Page 137 of Anathema

“Potatoes?” She scoffed. “These aren’t potatoes, Girl. They’re called pahzatsz. It’s a root.”

“Pah-zahts,” I mimicked, minus the thick accent she’d spoken in. “May I?” I held out my hand for the knife, which earned me a suspicious look.

“Just know, you try anything tricky with the blade, and we’ll be having mortal girl stew for supper.” She certainly wasn’t reserved when it came to her threats.

“That sounds like a horrible meal to me.”

Her lips curved to a smile, and she slapped the broad side of the knife into my palm. “You cut the pahzatsz, I’ll cut the meat.”

With a nod, I placed the knife on the wooden surface and turned to the sink—an elaborately carved metal spigot attached to a black porcelain basin filled with water. I washed my hands then returned to my station, where I chopped the roots, while Magdah quietly cut the meat that I eyed from where I stood.

“Magdah, may I take some of the meat to Branimir?”

Her brows came together as though his very name made her sad. She gave a silent nod and divided some of the pieces she’d cut onto a separate plate. After having cut all the pahzatsz, I moved on to chopping onions, carrots, and some other strange vegetable I couldn’t pronounce.

Magdah then handed me the plate of meat. “Thank you,” she said, as I took the plate from her. “Appreciate the help.”

I gave a slight smile and scampered off for the dungeons with Branimir’s loathsome supper in hand. Down the staircase and corridor, I carried the plate. Along the way, I passed beautifully carved statues of angels, and on rounding the corner for the cells, I noted Dolion’s stood empty–probably off studying bones and scrolls with Allura. In my staring, I slammed headfirst into an unyielding wall of muscle, and while I succeeded in keeping the plate clutched in my hands, some of the meat fell onto the floor with a splat.

I glanced up to find Zevander’s angry eyes staring down at me. Without the mask covering his face, I finally managed to absorb the severity of his scar up close, which looked like a poorly healed gash, with tiny cracks out of which dark veins branched across his lips and down his chin. Against his honey-toned skin and rough-hewn face, it had a ghastly beauty about it, giving him a fierce appearance, with his scintillating eyes that reminded me of a blazing fire. My fingertips itched to do something bold, like touch him.

“What do you think you’re doing? Did I not make it clear that you’re not to visit Branimir on your own?” A furious tension sharpened his tone.

I stepped back, clearing my throat. “I didn’t think you’d want to accompany me, after what happened this afternoon. I figured you might be angry with me.” By comparison, my voice was softer, almost too soft.

His gaze fell to the plate. “You’re too late. He’s already had supper.”

“Oh.” I lowered to the ground, gathering up the fallen chunks of meat onto the plate. “Well, it would be a waste to toss this. Perhaps the fyredrakes might eat it?” I held the plate out to him, noticing the trembling of my hand.

He wordlessly accepted the pile of meat without bothering to look down at it, his steely gaze unwavering.

“May I sing to him, at least?”

“He’s occupied at the moment.”

Frustrated, I set my hands on my hips. “Are you mad at me? Is that why you won’t let me see him?”

“Why do you care?” He dropped the plate onto an adjacent stone ledge and lurched toward me, backing me up a step.

“Why don’t you?” I countered, frowning up at him.

“You know nothing of me.” He advanced again, forcing me backward.

“And you know nothing of me.” A pathetic retort, but the fury in his eyes and his intimidating stature dulled my wit. My spine hit the stone wall behind me, warning me there was nowhere else to go.

He raised a muscled arm, blocking me from my path, and I didn’t even have to look at the massive limb in my periphery to know he could’ve crushed my skull in the crook of his elbow like a walnut, if he were ambitious enough. That intoxicating mix of spice and amber pervaded my senses. “Perhaps you can enlighten me. What was that in the training room?”

“I haven’t a clue. All of this is foreign to me. Magic, power. I don’t know what happened.”

His jaw ticced, and he planted his other arm against the wall, effectively caging me in, bringing his face mere inches from mine. “You felt nothing.”

My blood vibrated with his proximity, the heat of his body swallowing the chilly air. It was then I remembered the dress I’d worn, with its busty corset, but he didn’t so much as glance at my breasts. Not that he’d have had to go out of his way when they were so blatantly in his face. “I didn’t say that.”

“What did you feel? Tell me.” His gaze fell to my lips.

Drowning in humiliation, I turned away from him. “I’d rather not say.”

He hooked a finger beneath my chin and drew my attention back to him. “Tell me.”

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