Page 97 of Anathema

With that, he exited my cell, locking the door as before.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

ZEVANDER

Muscles wound tight, Zevander ground his teeth and made his way up the stone staircase, brushing his hand across his face again. He snarled when another bit of dried grain flecked off.

On the upper level, he found Dolion staring at a painting on the wall while spooning a bite of his pottage into his mouth.

“I need to speak with you,” Zevander grumbled as he passed. “In my office. Now.”

“Of course.” The sound of his trailing footsteps followed after Zevander, through the Great Hall and up another staircase.

Past the solar room, Zevander led Dolion to an office with a wide Eremician redwood desk, where Rykaia still sat with her feet propped on it. Her lips pulled to a smile when he entered, stirring the ire already pulsing through his blood. “Who pissed in your pottage, Brother?” She chuckled, setting down the book she’d been reading.

A growl rumbled in Zevander’s throat. “Give us the room.”

“Of course. I was on my way to the dungeons to assist Maevyth with a bath.”

He ground his teeth harder at the mention of her name, loathing the way it stirred a deep and pleasurable surge of blood to his cock. “Good. Her scent has become absolutely repulsive.”

Acids shot up into his throat, and Zevander realized the Nilmirth still hadn’t entirely left his system. Palms to his desk, he took a moment to swallow it back, eyes watering from the burn in his nose.

“Everything okay?” Dolion asked, falling into one of the chairs set out before the desk.

“Fine.” Zevander stumbled once on his way to the chair and fell into the already warmed leather seat. “I met with King Sagaerin this afternoon.” He removed his mask, breathing through his nose while the last remnants of acid slipped back down his throat. “It seems the Magelord has a new apprentice. A young woman.”

“Woman? What in the gods …” Dolion looked thoughtful for a moment, lowering his bowl to his lap. “Did you catch her name?”

“Melantha.”

A contemplative look crossed Dolion’s face, and he shook his head. “I’m not familiar with her. This is quite strange.”

“Well, she is determined to prove that you’re alive. And she apparently reads auras, as well.”

He winced, catching onto the implication. “She detected the Corvikae.”

“Yes, and I entertained quite a few of her inquiries,” Zevander gritted.

Eyes wide, Dolion rested a hand against his chest. “Nilmirth?”

“I told them nothing.”

“Nothing? Do you have some sort of an immunity to Nilmirth?” The mage chuckled with an air of disbelief.

“A tolerance.”

“My gods … I didn't think that was possible. How?”

“That’s unimportant. I learned something today that has me wondering if it may be the root of these visions you’ve been having.” Zevander eased back into his chair. “King Sagaerin made me privy to an amulet he wears. Crafted by Cadavros. Should anything happen to Prince Dorjan, it will unleash a deadly plague on Nyxteros.”

“You saw this amulet?” Before Zevander could answer, Dolion leaned forward, eyes brimming with intrigue. “What did it look like?”

“Black with a black chain and a spider etched into its surface. Dragon’s claw to seal it.”

“A soulbinder.” Brows pinched together, he stroked his long, white beard. “It can’t be, though … I … saw Cadavros in this vision. Clearly. He sat on the throne!”

“Perhaps your vision is a bit more abstract.”

---