Page 19

Chapter 19

A Salve for Wounds

D inner was roasted greens mixed with pepper sauce and slices of freshly baked bread. Sylzenya ate the food mindlessly while Elnok bathed, her focus centered on the compass and everything they’d gone through to get it.

It seemed impossible. There were no monsters in the Temple; there couldn’t be . And yet there had been. The ichthys had asked why its poison hadn’t affected her; why it hadn’t controlled her mind . She didn’t know the answer, could barely make sense of its existence let alone how it could ask her questions. Monsters lived in Lhaal Forest. It was their prison, much like how Estea, in its own way, had become hers.

Elnok had claimed no more monsters lived in the healing pool, but what if more monsters existed in the temple? It could really mean only one thing.

There was a worshiper of Distrathrus among them.

A chill ran up her spine. Centuries ago, there’d been a group of Distrathrus worshippers claiming he’d been the one in the right, not Aretta—that his monsters were innocent and humans were not. Legend said they tried to prove their point by living in the forest alongside its creatures.

They were killed within the hour.

Sylzenya thought back to her vision.

For life there is a price , the bird had said, and only in pain is it made whole. Your choice has been made, and so your consequence is set in blood and stone.

A gold ring turning into blood, filling the orodyte. The bird killed by a thicket of branches. None of it made sense to her.

This price she’d paid, had it already come to pass? It might as well have, because everything changed after she failed the Kreena Rite.

Gripping the compass to her chest, she kneeled to the wood floor. The scent of damp soil filled her lungs. Quickly, she removed a floorboard, revealing a bed of dirt. She and Elnok still hadn’t figured out how they could traverse through Lhaal Forest, their chances of survival slim to none without a divine warrior by their side.

Tilting her head, she listened; the sound of water washing over skin still echoed from the bathing room, which meant Sylzenya had time before Elnok was done.

If she was to do this, she had to do it right now.

She placed the compass on the ground next to her.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

The familiar sound silenced her nerves. Hopefully it would help her in their time of need.

Unclipping the orodyte from her necklace, she dug a hollow hole into the dirt underneath the floorboard. Dirt crusted her fingernails as she shoveled the soil back over the stone, placing her warm palms on top of it. Taking a deep breath, she prayed a silent request for her goddess’ blessing.

Help us find your willow, Aretta.

Sylzenya’s fingers ached with a natural pull towards the earth. She obliged, leaning forward, searching for her goddess’ power woven into the soil, the roots, all that bore life.

Thump.

Thump.

A warm tingle met her palms, Sylzenya’s chest brightening at the long-awaited sensation. Golden sparks flickered from the ground, circling her arms in weak spirals. Even still, it felt like a part of herself had woken up. Excitement rushed through her veins as her goddess’ power sliced into her back. It was sharper than she remembered, deeper; a cry spilled from her mouth. But it didn’t matter.

Help us find your willow , she urged, sweat dripping from her brow. Her fingers dug deeper into the dirt as if she’d never let go.

The golden light flickered, the brightness in her chest fluttering away, the pain in her back sharpening.

Please , Sylzenya begged. Please. Help us.

Air, acidic and sweet, shot into her lungs. The inn’s wooden bed frames and stone walls disappeared, replaced by a dark earthen wall. The walls glinted—cavern walls, she realized—with white and yellow specks of light, like stars in the night. But these weren't stars.

They were pieces of orodyte.

The ancient orodyte mines.

“ Sylzenya .”

A deep, commanding voice overwhelmed her. The cavern vanished, replaced by the sight of her crimson blood dripping down her arms. Elnok caught her as she collapsed.

“Do you have a death wish?” Elnok asked, clearly exasperated. She hung limp in his arms, her blood now smearing on his freshly cleaned hands.

She gulped, trying to find words, but her throat had decidedly become parched. She shrugged instead. He swept a hand through his wet black hair, remnants of water spraying her face. It felt nice, he felt nice.

“She’s blessed us,” Sylzenya finally choked out. “The orodyte mines; that’s how we can get through Lhaal Forest. There’s a rumored entrance to the tunnels in the ancient Willow Grove.”

Elnok’s eyes widened, only to narrow once again. “We could’ve retraced our steps at the temple tomorrow and figured that out. You didn’t need to bleed to death in order for us to learn that.”

