and recorked, she set it aside and undressed, piling her boots and clothing beside the waterskin. The final thing to come off was the makeshift under cloth she’d fashioned during her bleeding. Anticipation thrummed through her as she untied the cloth, lowered it from between her legs, and looked down.
There was no blood staining the soft moss she’d packed in the cloth.
Her bleeding had come to an end.
Arysteon’s words came back to her, filling her with excitement.
The scent of your bleeding has faded, and there is much you are owed.
He had known! It was no wonder he had looked upon her with such open lust, no wonder he had teased her with those words.
Sensual images swirled in her head, making her core grow warm and slick. Impatient to return to him, she wadded up the under cloth, tossed it aside, and stepped into the waist-high water.
Leyloni hissed. The shock of cold was enough to make her teeth briefly chatter and her body shudder. Crushing the soapberries between her hands, she made quick work of washing her body and hair.
She was shivering by the time she pulled herself back onto the grassy bank. After shaking some excess water from her limbs, she bent down to retrieve her clothes. She pulled on her skirt and was tying its lacings when a branch snapping nearby shattered the forest’s peaceful ambience.
Leyloni’s heart skipped a beat, and her breath caught in her throat, amplifying the icy fear slithering up her spine. Her attention darted toward the source of the sound—a thicket near the riverbank, within a dozen or so paces of her. Apart from the slight swaying of leaves in the breeze, she saw no signs of movement. That comforted her little. The undergrowth was too thick for her to see very far into the thicket, and there were many forest creatures—including some large ones—adept at hiding themselves while on the prowl.
Like massive dragons, apparently.
The little hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up, and an uncomfortable, itchy heat coursed over her skin. Something was watching her, and her instincts said that her watcher was no friend. She scanned her surroundings slowly, seeking even the slightest hint of anything amiss.
And damn my hands, I did not bring my knife.
This was not the sort of mistake she would have made before meeting Arysteon. Even before her people had been attacked, she had always carried her knife at the very least, though she’d preferred the heft of a spear most of the time.
But there’d be time later to berate herself for being so careless.
Moments passed, marked by the rapid thumping of her heart. She heard no other sounds of movement beyond the river’s ceaseless burbling and the rustling of leaves overhead.
Leyloni kept her eyes in motion as she hurriedly unfolded her top, barely sparing it a glance. Though she’d seen no signs of danger, her unease had not faded.
No, no, no. Mother Eurynome, please. Do not allow our peace to end so soon.
She pulled on her top, haphazardly tying its laces as she stepped into her boots. Arysteon was close. She needed only to get back to him, and his presence would scare away whatever creature was stalking her now.
Pain flared on her lower back, and Leyloni jolted forward, a startled breath escaping her lips. It felt like the unexpected sting of an insect, concentrated in one tiny point and far more agonizing than anything so small had right to be. But the pulses of heat and cold radiating outward from that point were unlike anything she’d ever experienced, whether from bite or sting.
She twisted to look behind her, expecting to find some insect buzzing angrily in the air, perhaps ready to sting her again. But there was nothing there—neither in the air nor on the ground. Her brow furrowed. This was wrong, she knew it, but she could not think around the pain or the pulsating hot-cold sensation.
The skin immediately around the sting tingled as though losing feeling. Leyloni’s brows knitted further, and alarm broke through the haze that had been settling over her mind. Swallowing thickly, she contorted her arm to reach behind her, feeling blindly, desperately, until her fingers finally struck a small, solid object protruding from her lower back.
Her blood turned to ice as she took hold of the object and tugged it out. The pain of its removal was muted, like an echo that had faded over a great distance. She barely kept her arm from trembling as