Page 81 of Anathema

As much as I wanted to laugh at that, I could only muster a clipped smile.

Another bite of the apple, and she polished off the core, leaving only the tip that still carried the stem.

At that point, I’d have probably eaten the whole thing too, considering my stomach had begun to feel like it was consuming itself.

“Seems Zevander is racking them up these days. Ordinarily, these cells stand empty, aside from the times I’m locked in one.”

“That must be incredibly terrifying and lonely down here.”

“I’m not typically conscious.” She gave a dismissive shrug. “So … the dream. Was it a good one, or a bad one?”

Her question sent me spiraling back to the last few minutes, just before Aleysia had tried to attack me, and I winced at the blackness of her eyes. How soulless she’d looked. “It was no dream. I apparently see the dead.”

“Well, you weren’t seeing much of anything with your eyes still closed, I’m sure.”

I perked up at that. “My eyes were closed?”

“Up until you kicked out at the invisible air monster.” She lifted her booted foot as if to demonstrate.

“Perhaps it was just a dream. An awful dream.” Maybe Aleysia was still alive.

“Gods, what an awful thing that must be … seeing the dead. Are they intact when you see them? I mean, say someone was chopped entirely. Would you be visited by a pile of severed limbs? Or the person as a whole?”

As she asked the question, I found myself silently questioning the state of her mind. “I’ve … never encountered a pile of severed limbs.”

Nodding, she smiled. “Makes sense. How could you have conversations with severed limbs, after all?”

“Did I speak aloud in my dreaming?”

“Yes. You dreamed of your sister.”

I wouldn’t have willingly offered up that detail, as I had no idea what her brother’s intentions were with me. “I need to return to her. She’s in trouble.”

“Pity you found yourself trapped in here. My brother isn’t known for being all that merciful.” Eyes narrowed, she rested her elbows on her knees. “Which begs the question … what are you doing here?”

“I don’t know … I was attacked and woke up on his horse. The last thing I remember before blacking out was an exceptionally …” I hesitated to say for fear of sounding as ridiculous as it was in my head. “Large scorpion.” The croaking howl of a dying animal erupted from the pit of my gut, echoing through the cell like a final war cry, and I threw my arms around my mid-section, cheeks burning. “Forgive me. I’m starving.”

Rykaia chuckled, and the sound of scraping metal alerted me to a tray she dragged from the other side of her. “I brought some food. I hope you don’t mind, but I stole the apple. Took forever for you to wake.” She slid the tray beneath the narrow gap between the bars and the floor, and while I should’ve been more cautious taking food from a complete stranger, the much greater instinct to keep from starving to death wouldn’t allow it.

I shamelessly dove for what looked like a hearty stew, the steam from which gave off a delicious savory scent, and fresh bread.

“You’ll have to remind Zevander to feed you. He seems to forget that living creatures eat. It’s why we don’t have any plants, or animals, aside from the damn drakes that inhabit the grounds.”

“You have drakes?” I said around an ungracious mouthful of food, some of which I accidentally spat, before swallowing it back. One bite warmed my insides, drowning the cold that vibrated my muscles. The savory flavor exploded on my tongue, and my eyes nearly rolled back at the heavenly taste. The thin stews back home had little meat, too much water, and a lot more onions. This was the most delicious meal I’d ever eaten in my life. “Like the lizard dragons without wings?”

“Yes, and they are vicious. Unless you’re Zevander, or one of the other miscreants roaming the grounds.”

“Miscreants?”

“Yes. The men my brother was imprisoned with.”

“Imprisoned?” I gulped back a large bite of stew, nearly choking on the word. Had they broken out and taken me with them?

“Ah, you’re awake!” A masculine voice drew my attention to a dark-skinned man, with white hair and a thick white beard, peeking in from outside the opposite end of my cell.

“And so are you,” Rykaia said with little enthusiasm. “I thought it’d gotten rather quiet in here.”

He dropped his gaze and cleared his throat. “My apologies for the snoring. It’s an aging thing.”

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