The cut felt like flames engulfing her. “Your friend doesn’t have much time before he dies. Why waste more when we can avoid it? We should go tonight.”

He opened his mouth, only to close it, his throat bobbing as his hands held her tighter against his chest. “We’ll take tonight to rest, and leave first thing in the morning.”

“I’ll be fine within the hour.”

“Gods, you really don’t know when to stop, do you?” He sighed. “Look, I need rest too. It’d be unwise to start a journey exhausted if we don’t have to.”

Sylzenya scratched her palm. He was right; and she was tired too.

“Suppose one more night in a bed would be nice,” she muttered.

“Come on,” he said, “your turn to bathe.”

After drinking water and regaining her ability to walk, Sylzenya took a quick warm bath. The soapy water stung her back, but she held in her yell.

The innkeeper, Helena, had given her a thin satin robe, detailed with intricate lace. She had said it was a gift in exchange for her teachings in the village. Sylzenya had gladly accepted it, the cool material refreshing on her heated skin. Wiping a towel over her stinging cut before putting on the robe, she sighed with relief, returning to the bedroom.

“I have a surprise for you,” Elnok said as she shut the door.

She spun around. Elnok was sitting on his bed, a small box with silver edges in his hands.

“A surprise?” Sylzenya asked, a heat blooming along her cheeks when Elnok’s eyes drifted to her robe.

It wasn’t just a thin piece of material, it was short, with a deep “v” allowing her cleavage a chance to breathe. She would be lying if she said a part of her didn’t want Elnok to see her like this, but another part of her chastised herself for being evocative. There would be nothing to come from this. He was leaving the moment he got the cure for his friend. Here and then gone.

But then his breathless smile made her heart flutter, and she was glad she wore the robe.

“Since you refuse to listen to reason and continue to hurt yourself, I’ve got just the thing to help ease at least some of the pain.”

He raised the box. Curious, she approached him, his thin black tunic accentuating his corded arms.

“It’s a salve,” he said, opening the box to reveal a clear substance with a consistency of honey, “If you’d like, I can put some along your scar?”

She should say no. Only Aretta’s healing waters could cure her cut, anything else typically just added an uncomfortable stickiness to her skin and ruined her clothes. But as his lips parted with a warm smile, she stepped forward.

“Interesting,” she said, “I’d almost say that’s kind of you.”

He shrugged. “Even I’m capable of generous acts every so often.”

She rolled her eyes as he positioned himself at the edge of his bed, legs spread apart; he motioned for her to stand in between them. Heart pounding against her chest, she decided this was more than likely a normal occurrence for outlanders; something he offered most people he traveled with.

So she turned around, her back facing his front.

Gently, he placed a strong calloused hand on her hip. Her breath caught, arms pimpling as he guided her closer to him.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And if you could,” he paused, his fingers tightening on her hip, “move your robe a bit? That way I can reach all of it.”

Chest growing heavy, Sylzenya turned to look at him. “Right.”

He smiled, a confidence mixed with a gentleness in his green eyes. Slowly, she let the silk fabric fall off her shoulders, exposing her entire back. A chill ran through her skin, causing her nipples to peak. She ignored the heat burning her cheeks.

“This could sting at first,” he whispered, his voice lower than before, a kind of huskiness to it she hadn’t noticed.

She nodded, her breaths short as a sharp cold touched her skin. She jumped.

“Sorry about that.” He laughed, deep and warm.

“You did warn me.” She chuckled, stealing a glance behind her shoulder, watching as Elnok glided his hand along her skin—the part of her she’d been told was holy since she’d first ushered her goddess’ power.

The part of her body where suffering originated, giving life and taking her blood in return. Elnok’s face softened, and his brows furrowed—an intention in his features leaving Sylzenya at a loss for words.

“How does this feel?” he whispered, pulling her closer to him, heat rising in her lower belly as she obeyed his implicit requests.

It felt… it felt like everything. While this salve did far more than most, a strong mint leaf, no doubt, it was his skin on hers, showing her a gentleness where she typically only felt pain.

He touched her like she was sacred.

“It feels fine,” she said, trying not to let her emotions show, a small sob sitting in the back of her throat.

“And how about this?”

