Page 66 of A Pact of Blood

Another lies close by—a minor boon. I detach that one too and glimpse another farther on.

With more and more blood streaming through my skirt and onto the ground, I follow a weaving path across the patch, following the melons that present themselves. Never letting myself stray too far from the altar waiting for me up ahead.

When I straighten up after retrieving my fifth melon, my head swims with dizziness. I stiffen my posture against the sensation, managing not to sway.

Curse it all. I didn’t expect to be offering upthismuch of myself in the rite.

The effects of the tablet might dull the pain, but it won’t bolster my strength while I drain myself quite literally of life.

Keep going. As quickly and efficiently as possible. Even if my vision blurs for a second as I scan the clumps of leaves for another glint of yellow.

My hands feel as if they’re going numb. The sixth melon slides in my bleeding fingers. A burn sears into my calves, flaring hotter with each swipe of my tattered skirts.

As I reach for the seventh fruit, a sharper wave of dizziness rushes over me. I nearly tip right over face-first into the leaves.

My stomach lurches, and I manage to catch my balance by jamming my hand into the mass of leaves. More jabs pierce my palm.

I wrench myself upward, cradling the basket against the middle of my belly so it doesn’t tip me to one side or the other.

One step. Another step. Suppress a shudder at the liquid coursing over my raw skin.

Then a voice slides into my head, soft and faint but clear.“You can do this, Rell. You’re almost there. A medic’s waiting for you by the altar. I know you can make it that far.”

It’s Lorenzo. He’s risking using his illusionary magic not far from Marclinus’s guards to help boost my spirits.

“The next melon is just a couple of steps ahead of you. I’ll be right here with you the whole time.”

My body still feels shaky, but my spirits rise. I push onward with all the vigor I have in me.

The eighth fruit. Two more to go.

“One day when all this is done, I’ll take you back to Rione. We’ll sit on one of the palace terraces and look out over the turquoise sea in the most refreshing breeze. We’ll eat coconut jam and pastries and fish fried so fresh it melts in your mouth.”

He’s drawing a picture for me, a place where I can escape the worst of the pain. I wrap the image around me as I trudge onward to the ninth melon.

There. I’m almost at the edge of the patch.

I only need one more.

My ragged shoes squish beneath my feet, soaked through with my blood. I pause, and the whole world blurs around me.

Lorenzo’s projected voice wavers. A strain creeps into his tone as it fades, but he keeps going.“All the gods will be on your side, Rell. You can beat Marclinus at his own game. Keep coming back to me.”

Great God only knows how much effort it’s taking him to concentrate it solely on me across the distance, ensuring no one else picks up on even a trace of the illusion. How much longer will he be able to speak like that before he wears himself out completely?

He’s not letting himself falter. I have to push on too.

I swallow hard, and my sight sharpens just enough for me to notice a yellow sheen right near the edge of the patch. I shuffle toward it with all the strength I can summon.

As I set the tenth melon into the basket, an eager murmuring ripples through the watching crowd. I’d almost forgotten they were there. So much for the pressure of an audience that Etta and Pierus were worried about.

Leaving the biting leaves behind, I slog up the hill. Every footfall jars loose more pain.

But here’s the medic in her white robes waiting for me. Here’s the Prospiran cleric in his of yellow, welcoming me to the altar with open arms.

As I set the basket down next to Marclinus’s, the healer is already grasping my hands. With a pulse of her healing magic, the cuts there seal. She bends down to extend her ability to my legs.

With the flow of soothing energy, my flagging strength revives.

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