Page 12

Chapter 12

Wine Ritual

E lnok had been right.

This woman was his personal hell .

Spinning his gold ring, Elnok glared at her back. The last thing he needed was a detour involving this Kreena putting on a second bullshit act. But here he stood, surrounded by wide-eyed drunkards listening to this woman’s “holy” speech about a goddess who died centuries ago. A deity who supposedly “protected their people” from the continent’s famine and sickness.

How gracious of their goddess to save Esteans and no one else.

Sylzenya shouted to the crowd, “In Aretta’s final stand with her brother, Distrathrus, the god of chaos, she knew she had no choice but to sacrifice herself, for their godhood was intertwined. The only way to rid him from this earth was to rid herself of it as well. Through this display of death, we’re taught that pain and sacrifice are the only ways to sustain life.”

“ Praise be to Aretta !”

“And so, behold the robes of every Kreena and acolyte alike.” She motioned to the dried blood on her robe.

Elnok’s stomach soured. A deep cut spanned her back, fresh blood dripping from it and adding to the browned stains. It looked as if someone had taken a dagger and sliced her open with horrifying accuracy and intention.

And yet, these people cheered louder.

Sylzenya continued, “Our blood demonstrates how it is through our pain and sacrifice that Estea can survive another day. And we will continue to survive.”

As the crowd cheered louder, Elnok curled his rope around his hand, wringing it tight, a bloom of pain riding along his veins.

Survive?

These people didn’t know the word. Estea was a kingdom flowing with red wine and filled with green trees.

Abundance. Resources. Life.

A fire had been stoking in his gut, fanning into a brighter flame with each word this woman professed—with each praise these people lifted into the air. They talked as if they were on the precipice of death, yet it was clear none of them had known a day of hunger in their life.

“I’ll be joining my fellow Kreenas soon,” she continued, “My body will be freed from this orodyte serum once the cure has run its course, and I promise you I will do everything within my power to keep this famine on the other side of Lhaal Forest until it’s my time to join Aretta in her soil.”

The crowd’s noise grew deafening.

Elnok rolled his eyes.

“This week we host the Prince of Vutror, Elnok Rogdul; let us show him the sacrifice of our people so he might join us in our celebration.”

The crowd jumbled together, moving sporadically until they created a path through the square. In the center of the plaza stood a white marble statue. Squinting his eyes, Elnok’s soured stomach churned.

“Prince Elnok,” Sylzenya said as she turned to him, any hesitancy he’d seen in her now gone, “This is Aretta’s fountain, where the villagers partake of the fountain’s wine to promote prosperity. It’s my job to ensure you a rich exposure of Estea, so I invite you to participate.”

Elnok smiled. “I’m not one to celebrate.”

Her eyes darkened. “If you don’t, then you’re wishing death on everyone in this square.”

And what if that’s what I want?

He fought back the urge to say it. He needed to keep his mask secure, portray himself as the dutiful prince helping his sick brother with treaty revisions. He needed to bring the least amount of attention to himself as possible if his and Kharis’ plans to find the tree were to work, which, thanks to this woman, might be impossible.

Refusing to participate could create an uproar.

“Of course,” he said with a stiff bow, “my apologies.”

She didn’t smile, didn’t reply, didn’t do anything except turn around and approach the fountain. He considered running, but one of the guards pushed him forward. Gritting his teeth and pasting on a royal smile, he followed.

The last time he’d tasted wine was the day he’d escaped his brother. It’d been forced down his throat then, and it was being forced upon him now. He had no choice but to drink it—not if he wanted to appear harmless.

Not if he wanted to find the tree and save Orym.

Sylzenya lifted her hands towards the statue. The carving was of a woman in a flowing robe, both hands placed over her heart. The wine poured from it as if it were blood.

“May our sacrifices bring her glory,” Sylzenya shouted.

Silence hung across the plaza, ominous and holy as she cupped her hands and brought the wine to her mouth. Elnok’s eyes widened as everyone in the crowd kneeled, even the children, and bowed their foreheads to the ground. Something between disgust and fear roiled in his chest at the heaviness; he felt crushed under this sense of sacrifice in exchange for life.

Yet, wasn’t that what he was doing for Orym?

