The Sting of Victory by S.D. Simper

Author:S.D. Simper [Simper, S.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, romance, series
Publisher: Endless Night Publications
Published: 2018-09-13T23:00:00+00:00

* * *

For seven days, they travelled. Seven roses lay secured in her bag, and with each addition came a growing sense of dismay.

Tonight, the elusive twelfth rose would be delivered. Flowridia hoped Ayla held enough tact to not deliver the promise of her body with it, acutely aware of Thalmus and Etolié’s proximity.

A slight headache weighed on her, minimal sleep having taken a toll, she figured. Peering from the window, the landscape held odd protrusions. Grasslands, yes, and cleared forests, but in the distance, enormous dirt towers stood erect.

Flowridia frowned, realizing holes littered the surface, reminding her of termite towers she had observed in her youth. With Aura by her side, Flowridia had once spent hours watching them skitter within a fallen tree. Their strength came from numbers, thousands of them steadily tearing it apart.

“Thalmus,” she asked, “what are those towers?”

With some difficulty, Thalmus managed to strain his neck enough to see out the window. “Skalmite structures.”

“What’s a Skalmite?”

“When the planes converged, creatures other than demons and angels touched our world. Giants, gnolls, merfolk – creatures not meant for our atmosphere. Most acclimated. Skalmites never did. They weaken in the sunlight, and it’s rumored the presence of magic drives them mad.”

Etolié’s voice and a fist against the back wall interrupted their conversation. “We need to stop. Flowers, grab your suitcase.”

The carriage rolled to a stop. Flowridia swung open the door, allowing Demitri to jump out before letting her bare feet join him on the dirt road.

The surrounding guards all attempted not to gawk, but Etolié simply frowned, her wings serenely floating behind her back, apparently unperturbed by fact that she was entirely naked. Flowridia stopped, averting her eyes. “Etolié, what happened?”

“Can’t you feel it?” Etolié asked, staring out into space. Her translucent wings did little to shield her modesty. “The magic here is twisted, like the strings got tangled. Don’t try casting any spells, Flowers. You might get murderous results.”

Thalmus appeared behind her, but the moment Etolié came into view, he immediately spun on his heels. He braced himself against the side of the carriage, growing stiff, avoiding Flowridia’s eye when she came around. “Can you get me my suitcase?” she asked, and she wondered at the panic in his eyes as he processed her words.

Then, he released a steadying sigh. “What happened to Etolié’s clothing?”

“I’m assuming she’ll tell me once I get her a dress,” Flowridia said carefully, sensing something raw and festering beneath Thalmus’ stone exterior.

She watched as the stark shock on his face faded into something more void and resigned, annoyed even. Slowly, he reached up above the carriage and pulled her bag from the pile. Once he’d placed it on the ground, he hurried himself back into the carriage, slamming the door with more force than Flowridia deemed particularly necessary.

Flowridia carried her bag to where Etolié waited. “None of this explains why you’re naked.”

“Illusion spell. Fabric irritates me.”

Frowning, Flowridia stopped. “You mean to tell me you never wear clothing?”

“Not a single day you’ve known me, Flowers.

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