To Bleed a Crystal Bloom by Sarah A. Parker

To Bleed a Crystal Bloom by Sarah A. Parker

Author:Sarah A. Parker [A. Parker, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-23T18:30:00+00:00


I’m going to die.

Baze’s sword whistles through the air, nicking my shirt and sending me stumbling down The Plank—the felled tree that stretches from one side of the deep, ashen pond to the other. His follow-up jab has my foot sliding too far to the side, and my arms windmill.

The glossy water may look serene, but the lofty marshes circumnavigating the lagoon are a fence that contains the sinister truth. Something I’m trying not to think about as I totter on the ball of my right foot.

I find my center of gravity and fall into a crouch, chest heaving, sweat dripping down my temples.

“Orlaith, focus.” Baze points his wooden sword at me. “A little blood is no excuse to slack off.”

I doubt he’d have the same attitude if his dick was bleeding.

“You’re not playing fair,” I rasp, unfurling like an emerging fern frond ... though nowhere near as glamorous.

His eyes widen, upper lip peeling from his teeth.

I shuffle back.

“And you’re not shielding your weakness.” He makes another dextrous stab for my innards, but I leap out of reach. “And I’m playing more than fair. I didn’t make you wear a blindfold, though I have one on hand in case you continue to move like molasses,” he purrs, donning a sharp smirk.

“I am not moving like molasses!”

“Are too.”

I hiss, bounding forward, swinging so fast I nick a hole in his shirt. I smile, reveling in the win ... forgetting my flank is wide open until his sword collides with my ribs, knocking the air out of me.

My foot slips and the last thing I see before I strike the surface of the pond is Baze tipping his head to the sky.

The water snatches me with an icy grip, the stark chill of it shocking my lungs and almost convincing me to suck a breath. I kick, sword still captive in my closed fist, legs churning.

This pond isn’t like the ocean. It’s not salty and swirling and home to my best friend. It’s still and stagnant and it smells just a little bit like dead things.

I break the surface and gasp, dashing a slimy piece of weed off my face, caught in the crossfire of Baze’s cutting glare. “Help me up!” I shriek, trying to ignore the splashing sounds that certainly aren’t coming from me.

“Did you keep hold of your sword?” he drawls, as if we have all the time in the world.

I wave the thing above my head.

“Lucky ...” He crouches, watching me with a bemused expression. “But really, I should make you swim to the edge for leaving yourself so open.”

Something brushes against my foot.

“Hand!” I squeal, and he finally reaches out. I lunge forward, grasp his palm in mine, and curl my legs as he hauls me free of the frightening water and plonks me on the log.

I gulp air, sodden hair an anchor down my back.

Baze kneels, features hard, eyes frosty like the ground on a stark winter’s morning. “That was sloppy, Orlaith.”

“You almost left me for selkie bait,” I sputter.



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