Page 69 of Of Blood & Stone

They traveled to a different town after, living off of other’s scraps, learning the art of stealing to keep themselves full and somewhat satisfied. A few months later, Elnok told Orym he’d escaped the dungeons, but he never told him he was Vutror’s lost prince, telling him he’d been a typical convict instead.

“You were framed for your parents’murder?” Orym asked.

“Yes. After I escaped, everything changed so fast. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now.”

Orym had wrapped his arm around his shoulder. “To be honest, Elnok, I wouldn’t know either. But I do know this, I’m grateful to have met you. And I’m even more grateful to call you a friend.”

Elnok’s vision blurred as he spun his gold ring around his finger.

“I’m sorry,” Sylzenya said, “ it’s a stupid thought to linger on?—”

“It isn’t,” Elnok replied, “It’s the truth, and oftentimes, waiting to accept change can hinder us from moving forward. But you aren’t one to ignore such things, are you, Sylzenya?”

Her deep blue eyes found his.

“Something tells me you aren’t either,” she whispered, her hands no longer scratching at her robe, her body heat touching his skin.

His hands stopped shaking. A strong instinct coursed through him to slide his palm up her arm, to let her know she wasn’t alone.

“We better keep moving,” he said, forming his hands into fists, Orym’s sick eyes flashing through his vision, “My friend doesn’t have much longer to live.”

Sylzenya straightened. “Right. Of course.”

They entered the temple, the priestesses and guards elated about Elnok’s desire to learn more about their goddess. They ushered them in quickly, telling short tales of how their goddesshad blessed them through their own difficulties—providing food, fresh water, and days of pure bliss. Elnok’s patience wore thinner with each story; how ignorant did one have to be to speak to someone whose people were at the mercy of famine, drought, and sickness?

Sylzenya requested privacy so they might honor Aretta in the altar room. The priestess and guard who’d followed agreed, taking their leave back down the willow-infested hallway.

He and Sylzenya were alone.

“Well played,” he whispered.

“I’ll take my payment in form of another breakfast.”

“Consider it done.”

She smiled. His face warmed.

Yellow stained-glass spanned the ceiling, the sandstone walls at least five stories tall. In the middle of the room stood the largest tree Elnok had ever seen. Which, he decided, wasn’t saying much considering he hadn’t seen many trees until stepping foot into Estea.

“And thisisn’tthe healing tree?” he asked, a thin line of hope running along his veins.

“This is the great willow; we’re able to commune with our goddess through its roots.” She pointed to the massive roots protruding from the ground like waves on the shore. “It’s rare for her to respond. Even when I did it a few days ago, I’m not sure if it was her or some specter of herself appearing as a bird.”

Elnok’s eyes widened. “A few days ago? This doesn’t happen to be the rite your friend was talking about?” He approached her from behind. “The one where you almostdied?”

“Of course not.”

Her mask faltered.

Elnok narrowed his gaze. “Whatever plan you have, we’re not doing it if it’s going to result in my guide bleeding out on me.”

Sylzenya huffed a breath. “What I did three days ago was… foolish. I admit it. But this is different. All I’m going to try and do is connect with these roots to see if the compass is in the tree. If I can’t, then things stay just as complicated as ever. But if I can, and if I’mright,” she paused, turning to him, “then we’re one step closer to finding Aretta’s Willow.”

“And why do you think it’s in this tree?”

“I mean, look at it. It’s huge, ancient— I’m starting to question why I didn’t think this would be it from the start.”

“So this is based off a hunch?”

---