Page 89 of Of Blood & Stone

“Elnok, don’t let go!” Sylzenya shouted.

He squeezed harder, fighting to stay standing and to see what was happening, but then strong hands and built bodies slammed him to the ground.

His fingers slipped.

“Sylzenya!”

A boot slammed into his face, sharp, abrupt pain cracking his nose. Another kick to his stomach sent the air out his lungs, but he kept fighting against the endless limbs grabbing for him.

Bright pain ruptured in the back of his head, and his mind fell into darkness.

Chapter 21

In the Flesh

Leaves gently rustled in the wind, as they always did on spring days. Yet everything was dark, Sylzenya’s eyes were so heavy even her greatest effort couldn’t relieve her of this blindness. Fresh loam swept into her lungs as she took a deep breath, the air crisp and cool.

Evening, then. And she was outside.

But why would she be outside? She’d been lying in bed at the inn, the scent of earthy musk and worn leather consuming her every thought.

Consumed byhim.

Elnok.

His skin had been warm, his muscles tough as she’d dug her fingers into his shoulders and back. Pleasure had been teased out of her, slowly and deliberately, and she’d sworn her power had returned when all she saw were sparks and all she felt was light. Pale green eyes, a relaxed half-smile. He’d felt like warm summer days swimming in lakes, cold winter nights snuggled beneath blankets, and hot rose tea warming her fingers.

She wanted to see him. He was here, wasn’t he? Had they gone out for a walk in the middle of the night?—?

The compass.

Clenching her jaw, she cursed her heavy eyelids. Nyla and Kharis had come to talk about the compass. They’d said something strange… something that made her fear for Elnok’s safety…

The wine. Nyla had sounded exasperated that Elnok hadn’t drunk any since he’d arrived, even mentioning how Elnok had thrown up her plum. The wine and fruits were laced with something; they had to be. It would explain why he kept puking. But what about the monster? He’d vomited then too. How did that have anything to do with it?

“She’s waking up, Your Grace,” a familiar voice—Nyla’s—said.

“Good,” the High One replied.

Fear gripped her chest.

She remembered how she got here. Dynameis had assaulted them, pushed them to the ground, Elnok’s fingers slipping through hers as he shouted her name.

Sylzenya finally forced her eyes open.

“Everything’s going to be alright,” Nyla whispered into her ear.

Sylzenya jolted, now realizing her arm was wrapped around her friend’s shoulder, like a limp vine on a wooden terrace. She tried pushing away from her, but she couldn’t; she couldn’t feel anything but her face and her chest, moving up and down with her slowed breaths.

“What—” Sylzenya fought the haze in her mind. Pale light illuminated blurred trees. “Nyla, where’s Elnok?”

“Do not fret about the prince, Sylzenya. He’s being taken care of, trust me,” the High One replied from somewhere in front of her, his figure a tall white blur.

Anger rumbled through her. Trust—a difficult flower to tend to—yet so easy to tear out of the ground. The moment the High One held the cure above her like a dangling carrot, the roots hadbegun to pull. And now, the flower didn’t have much left to hold onto.

“And how exactly is he being taken care of?” she demanded.

Her words surprised her, but she didn’t take it back. She wouldn’t, not until she knew Elnok was safe.

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