Page 66 of Of Withering Dreams
“Bloody void.” I rubbed my sweaty palms down my tunic, the soft fabric itchy and stifling.
This expedition was unfolding in ways I never imagined. My mouth clamped shut for the rest of the journey. My thoughts distracted me, and I barely paid attention to Kaden or the others.
I gripped the leather pouch around my neck, stroking the soft leather. We agreed to hide the petals. I’d hide them somewhere deep in the library or perhaps in some shadowed cranny of the palace.
If none of the teams were successful during this Weeding, it was highly probable that they’d have to allow those who remained to compete. I’m sure they wouldn’t want to upset the masses. Keeping the majority distracted and content seemed important to the Elders—at least while we were in Surrelia.
Melina and the others already held too much power. It wouldn't be an issue if I believed they had truly tried everything to help our world. But I suspected that they had not, and this nagging suspicion burned within every cell of my being. Something had felt off from the very start—I knew it in my gut. My ember constantly tried to communicate with me, but the answers were always just out of reach.
Was I ready to be a part of a rebellion? I ran my thumb over the ridges of my stone ring, thoughts whirling, trying to find the answers in shadowed corners.
It didn’t surprise me that Kaden was all in. He was always more vocal about his aversion to the Elders.
Was this the right path to help Midst Fall?
There was too much information knocking around my skull. Too many fears. Too many truths bared. Too many doubts.
Just too much.
24
TOXIN AND TONIC
“Citizens! You see before you undeserving, disgraceful failures,” Melina scorned, her singsong voice bouncing through the Great Hall. Half the crowd stood wordlessly, shifting their feet, suppressing looks of sympathy. The others, packed in the front, jeering, their faces twisting into wretched masks of contempt.
The control Melina and the Elders exerted over their flock left a foul taste on my tongue. My fingers dug into my pockets, my thumb pressing so firmly into my rune stone that the etching would surely leave an imprint. It was disheartening that my peers were so fickle—so easily maneuvered like puppets on oligarchic strings.
The other Elders were situated at the base of the stage. Gavrel, other Draumrs, and Akridais stood beside them lining the surrounding walls. My gaze fixated on the back of Gavrel’s thick, ebony waves, his form still and unyielding. The dense muscles of his shoulders were tense, the dark fabric of his uniform straining across his back and biceps.
Blade-like, dark nails sliced through the air as she passed the surviving competitors, holding her palms up. She moved before the line of us on the platform, her snug dress shifting over her body like molten oil with each step. When she slinked past me, her smoky, powdered floral scent invaded my senses—like nightbloom roses and bitter almonds.
Or poison.
I had once read about a toxin that smelled similar to almonds. Sweet, woodsy, and acrid.
Deadly.
The muscles of my jaw flexed, and my tongue clamped precariously between my front teeth. I would never be able to tolerate the smell of roses or almonds again.
“Nevertheless, six teams have returned, and the tournament must go on.” The horde cheered, and Melina raised her hand to silence them. I stared at the tourmaline ring on her thumb, my left hand curling around its counterpart in my pocket.
Her dainty nose sniffed with disdain as she glanced back at me.She really doesn’t suspect.A wry smile pressed into the seam of my lips, holding in the secret. Our minor victory. Praise the Ancients for her lowly opinion of everyone. In her eyes, we were all worthless from the very start.
The Elders believed that we failed, barely escaping the Mirage Orchid’s keeper by the skin of our teeth. I pictured the delicate orchid petals sandwiched between the pages of my beloved tome. The one that tumbled from the shelves in front of me on that first day in the library.Ancient History: An Unabridged Bridge into Divine Yesterdays.
My eyes met Letti’s in the crowd—golden, hazel pools like Mama’s. Concern etched on her angelic face. She was like the orchid. Resilient even when burdens pressed from all sides, trying to squash her. I yearned to have her confidence.
My eyes clamped shut, fists tightening around my ring and my talisman as Melina droned on. I was certain she loved the sound of her own voice.
What if there had been another way to defeat the decaying of our world—to delay the Withering? What if there still was?
Too much had been lost. Too much had been taken from those I cared about. Because of the Elders and their deals. The laws they implemented.
I thought of Rhaegar’s sister.
Breena’s grandmother.
Father.
