Page 13 of To Bleed a Crystal Bloom
Twelve jarsfilledwith bitter white nodes that look like harmless sweets to the untrained eye. But they’re certainly not harmless, and right now, they’re mysalvation.
Placing one under my tongue, I replace the jar, slide the stone back into place, and unroll the rug.
The door swings open.
I jolt, smacking the back of my head on the underside of the bed frame. “Ouch.”
“What the hell are you doing under there?” Baze bristles, his feet rounding the bed.
The Exothryl melts into a creamy liquid I swallow back, snatching an old paintbrush off the ground before wiggling out. By the time I’m free, my heart is squeezing blood through me in fierce, urgent beats.
I peer up at Baze, waving the brush at him. “Would you look at that! I wondered where this had gotten to.”
He frowns, scanning the room, studying my jar full of brushes a touch too long before scanningme—mainly my messy hair.
“I’m surprised you’re even awake,” he says, eyes narrowing as I clamber up and dust myself off. “I thought you’d be out all morning.”
Ignoring his comment, I concentrate on unraveling the braid that falls to my hip, then sweep my hair into a ponytail, the silence stretching between us.
Unsaid words piling up.
He breaks first with a weighted sigh, thrusting my wooden sword at me. “Here. I had the nicks smoothed out so it’s less likely to split. Obviously I’ve got nothing better to do than to run around after you all day.”
“Ohh, you’re handy,” I say with a wink, trying not to bounce all over the place from my sudden surge of migraine-melting, artificially induced adrenaline. “And Rhordyn pays you to be my friend, so quit sulking.”
Muttering something beneath his breath, he spins and stalks toward the door. I follow, snatching my knapsack off its hook, a small smile tipping my lips. At least until he slams to a stop.
Colliding with his back, I let out a denseoomph.
“Wha—” My gaze drops to the discarded undergarment at his feet.
Oops.
“From now on, you meet me in the training hall.” He shudders, pushing forward again. “And no more sleepovers.”
* * *
Itake a step and spin, leashed to Baze’s prowling essence circling me like a shark; feeling his keen stare on my face, my hands, my feet.
The hairs on my arms are at attention, tasting the salty air for movement, the bare soles of my feet cushioned by thick, wild grass.
Every muscle is knotted, poised to pounce. Every shift that doesn’t topple me over the edge of this cliff is a miracle in itself.
A blow of chill, briny air teases past my nose, attempting to tame my internal unrest ...
Failing.
“I hate wearing this stupid thing,” I mutter, insinuating the blindfold knotted around my head. “What’s it supposed to achieve except to scare me into thinking I’m about to step off the precipice and plunge to certain death?”
Another shift of my foot—another quarter spin.
Still alive ...
“By eliminating your sight,” Baze proclaims on a sigh, “we sharpen your other senses. Touch, smell ...”
I scrunch my nose. “Onthatnote, I wish you’d have washed my handmaiden off y—”
“Hearing,” he interrupts. The air shifts, and so do my hands and the sword I’m wielding, intercepting his strike before it can land a hit to my right shoulder.
