Page 108 of Eldritch (The Eating Woods #2)

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

MAEVYTH

T he black feathers at the neckline of Aleysia’s dress bounced around her, as she danced alongside an enormous pyre.

Two warriors from the village had taken an interest in her—both of them performing what I’d come to understand was a ritualistic dance, akin to two peacocks vying for her attention.

Both clanked bones in their hands and wore headdresses made of black feathers.

“They’re best friends.” A woman who must’ve been only slightly older than me scooted closer, as I glanced around in search of Zevander.

While he’d agreed to stay back for the evening, I didn’t imagine he’d actually keep his distance the entire night, and I fully expected that he was lurking somewhere unseen.

“Whichever one she doesn’t choose will protect her and watch over her, as if she had,” the woman kept on, drawing my attention back to my sister.

I chuckled, watching her weave between the two men, holding her cup in the air. “I don’t think Aleysia is looking to choose a partner. I think she may just be a little tipsy from her drink.”

“The mortelias dance is a rite of passage. An aphrodisiac,” the Lyverian woman said, rubbing her round belly. “I was with child soon after my mate performed.”

I looked back to Aleysia again, imagining her mated to one of their warriors. Happy, as she was right then. Was it possible?

Behind her, Father sat with Erithanya and Corwin. All three of them donned in feathers, laughing and drinking in merriment. I closed my eyes, imagining their lives here, without me.

“Vasmora,” a feminine voice said, and I opened my eyes to find an older woman kneeling in front of me, holding a black rose with silver tips, just like the one I’d seen back in Aethyria.

She placed it on the ground in front of me, along with a loaf of bread.

Clasping her hands, she bowed her head and gingerly brushed what looked like a small bone fragment against my arm.

The woman beside me leaned in. “A gift of gratitude for Vasmora.”

“Thank you.” I smiled at the older woman, and as she rose to her feet, another knelt before me—that one younger.

She laid a knitted blanket and honeysticks on the ground beside the loaf of bread and flower. “Vasmora,” she said, bowing her head like the other and brushing the smooth edge of a bone over my arm.

Again, I offered my thanks with a smile.

Warmth filled my cheeks as I quickly looked away.

All my life, I’d been shunned, spat on, ridiculed for what I was.

An entire village had once looked down on me, but tonight, they knelt.

As I trailed my gaze over the surrounding faces, I found myself humbled by their show of reverence.

My throat tightened, and I reached for my drink with a slight tremor in my hand, burying my discomfort in another sip of wine.

A tall, sturdy man, muscular in stature, lowered to one knee before me and bowed his head. “Vasmora. I would be honored to give you my seed.”

A spray of wine shot out of me, and the woman beside me let out a quiet chuckle as I dragged the back of my hand across my face, remorseful for the errant drops that covered his.

A small smile pulled at his lips as he subtly wiped it away. “I would be incredibly grateful to share a bed with you. To fill your belly with child?—”

“Wait,” I interrupted and cleared my throat. While I didn’t wish to insult him, I had no intention of entertaining his offer. “Thank you,” I said, wearing a sheepish smile.

Brows pulled tight, he gave a nod and, like the others, brushed a small fragment of bone against my arm. As he rose to his feet, he squeezed the bulge between thighs and strode off.

“He is our greatest hunter. Every woman in the village has sought him.” The woman beside me sighed. “I did once.”

“I mean no insult. I’m… mated to another.” As many times as I attempted to acclimate to the word, it still struggled to pass my lips.

“I understand. The warrior who arrived with you. Were I not already bonded to another, I would want to mate with him, as well.” Her comment left me struggling to smile. “Our priestess has assured us that our bloodline will one day be restored. No matter what you choose.”

I was relieved to know that she was suggesting a choice in the matter. I’d fought betrothal before, and I would certainly do it again.

So lost in my thoughts, I didn’t immediately notice Father hobbling his way toward me, until he plopped down on the ground at my side.

The rosy color of his cheeks told me he might’ve had a tad too much wine.

“You seem to have gained much admiration tonight,” he said, waving toward the gifts.

“I’ll admit, I’m not entirely accustomed to this.”

The smile on his face faded, and he stared down into the cup of wine he held against his thigh. “I’m sorry, Maeve. I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job of protecting you from the others.”