He shoved the thought away as he finally saw what he’d been hoping for: Sylzenya’s hands shook, lower lip quivering as she surveyed the plaza. Sweat lined her forehead, a droplet dripping down her temple as she gulped. A crack in her facade, just like he’d seen earlier that evening on the temple’s balcony. The look of someone hiding something—the look of a liar.

The moment she found his stare, her arms stilled, lips curving into a confident smile and dark blue eyes glimmering with purpose as if nothing happened.

As if he didn’t see through her little act.

“Prince Elnok,” she said, motioning for him to approach the fountain, “if you would.”

The crowd returned to their feet, whispers floating through the air, discussion growing the longer he waited. He could try and expose her, although he wasn’t sure what exactly he’d be exposing. Besides, these people had no reason to trust him. They bowed before her, as if she was their goddess in the flesh.

He’d have to drink the wine, and then he’d uncover Sylzenya’s secret.

“Of course,” Elnok replied, heart racing as he approached the fountain.

The heat in his body chilled as the sharp scent filled his nose. He worked his jaw back and forth. The wine’s deep red color appeared almost black in the white fountain. He could smell the burning steel rod as he filled his hands with the wine. He could hear Tosh’s voice as he slowly lifted the liquid to his lips.

He drank two sips before his knees cracked against hard marble.

The plaza disappeared. Tosh’s angry shouts surrounded him, his brother jeering at him—taunting him.

You’re going to steal it from me.

You always wanted the Crown.

You’re planning to kill me!

Dark damp stone encircled him—Vutror’s dungeons closing in tighter and tighter. Hot iron pressed into Elnok’s back, his family’s royal symbol branded into his skin. Elnok’s throat burned as he screamed. He begged Tosh to stop, tried to tell him he didn’t want the Crown. But Tosh wouldn’t listen, tempering the steel rod again and pressing it into Elnok’s burning flesh.

Bile rose in his throat, the wine stinging as it came back up and passed over his tongue. He gasped for air as Tosh's screams threatened to drown him.

The rod burned him a final time before he lost consciousness.

Elnok woke to murmuring voices. Soft fabric pilled underneath his fingers as he took a deep breath, the mattress he laid on groaning in response. Blinking away the haziness in his vision, he tried to sit, but his aching muscles refused.

“I need to guarantee the villagers you’ll be staying with him at all times,” an old woman’s voice whispered.

“And you can tell them it will be so. I swear on Aretta’s blood,” Sylzenya whispered back.

“Do you think—?” The old woman’s voice caught as she lowered her voice further, “Do you think he’s brought the famine with him? Will our people be wrought by sickness? Are we cursed now?”

“He wouldn’t have made it through Lhaal Forest if that were so,” Sylzenya replied, “You can tell the villagers there’s nothing to fear. Our goddess stopped Distrathrus; she wouldn’t leave us vulnerable to a man who can’t hold his wine.”

Elnok’s mind fought to catch up. The villagers were frightened he’d brought the famine and plague to them. If his chest didn’t ache so much, he might’ve laughed.

“Of course, Your Holiness,” the old woman replied.

“Please, Helena, you can just call me Sylzenya.”

“Your kindness has been missed since the day you were dedicated to the temple.” The woman, Helena, continued, “It’s why I was so glad to hear it was you, of all Kreenas, who had been gifted with such power. And as far as your parents…” The woman took a heavy breath. “I should’ve known something was wrong. They’d stopped coming to the weekly fountain ceremonies, but I had assumed it was because your mother’s shop was extra busy due to the springtime bloom.”

“It’s alright,” Sylzenya interrupted, “even the High One hadn’t expected it. Everything’s been figured out, and I can already feel my power grow stronger each day.”

Elnok didn’t miss the strain in her voice.

“Praise Aretta herself,” Helena breathed, “You know, the villagers would be less frightened by the Vutrorian prince if you were to demonstrate your power.”

Sylzenya huffed a small laugh. “I wish I could. But, the High One informed me I can’t use my power until this cure has finished its work. I’m afraid a demonstration will have to wait until then.”

A silence pulled in the room. Elnok fought his way up to his elbows. Sylzenya stood in the doorway, her back to him. She no longer wore her white bloodied robe but a plain brown linen shirt and black linen pants, her ash-colored hair in a single plait down her back. The old woman stood outside the doorway, the gentle wrinkles on her face deepening as she stared long and hard.

“I see,” she replied, “Then I’ll let the villagers know you’ll be with the prince every hour of every day.”

