Page 72 of Eldritch (The Eating Woods #2)

She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Not really. It’s peculiar, I can hear Grandfather Bronwick’s voice clear as a bell, and he’s been gone far longer than Father.”

Father had disappeared a little over two months before I’d passed through the Umbravale to Aethyria. Had only been presumed dead mere weeks before Aleysia’s banishment to The Eating Woods. But it had been longer than that since we’d seen him last.

“Come,” she said, weaving her arm in mine again and waving me toward the deeper end of the corridor. “Let’s see if we can find something to eat.”

“I need to find Zevander.”

“He seems exceptionally capable of taking care of himself.”

“Were you not the one who worried about him last night?”

Aleysia chuckled. “I told you, I just wanted the bed to myself.” Her brow raised. “Did you fuck him?”

My mouth gaped at her crudeness. “Not that it’s any of your business, but?—”

A cough echoed from down the corridor, and I froze, watching that curious glint shine in her eyes.

“No, I can’t take another life. I won’t.”

“It could be your lover.” She slipped from my arm and, to my utter frustration, scampered down the hallway in the direction of that cough.

“He’s not my …” Groaning, I swiped up her fallen dress and followed after her. “Aleysia! Slow down!”

Instead of slowing her pace, or heading straight, she turned down another passage.

I hastened after her, vowing that I would search for some kind of rope, or leash, to fasten to her. That, or lock her in her room.

The cough echoed through the stony passageway again, and I watched her peer into each cell she passed.

My blood chilled at the sight of the dark emptiness, imagining a time when they’d once been filled with those deemed heretics and witches—myself included. I wrapped my arms around myself, keeping my eyes ahead.

She finally skidded to a halt and stood staring into one of the cells, her jaw open, hands trembling at her side. “Father!”

Wary of what she’d found, I schooled my face to an impassive expression as I approached, studying the way her eyes filled with tears.

When I finally tore my gaze from her, I turned to find an aged man I didn’t recognize behind long, straggly white hair and an overgrown beard.

I’d have thought she’d lost her mind, if not for the fact that he looked too much like Grandfather Bronwick.

I stepped closer, not trusting my own eyes. The letter… my head battled. Signed by the king himself . It’d confirmed his death.

A lie. All of it.

His eyes. Warm, blue eyes that never once looked at me any different than he looked at his own daughter stared curiously at the two of us. His brows pulled together, and it was then I remembered the silver in my eyes and turned away from him.

“It’s just a condition, Father. I’m fine.”

“My…apologies for…staring.”

Through a mist of tears, I took in the scribbles scratched into the walls of his cell. Verses from The Red Book, if memory served me. “Father?” My attention shifted back to him, and his eyes shone with the kind of hope he must’ve abandoned long ago.

His expression broke, the corners of his mouth pulling downward into a look of sadness and guilt. Lip quivering, he opened and closed his mouth, as if he fought for what to say. “My girls,” he rasped.

Father!

Something bloomed inside my chest at the sight of him. It felt as if another broken piece of my life had clicked back into place. The universe had given him back to us.

“Break the lock, Maeve.” The urgency in Aleysia’s voice mirrored my own, as I curled my hand into a fist, glancing at my father.

“He’s probably going to be upset, seeing this.”

“He will have to understand, if he wishes to get out of this damned cell.”

Nodding, I closed my eyes, visualized the bone whip, and felt a weight in my palm when the spine clacked against the floor.

Father’s eyes widened, and he kicked back on the bed until his spine pressed against the wall. “Wh-wh-what is this?”

“Try not interrupt her, Father. She’s not entirely proficient at this part.”

I sailed a glare back at my sister and, noticing the white mist expelling from her lips, handed off her dress to her. “Would you like to give it a try?”

Aleysia chuckled. “Of course not, silly. I was just trying to ease the shock, is all.” She waved me on. “Proceed.”

“Hey!” A voice shouted from behind. “When you get his open, perhaps you might consider this one next.”

Aleysia glanced over her shoulder, and her face soured when she turned back toward me and whispered, “Ignore him.”

“Who?” I asked, and as I turned to look, she cupped my cheek to stop me.

“Father. Focus on Father.”

