Endure - Sara B. Larson Page 0,68
tube he’d taken my blood with. “You broke your word to me, and you helped prisoners to escape.”
The icy talons of fear scraped down my spine at the cold fury in his eyes when he looked up at me. “And yet, you survived. You always do. You kill those far more powerful than you, and you always survive.” He turned the device over so that the sharp point, still wet with my blood, was pressed into his fingertip. “Perhaps your blood will make me invincible, too.” He pushed it harder, until his skin broke and his blood mingled with mine. A terrifying smile turned his lips up as he stared down at the crimson fluid dripping down his finger, a malicious expression that reminded me all too much of his brother, Hector.
“I’m not invincible. I’ve just been lucky,” I replied.
His eyes snapped to mine and he lunged forward, shoving the sharp device beneath my jaw, into the bend of my throat where my blood pounded a drumbeat of terror against my skin, despite my attempts to seem unaffected by their torture and cruelty.
“Too bad the same luck didn’t extend to your friend. Do you know what we did to his body?” The king’s hot breath on my face made my stomach turn. “We dragged it outside the palace and left it to rot in the sun. We fed him to the bitrius — the birds who pecked at his flesh, tearing him away in bits and pieces until there was nothing left but bones.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, turning my head away from King Armando, refusing to let him see the tears that burned for release. My chest heaved as I tried to control my breathing, to not let myself imagine Eljin’s poor body defiled in such a horrific way.
But he hadn’t said anything about Rylan — and that made me wonder if he’d managed to get away.
Suddenly, the king straightened, pulling the blade away from my throat. “We need more of her blood.”
“I already bled her today, Your Majesty,” The Summoner responded.
“We are marching out tomorrow. I need her blood now.”
“Tomorrow, Your Majesty?” The Summoner sounded as shocked as I felt at this announcement. What did that mean — was he marching on Antion? Was he going to fight Damian? Why the sudden urgency?
A horrible, grasping panic had seized my body, making my breath come harder and harder. My limbs felt as though I’d been running for hours, weak and trembling, and my heart raced.
“Get as much of her blood as you can without killing her. Then prepare to leave. She comes with us.”
I opened my eyes to see the king drop the device on the cot beside me, and turning on his heel, he strode away.
Despite my best intentions to stay alert, my head swam from blood loss and dehydration, and I had to fight to remain awake as I lay on the sandy ground where they’d tied me for the night — the first night after marching out of the palace earlier that morning. The ropes that were tied around my arms and torso were almost tight enough to cut off my circulation — assuming I had much blood left at this point — and then wound around the tent pole behind me.
The size of the army King Armando had assembled was beyond comprehension. From my vantage point, tied to one of the smaller mares behind The Summoner’s much larger mount, I hadn’t been able to see the beginning or the end of the line of soldiers, horses, sorcerers, and other animals and people who were marching toward Antion — toward Damian and the only people left in the world whom I loved. There had been crowds of women and children outside the palace, lining the stone street that wound through the city made up of buildings the color of the sand with what looked like some sort of clay tiles for roofs. The only color in the city was in the curtains and blankets that hung from windows and doors, dyed in vibrant hues, and the clothes the citizens wore. The women and children all dressed in the longer robes Dansiians seemed to favor, some in brightly woven colors, with silken scarves wrapped around their heads to protect them from the relentless sun, while others wore more drab colors, with plainer, rough-looking fabric wrapped over their heads. The rich and the poor came to see off their men, led by the mad king who ruled over