He leaned in, pursing his lips and lightly blowing on her scar. Wings fluttered in her stomach. She leaned further into his touch. Blowing on her skin again, his lips ever so lightly grazed her shoulder blade.

Sylzenya’s breath hitched.

“I see,” he said in a low voice, a small smile on his lips.

Before she could respond, his other hand gripped her waist, pulling her closer to his warm body. Everything within her succumbed to him. She turned, letting the robe slip down her arms. Elnok ran his palm up to her side, his rough hands a balance to her soft skin.

“Sylzenya,” he whispered, extending his face towards her, his eyes dipping to her lips. “You are…”

His words were lost in the air, in his breaths and in his touch, in Sylzenya’s want for more of this. More of him . She leaned forward, wanting to know what his lips felt like on hers?—

No.

Reality split her open like another cut on her back. Collecting herself, she quickly pulled her robe back on her body, stepping away from Elnok, his hands sliding from her waist.

He stood up, eyes blinking as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Sylzenya, my apologies.”

“No, no, it’s alright.”

“I’m just so tired, and things are stressfu?—”

“I understand,” she assured him. “Thanks for the salve and I hope you have a good night.”

Without another word she disappeared behind the makeshift curtain. She ignored the shuffling of his feet as he blew out the flame.

The undeniable pulse between her legs ached with longing for Elnok. But she had to stop herself, needed to. There was no point in getting physically involved with this prince, or whatever he really was, because they would part once they found Aretta’s Willow. This wasn’t a time for distractions.

Forcing herself to forget, she closed her eyes, trying to think about the compass, getting to Aretta’s Willow, escaping monsters?—

But then her hip burned, the shape of his hand seared into her skin. All she could imagine was his full lips on hers, his hard stomach underneath her fingernails, his hair tangled in her fingers.

He was insufferable, yet he was kind. Dangerous and handsome. Sarcastic and courageous. She wanted that dirty mouth of his on hers, on every part of her body. He was rough when he wrapped her in his ropes and blackmailed her, but gentle as he bathed her back in his salve, worshiping the most sensitive parts of herself.

He was a living contradiction, and she only wanted more.

Damn all this pain she constantly carried. Maybe, just this once, not everything needed to be covered in her blood.

She ripped the blankets off her body, staring at the sheet hanging across their room, so much like the forest keeping his land from hers. A barrier not meant to be crossed, and yet it somehow made everything more desperate. She stood tup, blood pumping fast as she pulled the sheet aside.

Sylzenya stilled.

Elnok stood before her, shirtless, chest heaving. His linen pants hung low on his hips, eyes wild as he drank her in. His hand was outstretched as if, he too, was about to tear down this damned wall she’d built between them.

“Elnok,” she whispered, all breath and no substance as she stepped towards him, “I couldn’t sleep…”

But she couldn’t find anymore words as Elnok grabbed her waist and dragged her against his warm skin, pressing his lips to her mouth. Everything shifted, as if the ground beneath her gave way, falling into something warm and dark, a deep pleasure burning through her skin.

“Sylzenya,” he breathed, his low whisper pulsing against her skin, twisting in between her legs, “If you don’t want this?—”

“I want this,” she whispered, tracing her thumb along his stubbled jaw, “I’m so tired of pain, Elnok.”

He tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling on it, exposing her neck. He trailed kisses along her sensitive skin, his warm, wet tongue marking a trail up to her ear. A cold shiver rushed along her skin.

“You talk so much of pain, but when was the last time you felt pleasure?”

His words brushed along her ear, drawing liquid heat in between her legs. He’d been unraveling her since the moment they’d met, challenging whom she trusted, and inspiring her to choose her own path. He’d pulled a single thread on a life already falling to pieces.

And yet, it didn’t anger her. While her life had shattered around her, this man stood next to her despite it. He didn’t expect perfection from her, didn’t expect her to save him. Didn’t ask her to bleed pain so she could give life.

To him, she wasn’t the holy chosen one.

She was just Sylzenya.

“Please,” she gasped, wrapping her legs around his torso. His hands caught her thighs, a low rumble in his throat as his fingers dug into her skin. “Please unravel every last part of me.”

He laughed, low and deep against her neck, his tongue circling her ear; a moan released from her lips.

“How can I deny such a desperate request?”