Endure - Sara B. Larson Page 0,74

of ground the tent had been set up on.

Akio lunged for the edge of the tent, rolling underneath it as quickly as he could, but the flap opened before he’d made it completely. My heart jumped into my throat when The Summoner marched in, but through a twist of luck, his head was turned back, looking at someone behind him rather than forward at the interior of his tent. Akio slipped away without discovery.

But my focus was now on The Summoner, who was no longer alone. Directly behind him was King Armando.

The king slowly made his way toward me, his piercing blue eyes studying me the way a predator inspects its prey before devouring it.

“You’re right,” he said at last, making me wonder what on earth I was right about — until he turned to face The Summoner. “She’s not going to last the week like this. We need to conserve her blood — for now. Until the opportune moment.”

I glared up at him, keeping my face emotionless. He wore all black again, except for his usual sash and the golden crown inlaid with many large gemstones that glittered, even in the darkness inside the tent.

“You’d best start giving her water — just enough so that her blood supply will rebuild.” The king’s eyes narrowed as he bent down to grab my jaw. “Your blood had better not fail me.” His voice was deadly quiet.

I remained silent, clenching my teeth against the bruising force of his fingers on my skin.

Finally, he shoved my head back, slamming it against the pole behind me. Armando straightened and turned to The Summoner. “We’re almost there,” he said. “Soon, you will have your ultimate reward.”

The Summoner nodded, bending his head and bowing to the king as Armando strode out of the tent, leaving us alone once more.

The Summoner almost seemed angry when he uncapped his flagon and pushed it against my lips.

“Drink,” he commanded, as if I needed his urging.

I swallowed as much as I could before he yanked it away and wiped it off, then recapped it. Apparently, my blood was fit to be consumed, but he couldn’t bring himself to drink out of the same flagon that I had without cleaning it first.

Though I was still starving, the water and the small bit of cheese at least filled my stomach with something as I rolled onto my side, away from The Summoner’s disconcerting stare, to try and sleep that night. But even though I knew I was safe from him once his usual soft snore began, I still couldn’t relax. Too many questions, too many fears, and too many hopes all conspired to keep me up most of the night. The worst one of all was wondering what had happened to Damian. When I’d left, Blevon had just declared war on Antion again, through General Tinso. What if Blevon had invaded and this time succeeded in defeating Antion? What if Damian was …

I couldn’t even let myself finish the thought. He was alive. He had to be alive.

I repeated it to myself for hours until, finally, I drifted off to sleep only a short while before dawn.

The next day, we woke to a storm, the first I’d seen in weeks. The first bit of rain broke as I slumped in the saddle upon my horse, tied to the metal ring as usual, my feet tied to the stirrups as well this time, waiting in the huge line of soldiers and sorcerers that made up the Dansiian army as it slowly passed through the one opening in the wall that would allow us into Antion. I’d never gone this long without food, and despite Akio’s attempts to help me, I could barely sit up in the saddle. But the rain had a rejuvenating effect on me. I opened my mouth and let it drip onto my teeth and tongue, running down my throat.

Those little droplets of water plopping on my skin, rolling down my cheeks and neck and arms, made me realize how much I’d missed the jungle. I’d spent my whole life hating it — fearing it — but now, after my time as a prisoner in Dansii, I realized just how much I loved Antion. It was dangerous, yes. But it was also beautiful, and lush. Water was never in short supply, and the heat was tempered by the steady storms.

It hadn’t been that long when soldiers began shouting at us all in Dansiian, pushing the line back rather than forward.

“What’s