Page 39 of To Bleed a Crystal Bloom
The closer I get to the scintillating shoreline, the more his excitement infects me.
Orlaith likes round rocks, but the ocean isn’t wild enough in this part of the world to polish anything smooth. However ... I think she might appreciate a crystal that catches the sun and spits it out in all the colors of the rainbow.
What she painted for me was truly special. She managed to capture the essence of this island without sighting it or understanding its significance. Or its heartbreaking history.
Though the baby conch was nice, it didn’t show her my full gratitude.
Resolve hardens my features.
One for our trove, another for her.
Zykanth hums his agreement, and I inch forward. My hands bunch, release, bunch, release. Every frill tests the water for the slightest shift in flow. I draw a breath, my hand stretched out as though I’m much closer than I really am ...
A chill slithers down my spine, stilling the swish of my tail and the blood in my veins, blasting apart my impulse.
‘She’s watching.’
‘Get it!’
‘No.’ I begin a slow, steady retreat. ‘Today is not the day.’
My skin itches, scales threatening to pierce through. He tries to shove me forward from within, rattling the cage of my ribs, and my entire body shudders from the impact.
I snarl. ‘You want to end up dead on that beach?’
He doesn’t have to answer for me to know he thinks it’s worth the risk.
I spin and bolt through the open ocean so fast I barely have a chance to draw another breath before I’m retracing my path through the icebergs, his chaotic roars pulsing through the water.
It’s not until I’m free from the trench that I no longer feel as though I’m being followed. Still, I don’t dare loosen my hold on my thrashing beast. Probably won’t until I can find something else to distract him with.
It never used to be like this.
These waters were once safe and peaceful.
Teeming.
Now, they have a mind of their own, and they’re angry, vicious ...
Deadly.
Standing guard over the ruins of a once-thriving relic—a job that used to belong tous.
I should be used to the taste of failure by now.
I’m not.
Ablade of sun strikes my face, rousing me, and I unleash a raspy groan. Though I shield my eyes with a limp hand, I steal a moment to bathe in the soothing luster before rolling in the direction of my bedside table.
Something hard thuds to the ground, and I frown, cracking an eye open as I peer over the edge.
My wooden sword lies nestled amongst bits of discarded clothing.
“Shit.”
I’m late.
Groaning, I tumble out of bed in an ungraceful heap, my tender brain bouncing around inside my skull.
