Page 94 of Where Darkness Dwells

The sola bones lighting the scene nauseate me. I keep my eyes downward, scanning the faces, the stalls, everywhere I can possibly see, for one particular person. Belwyn is nowhere in sight.

My eyes fall on the fanum at the north end. More offerings crowd the steps than I have ever witnessed before, and the doors are open. People move in and out of it, their faces full of pious sobriety.

What has happened to my city? I’d like to think it has changed for the better, but I know it hasn’t.

“Amyrah, give me a hand with this, would you?”

My father’s voice summons me from my fretting. I rush over, catch the other end of the giant sack, and help him heave it to the cart. We load three more, and I dust off my hands on my dress as Father gets the heavy load rolling.

“What other business did you want to attend to?” he asks between puffs.

I look down at the basket of eggs, recalling how I don’t have anyone to trade with now that Orlagh stays in Ellithïm.

“Nothing,” I say, feeling foolish.

We push on as the valefolk shift around us. Their mood is so vibrant that I feel more keenly than ever how I do not belong.

The cart stops. My father stands stock still, face to face with a man I’ve never seen before, yet who stirs up ghostly memories. A girl close to my own age, with a wine-colored dress and blond hair that must have taken ages to arrange, hangs off his arm. She tilts her chin in challenge at everyone who dares to stare.

“Téron.” The man nods.

My father’s shoulders inch upward. “Myrzeth,” he growls.

“It’s actually Foremost now.” He smirks at the girl. I’m certain she must be half his age.

“Forgive me if I don’t congratulate you.”

The girl’s gaze travels lazily away from my father, toward me. She looks me up and down, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s exactly the kind of petty answer I expected from you, although I must say I had hoped you would’ve grown out of it.” He leans his head as the girl whispers in his ear, then shoots his icy eyes to mine.

“And who do you have with you today?” Moving past my father, Myrzeth plants himself in front of me. Something like a fist clamps around my heart. “Could this be ... of course. Little Amyrah.”

The girl snickers. An unbecoming sound for such a pretty face.

“Don’t say your father has not told you who I am.”

I almost believe his look of surprise.

My father’s livid features prove the man treads on dangerous ground.

“He has not,” I answer, holding my head higher.

Myrzeth tilts his chin, and a smile tugs on his mouth. “I see you inherited my sister’s spirit.”

All the air is knocked from my lungs. My mouth falls open, and I struggle to form words. “You’re my ... my—”

“Uncle.” A playful smile tugs at his lips. “You don’t remember me at all?”

I frown, struggling to make a memory surface. His fair looks are cloying, churning my stomach as only something foul can. “Not a bit.”

He makes a crestfallen face. “How sad. You and I had a particularly special bond.”

“That’s a lie, Myrzeth.” Father takes one step closer. “She saw right through you, even at a young age.”

The girl clings to my uncle’s arm protectively, staring at me.

“Well,” he says, holding out his arms in a gesture of defeat, “you can’t blame me for trying.” He strides forward. “You might not look much like your mother, but I’m curious to know what other attributes she may have passed down to you.”

---