Page 201 of Anathema

“In the woods,” I lied.

“Hmph.” She waved a hand and shook her head. “Nothing living in those woods. Not even the creature that once dwelled there.” A quick once over, and she added, “Certainly not you.”

I didn’t want to say where I’d been, for fear she might’ve questioned my state of mind. Even I still questioned it. “I watched that creature swallow Moros on the night of The Banishing.”

Eyes narrowed on mine, she ran her tongue across her teeth. “Then, what emerged wasn’t Moros.”

“I don’t think it was.”

Lips pursed, she nodded slowly, and I wondered if she suspected there to be more beyond those woods. If she could possibly fathom a whole other world. “What do you say we share some stew? Been a long time since I had any company. After supper, I’ll fix you a bed.” She raised a brow, staring out of the corner of her eye toward Zevander. “If that’s sufficient for you.”

I swallowed a gulp at the idea sharing a bed with him. “We’d be grateful.” A quick glance toward Zevander showed him staring back at me, a hint of amusement behind his otherwise dark gaze.

With a nod, she pushed from her chair and hobbled across the small space toward a cupboard, which held only a few bowls and mugs. When she returned to the hearth, she ladled the stew into all three bowls, handing one off to me, and one off to Zevander. “Would you like some water to go with it?”

“Yes, please,” I said, noticing the dryness in my throat.

Twisting to Zevander, she cocked a brow. “And you?”

“Got anything a little harder than that?”

Lips stretched to a smile, she nodded. “Depends on your preference for hard. Most can’t handle my home brew.”

“I’ll take that.”

After another trip to the cupboards, she returned to the hearth with two cups, one sloshing water onto the floor, as she limped her way back. The other, she set in front of Zevander, along with a dark, corked bottle. After placing my water onto the floor beside my chair, she took her seat, and as she poked at her stew a moment, I waited to see her take a bite.

As if sensing my stare, her gaze lifted to mine, and I cleared my throat, mixing the stew around with my spoon. “It smells delicious.”

“The poisoner worried that I poisoned her?” She let out a dark chuckle and spooned a bite into her mouth. “Doesn’t bother me so much these days. Not even your Snake Tooth.”

I raised a brow at that. “You’ve consumed poison?”

“In one form, or another. But the stew is clean of it.” She spooned another bite into her mouth, and I turned to Zevander, who sniffed it, crinkling his nose before taking a bite. In his world, stews were hearty, filled with fresh vegetables and meat. Winter stews were always thin in Foxglove, with no more than the roots of whatever had been harvested and saved from the prior summer.

On seeing him, I spooned a bite, as well. Even the savory flavor of it warmed my belly. “So, my sister—you haven’t seen her, at all, then?”

“Not at all.” Another slurp of her stew, and she lowered the bowl to her lap. “Where might you have met your traveling companion? Seems rather brawny for these parts.” Though she didn’t bother to look at him, it was clear she was talking about Zevander. “Doesn’t say much, does he? Except when he’s giving threats.”

Zevander lifted the bottle of liquor and popped the cork, giving it a sniff, just as he had the stew. Seemingly satisfied, he poured some into the cup beside him. “Perhaps you might tell me how you knew to speak Nyxterosi,” he said, tipping back the cup without so much as a wince, before he setting it back down and pouring another round.

Before I could argue the point on her behalf, as I still swore that I’d been speaking Vonkovyan the whole time, a smile crept over Elowen’s face.

“One might imagine that centuries of living here might’ve caused me to forget my native tongue.”

My jaw unhinged, and I curled my fingers around my bowl to keep from dropping it.

“Lunasier?” Zevander asked, taking another sip of his drink.

“Nilivir. I was rejected by the Lunasier,” she said with a bitter bite. “So, I left my home and traveled north.” After spooning another bite, she chewed the meat slowly, and slid her gaze toward me. “It was the Corvikae who took me in.”

“That would’ve been nearly a millennia ago, given how long Corvus Keep has stood abandoned. That makes you the oldest Nilivir I’ve ever met.” Zevander sat forward, the intrigue in his expression unmistakable. “You knew the Corvikae.”

“I did. Lived with them a good portion of my life. They didn’t care about power, or status. They accepted me for what I was. A living, breathing Aethyrian.”

Zevander rested his elbows on his knees. “Were you there when they abandoned the castle?”

On a mirthless chuckle, she shook her head. “Is that what your history tells you, young man? That they so easily gave up their land?”

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