Page 100 of Anathema

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

MAEVYTH

“Idiot.” Still sat on the bed, I held my face in my palms, chiding myself for the ridiculous outburst from earlier. While I had been known to spout off at the mouth on occasion, I’d never lost my temper quite so abruptly as I had with Zevander. What a complete fool. If there was an inkling of hope that he might’ve returned me to Aleysia, my little tantrum had certainly crushed any chance of it.

The weight of everything had pressed down on me, and in that moment, I’d crumbled. Of course, his comment certainly hadn’t helped.

Freedom seemed twice as far as before.

At a clanking sound, I looked up to find Rykaia at the door of my cell, holding up a key. I hadn’t even heard her approach. “You’re letting me go?”

“Not exactly.” She opened the cell door on a click and waved me out.

Frowning, I pushed to my feet, padding toward her with cautious steps. “What’s going on?”

“A bath. A bath is what’s going on.”

As guilt-ridden as I may have felt accepting food and comfort while tormented by thoughts of my sister, a bath sounded heavenly right then. I followed after her, down a dark corridor and up a stone stairwell that spat us out into yet another corridor, and on into a massive room with ornate stone floors and tapestries that hung from stone walls. A staircase, illuminated by the warm flicker of sconces, led to an upper level.

I’d never been inside a castle before.

In Vonkovya, King Alaric served as the monarch, but was nothing more than a face of tradition. Most of the country was ruled by the Lord of Parliament and his Vonkovyan Army in the capital. A place I’d never visited but had heard was opulent and brimming with modern amenities not found in the rural parts, where I’d lived my whole life. As we made our way through what appeared to be a grand foyer, I caught sight of the towering entry doors to the right of me, not remembering a single moment of having been brought through them when I’d first arrived.

Rykaia led me up the staircase and down another hallway, to a room with a heavy wooden door and black, iron hinges. The moment she pushed it open, a familiar masculine scent hit me, and I glanced around a vast room with beautiful stone archways and gorgeous stained glass. Multiple candelabras flickered from the mantle over a stone hearth, the cozy warmth of which sent a shiver across my bones. Across from it was a black, velvet settee cluttered with books. The biggest, most elaborate bed I’d ever seen stood within an alcove of bowed lancet windows that reached the ceiling, offering a gorgeous view of a vast darkness beyond, where faint white spires in the distance hinted at mountains.

I ran my hand over the ebony wood and black silk sheets, so soft they felt like warm liquid beneath my fingertips. Paintings of ghostly, white animals in dark woods hung about the room. Black armor and leather lay draped over a metal contraption at the foot of the bed, and I frowned, recognizing the garments.

“The bed was a gift from King Sagaerin. All those years of forcing my brother to sleep on a stone floor must’ve left him with a sour conscience,” Rykaia said from behind.

“You brought me to his bedroom …” I retracted my hand, suddenly aware that I was touching the very place where Zevander slept. A prickling suspicion coiled around my thoughts. “Why would you bring me to his bedroom?”

“Because his bathing room is the best in the castle. And, I say, our guests deserve the best.” Smiling, she turned toward a set of double doors twice my height and pushed them open into another dome-ceilinged room with towering stony lancet windows that looked out on the same gorgeous view as the bedroom. An image of ethereal beings adorned the ceiling, like angels, with strange silver markings on their skin that glowed against the backdrop of two bright moons and stars. The enthrallment must’ve been clear on my face, as Rykaia smiled and looked upward.

“The Lunadei. Moon gods.” She knelt beside a stone structure that was as big as my room back in Vonkovya and filled with crystal water, and ran her hand through the surface. “The temperature is perfect.”

I glanced over my shoulder and back. “What if he returns?”

“My brother spends the hours away in his meeting chamber, drinking his liquor and reading.”

“He reads?” I did a poor job of hiding the surprise from my voice.

“Nothing thrilling, believe me. Mostly scrolls on history and glyphs. I’m certain he’s read everything in Eidolon’s library, yet he is forever enraptured in some arcane codex.”

I found that to be an interesting contradiction to the man who’d come off as such a brute.

“So, I will grab a warm towel and some nightclothes. There’s a sponge on the edge of the bath with some sickleberry soap and jasmine oil.” She pointed to where she’d already set out the items for me.

“Why are you doing this?” I mentally chided myself for asking the question. For the unfounded discomfort I felt having someone pamper me that way. Possibly because, aside from my sister, no one had ever gone out of their way to do things for me.

“Why would you ask that?”

I lowered my gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

As if sensing my sudden unease, she clasped her hands together and crossed the room toward a cupboard, grabbing a towel from a folded stack in there. “This place … it can be so heavy at times. It’s nice to have something to care about.”

“I appreciate your kind hospitality.”

“Right, so, I’ll leave you to it.”

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