Page 185 of Anathema

“I did see her. But I don’t know her fate.”

“And what is the Magestroli’s plan?”

Again, his gaze fell on Maevyth, and he let out a shaky breath.

“Keep your eyes off her,” Zevander warned again, and the mage’s eyes snapped back to his. “Answer the question.”

“To destroy Cadavros and strengthen the Umbravale.” The only way to accomplish such a thing was securing the septomir.

“You wanted her to recognize you. What made you think she’d come tonight?”

For the third time, the mage’s gaze fell on Maevyth and lingered there too long for Zevander’s taste. His rage quickened, and he flipped the knife in his hand, holding the blade to Anatolis’s eyeball. “One more time.” Fingers pressed into his socket, he pinned the man’s eyelid open, watching his pupils dilate with fear. “Look at her one more time, and from this night forward, the only thing you’ll be staring at is the endless, black void of remorse.” His muscles shook as he delivered the threat, and though it wasn’t like him to lose his composure, something in Anatolis’s gaze had troubled Zevander from the moment he’d first noticed him watching her.

“I wasn’t certain, at all. I didn’t believe she’d actually crossed before tonight.”

“But you knew when she arrived here.”

The mage clamped his eyes, breathing hard through his nose, the sickly pallor of his skin turning whiter by the second. “Your sister …. They set her up.”

A frenzied rage vibrated through Zevander’s muscles, the urge to slice out his tongue taunting him. “How?”

“The names. There is no Lady Anadara or Sivarekis. They knew Rykaia could read minds.”

Meaning, the guards had informed them the moment Rykaia had spoken the names.

“Why didn’t the king kill Cadavros?”

Anatolis’s eyes watered as he shook his head. He flinched and let out a gut-wrenching scream behind Zevander’s palm. His body shook, convulsing with agony. The screaming continued, and Zevander clamped his mouth harder.

“Tell me, and it will stop!” he growled.

It didn’t, though. Zevander drew back his scorpion that crawled out of the mage’s robe, and still, Anatolis screamed. Eyes rolled back into his head, he collapsed to his knees. A red, gelatinous chunk stuck out of his mouth as he gagged, and it poured out, landing on the ground.

On a gasp, Maevyth jumped back.

Another meaty chunk followed the first, splatting across the wet stones.

Organs. Something was attacking his organs. A spell to keep him from talking.

Anatolis collapsed to the ground face first, blood oozing past his lips.

“The scorpion killed him?” Maevyth’s voice held a shaky panic.

“No. But no matter. I planned to kill him, anyway.” Zevander knelt beside the mage and rifled through his pocket for the powdered vivicantem.

A thunderous pounding echoed in the distance, and he froze, swinging his gaze toward the clamor.

He grabbed Maevyth’s hand, leading her back to the front of the castle, where Imperial Guards rushed toward the gates. Flames hurled over the stony barrier, catching on the tents and straw scattered about the courtyard.

“The villagers!” one of the guards shouted. “They’re attacking!”

The uprising.

“What is it? What’s going on?” Maevyth said, and Zevander glanced back to see bodies scurrying around her, as she raised her hands to shield herself from their armor and jostling weapons. Solassion soldiers alongside The Imperial Guard headed toward the gate, while guests of The Becoming rushed into the castle for cover.

A chaotic bustling of the crowd.

Zevander scooped her up into his arms and carried her into the castle that’d grown crowded with guests pouring in from the courtyard. While she clung to his neck, he scanned for Rykaia and Torryn, finding them barricaded in the corner.

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