Page 193 of Eldritch
“That talk?” Aleysia snorted. “Father if you only knew. The reason I was banished to the woods was for?—”
“Kissing Joseph Marowe. Yes, we know.” Lips flat, I gave a subtle shake of my head, knowing damn well Father would’ve persecuted her for admitting to being pregnant with Uncle Riftyn’s child.
“Joseph Marowe?” Father scratched at his face. “Albert’s son?”
Aleysia seemed to chew on the thought for a moment, before she turned to Father, smiling. “Yes, Father. Joseph Marowe. Albert’s son. Who’s probably long dead now.”
“What did Sacton Crain mean byincestuous?” he prodded.
“Oh you know how he likes to throw out accusations. He called you a heretic, and you are perhaps the most devout man I know. To a fault.”
Father frowned and nodded. “True. He was a terrible Sacton.”
A twinge of guilt needled me, but I thought back to Zevander’s words while we were training about not always needing to be empathetic. Sacton Crain had murdered my mother, after all. If nothing else, his death served as atonement for hers. I jerked my head. “C’mon, let’s go pack some things.”
The three of us exited the library into a short corridor that led toward the temple’s main chapel.
“Are you certain about this one, Maevyth?” Father asked, as we crossed through the temple. “Your…companion. I feel like he’s hiding something.”
“You’ve gleaned that after a whole evening with the man, Father?” Aleysia chuckled. “Not that I’m defending him, mind you. While I will give him credit for the incredible entrance yesterday, the fact is, his timing was a bit off if you ask me. Andif he hadn’t run off in the first place, we wouldn’t have gotten swiped up by Sacton Crain.”
I slowed my pace, frowning after her. “You are the reason we were in that undercroft.”
“Yes, and good thing, too,” she spat over her shoulder. “Father would’ve starved to death down there, and we’d have never known.”
“We are arguing in circles here.”
“You’re arguing. I’m merely clarifying.”
I growled in frustration. “To answer your question, Father, yes. I trust him.”
“I should hope so. This journey will be long and fraught with dangers, as it is.”
CHAPTER SIXTY
ZEVANDER
Eyes anchored on the stocky man ahead of him, Zevander clutched a torch in his hand as he followed after Corwin, down the staircase to the temple’s undercroft. On occasion, the mortal would glance over his shoulder, wearing a sheepish smile, but in doing so, his bumbling feet nearly cost him his balance. Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, Corwin turned in the direction Zevander had gone the night before, when he’d trapped the entire village in the tomb with his scorpions.
Corwin unwittingly made his way down the dimly-lit passageway, until something squelched beneath his boot and he came to a stop. “What in heavens …”
A smile toyed at the corners of Zevander’s lips as he watched him examine the trail of liquefied organs.
Corwin ran his finger over the streaked blood and raised it to the torchlight. “It seems something was…injured.” He twisted around, undoubtedly realizing that the trail he’d failed to notice at first stretched all the way from the staircase to the long, dark path ahead of them. “Something was …”
“Yes?” Zevander prodded, amused by the dawning realization on the other man’s face.
“Not sure.” He cleared his throat and hastily wiped the blood on his pants. “Shall we keep on?” Spinning on his heel, he ventured deeper down the passageway, only glancing occasionally back at Zevander, though his nervous smile had hardened into a look of concern.
Good.
“So, have you known Maeve for long?” he asked, a slight tremor in his voice.
Zevander bristled at the diminutive. “A while.”
“We’ve been friends for years.” It didn’t require much instinct to know he was lying. “She was always so sweet. A nice, sweet girl.”
Zevander could sense the nervous vibrations in the air, and while he had no ill intentions, it stirred something predatory in him.