My skin prickled with a discomforting chill, as, once again, I swam through a foreign sensation. “Father, you don’t?—”

He patted my shoulder. “Please, allow me to finish. I’ve spent endless hours in that cell, imagining what I’d say to you if I ever saw you again.

” His eyes held a shine of tears that had me blinking away my own.

“I thought that becoming one of the Red Men would earn us favor in Sacton Crain’s eyes, but it seems he tormented you regardless. ”

“It isn’t your fault. He was a cruel man.”

Father nodded, a slight smile on his lips.

“I always liked to think, perhaps there are circumstances that made us the way we are. What a cruel god to willingly inflict such torment.” It was strange, hearing Father speak that way about The Red God and I wondered if the wine influenced his thoughts.

“For centuries, we’ve condemned Lyverians for their worship of Morsana.

We tried to change them, convert them. We feared what they embraced.

And yet, Caedes, The Red God, incited bloodshed and war.

” Staring off, Father shook his head. “In the end, we were all worshipping death to some degree, only they were far less violent.”

The two of us stared off toward Aleysia, who was still laughing and dancing amongst the other women who’d joined her.

“You were treated as an aberration. The seed of blight.”

I turned to see his jaw quivering as if he fought to hold back tears.

“You were just a child. A child who sought nothing more than love.”

His words, as painful as they were for me to hear, fed my starving heart, and tears broke from my eyes, slipping down my cheeks.

Arms wrapped around me, and I rested my head against his shoulder, surrendering myself to the acknowledgment, the validation and acceptance I’d fought so many years to grasp.

Through tears, I caught Aleysia slowing her steps, but seeming to catch sight of us, she smiled and gave a knowing nod, then resumed her dancing.

“This Zevander…do you love him?” The serious tone of Father’s voice failed to hide the lingering emotion in it.

Smiling, I sat upright. “I do.” Strange, how easily I could admit to that at last. “I feel like I’ve loved him all my life.”

Father nodded. “I felt that with Aleysia’s mother, as well. Her death felt like my own.” He lifted his cup for another sip of wine, but hesitated. “You long to return to wherever he came from.”

My chest tightened, not yet having considered how to broach the topic with him and Aleysia. “Well, I …. I’m not sure?—”

“You love him, though. You’re certain about that?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you feel safe with him? Comforted and happy?”

“I do, yes.”

“Then, you should go.”

“You and Aleysia can’t cross the…boundary to where he lives.” Considering he seemed to struggle with the acceptance and possibility of another world, I remained careful with my words. “To go with him, I’d be leaving you behind.”

“This is our world, Maevyth.” Surely, it must’ve been the alcohol talking. “It’s the only one we’ve ever known.”

“I didn’t think you believed in other worlds.”

“I didn’t.” His brows pulled together as he stared off.

“But nothing of this world could’ve fought those creatures back at the church.

And we lived. Because of him. Because of you and your…

abilities. We defied evil.” He raised his wine and tipped back a sip.

“From the time you came into our family, I worried that our world, our hatred of others, would destroy you. I’m proud to be your father.

And I’m glad The Red God chose our family to raise you.

I want you to go where your heart leads you. Aleysia and I will be just fine.”

Through more tears, I glanced up to see her resting her head against a Lyverian man’s chest, as she slowly swayed with him. “Will the two of you be safe here?”

“Far safer than Foxglove ever was. The Lyverians are far more accepting than we are. I betrayed their priestess, told Moros where to find the vivicantem. It resulted in the slaughter of her people, and still, they’ve accepted us.

Tended to our wounds. She has forgiven me, in spite of my wretched betrayal. ”

“You are good, Father.”

“I want to be. Which is why I’m urging you to lead with your heart. Promise me you will.”

“I promise.”

From across the pyre, the priestess stared back at us.

“The somnial, is this similar to our solstice celebration?” I asked.

“In some ways yes. The somnial pays homage to the gods. It’s become exceptionally important for the Lyverians in recent years. They believe their inability to rise from death is their penance. Your presence gives them hope.”

“I’m not interested in birthing an entire generation. I’m not meant to be a vessel.”

“Perhaps not. Or perhaps Morsana has chosen another fate for you.”

As though privy to our conversation, the priestess rose to her feet and waved her hand toward me. “It is time we seek the vein and learn what blessings, or curses, our future holds.”