a voice called out to him.

“Fantastic day for a swim, innit?”

Elnok stopped, turning around to find a boy not much older than him. Moppy brown hair, wild hazel eyes, and a smile bigger than any he’d ever seen.

“But from this height, it may not be as enjoyable,” the boy continued, “Why don’t you join me down at shore? Maybe we can catch some fish while we’re at it?”

Elnok stared, not knowing what to say. But the boy didn’t seem to mind, extending his hand, a fishing pole made of wood and string in his hand.

“Come on,” the boy persisted, “I could use a hand.”

On their way to the shore, he’d introduced himself as Orym. They failed to catch any fish.

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