Sylzenya nodded. “Fine by me.”

Helena narrowed her gaze. “I hope you find peaceful sleep, Your Holiness.”

Sylzenya raised her hand as if to reply, but Helena shut the door. Sylzenya’s head drooped along with her shoulders.

Go back to sleep before she sees you.

It’s what Elnok had wanted for over a day now: time to get some fucking rest after an entire day in Lhaal Forest, almost being killed by arachnis, playing political pawn for the High One, and drinking the same fucking wine his brother drowned himself in.

But instead, he stared at this nuisance of a woman and felt… sorry for her.

Damnit.

“So I’m cursed now?” Elnok said, his throat sharp with pain.

Sylzenya jumped, missing a step as she stumbled against the door. She cursed as she stood upright, brushing dust off her pants. Elnok laughed, the pressure in his chest turning into a fit of coughs.

“You could’ve told us you were awake,” she replied, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face.

“But there’s nothing quite like hearing what others have to say about you when they think you’re unconscious,” Elnok said with a smile, “and I must say, I’m rather offended you only see me as a man who can’t hold his wine. Being seen as a curse sounds far more interesting.”

“And who says that’s not how I truly feel about you, Prince?”

“Please, Sylzenya, you can just call me Elnok.” He smirked.

She muttered a string of curses as she strode away from the door. Elnok’s smile grew wider, finding he enjoyed this crude side of her, until she walked behind a white sheet draped across the room, splitting it in half.

Using his rope.

“What is this?” Elnok questioned as he sat up straight, wincing at the pain in his shoulders, “Give me back my rope. If you do it quickly, I’ll forget this offense.”

She slid the white sheet to the side, poking her face through. “I’d rather not.”

She disappeared behind the sheet again.

He let out a long sigh.

“It isn’t meant for decor ,” Elnok replied as he tried to stand, but everything became dizzy. He collapsed back on the bed instead.

“Too bad,” she responded. “While you slept, I spent hours convincing everyone not to arrest and kill you. Thanks to your inability to drink a few sips of wine, we have to share this damned room otherwise everyone thinks you’re going to go on a rampage and curse our kingdom with withering crops and dried riverbeds.” She popped her head out of the sheet again, “So, your rope is collateral damage for the sake of my privacy.”

Elnok rolled his eyes, anger rising in his chest. “Your kingdom is fucking insane.”

“Wonderful. I’ll let the High One know.”

Shit.

Even though he was tired and hungry, he needed to keep in good standing with the High One. He couldn’t afford problems if he was going to find the healing tree.

“What I meant was that I’m not used to this sort of thing. All these rituals and customs…” he said, exasperation in his breath as he allowed some true part of him to be seen, “I’m out of my depth here.”

He waited for her sharp response, but it didn’t come. Instead, she slowly moved the sheet to the side. She was on the ground, legs criss-crossed and face softened.

“Look, let’s just get some decent sleep tonight,” she finally said, “And then we can try this again in the morning. A fresh start.”

“You won’t tell the High One I called your people fucking insane?”

“As long as you don’t tell everyone you’re cursed.”

Relief washed through him. “Deal.”

“Deal.” She motioned to a side table. “Helena made you some salted rice. Should help with your stomach and keep you full.”

She disappeared behind the curtain.

Elnok grunted as he ate the entire bowl. It’d been years since he’d had rice, the last of those crops having died out when he was a young boy. Wistful memories flashed in his mind of those days before his parents died.

Tosh and him learning how to fence together, disobeying their instructors and fighting in the hallways, inevitably disrupting courtly meetings. They’d laughed until they couldn’t breathe; ate chilled grapes in the heat of summer; and listened to their parent’s stories about green trees and bountiful feasts.

Yearning ached in Elnok’s chest. If Aretta’s Willow could cure Orym’s sickness, perhaps it wasn’t a terrible idea for it to cure Tosh as well. If they found it, maybe Elnok wouldn’t just save his friend, but his brother too.

Maybe they could laugh together. Tell stories. Be a family again.

But he’s a monster.

He turned on his side, the bed creaking noisily. Nothing could change what Tosh had done, even if he was cured. Besides, Elnok didn’t have any leads for this damned healing tree. Kharis said to start looking in the temple, but would there really be any information no one else knew about? If the High One didn’t want it found, he’d make sure of it.

Either way, Elnok needed to try.

He’d start the search tomorrow.