“Hello?” the stranger asked from behind.

Despite my curiosity, I didn’t bother to turn, but drew back the whip.

First strike bent the lock’s face.

I threw forth my palm for a second strike that sliced a divot in the cell bar.

The third cracked the lock open, and Aleysia rushed forward, yanking it free, as I drew back the whip. As both of us rushed into the cell, the horrific stench of body odor and defecation nearly gagged me.

Father pushed to unsteady feet, his legs unmistakably weak and brittle. “Red God in Heaven, I never thought I’d see the two of you again!” He reached out for the two of us, but Aleysia pressed her palm to his chest.

“Perhaps after a bath.”

He lowered his arms, and gripped his tattered robe. “I must look positively disheveled.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” she muttered, and I shot her a look of disapproval. While Aleysia had never been entirely affectionate towards our father, there was no reason to be outright rude.

I reached for his cold and wrinkled hand, smiling as I gave it a squeeze, and he lifted it to kiss my knuckles, then lowered it with a tender pat.

Glancing around the room, I took in the small bucket next to the bed, the discarded rat hides, and that of a larger animal I couldn’t identify from its remains. I swallowed hard, trying to imagine how he must’ve survived all this time.

“Has someone given you food and water?” I asked.

He glanced back toward the bucket himself. “In the beginning, yes. I was given gruel and water. The meals turned infrequent after a while. I was forced to collect the water that drips into my cell on the occasions it rained.”

Aleysia slapped a hand to her mouth. “In your urine bucket?”

“Aleysia,” I whispered. “Be kind.”

“Well, it’s disgusting that he had to resort to such measures.”

Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to Father. “When were you imprisoned? And by whom?”

“When I returned from Lyveria. I tried to convince Sacton Crain that they should leave the Lyverian people alone.” Gaze lowered, he shook his head. “I made the grave mistake of sharing a vision imparted to me by a priestess I’d encountered there. The end of the world.”

“Decimation.” I recalled the words painted in the nave.

“Yes. I thought for certain I’d have been banished for blasphemy. Branded a heretic. Instead, they threw me in this cell to rot, and I’ve been here ever since.”

“I suspect they left you starving when they fled.”

“Um…if I may…interrupt.” The voice from across the hall drew my attention to a stocky man, round in the belly and soft in the jaw. Despite the long, black, robe-like garment that looked a bit like a dress with its tattered, flared hem, I recognized him from the village.

“Corwin?” A cold hand gripped my arm, and I turned to see Aleysia clutching me.

“Tell me you’re not letting Corwin Grinsgaith out of the cage. He belongs there.”

“I’m letting him out simply because you said that.” I wrenched my arm free.

“Maevyth…his family is from Cruxmere. Port of Pirates ?” The coastal side of Cruxmere was a fishing community comprised of what was rumored to be a bunch of ale-guzzling ruffians and thieves. Sacton Crain had once called it a city of wickedness and sin.

“If you imagine that’s a worthy argument for me, of all people, clearly you’ve forgotten who you’re talking to.” I exited Father’s cell for the corridor.

“Fair enough, but that’s another mouth to feed.”

“I…I actually know where there’s an abundance of food.” Corwin curled his fingers around the bars of his cell. “An entire pantry. Stumbled upon it when I first arrived at the temple.”

“But you’ll not tell until we let you out,” I said in a flat tone.

“Well, that is …. Yeah. No.”

“You see? Not worth the trouble,” Aleysia chimed from behind. “Besides that, he could be dangerous.”

“I promise I’m worth the trouble. Truly, you could eat for a week.

” His smile faded for a pained expression, and he rested his hand against his belly.

“And I’m nothing more than dangerously hungry.

Haven’t eaten in days. Not quite to the rodent consumption stage, but close.

Admittedly.” His brows knitted together.

“Un…canny. Your eyes, they’re so silver.

Beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but uncanny. ”

“Thanks for noticing.” I tugged the lock on his cell, but like the others, it wouldn’t budge. “Tell us where this pantry is, and we’ll bring some food back to you.”

“No.”

“We could find it ourselves,” Aleysia argued.

“You’ll be discovered by the others before you do.”

“Others?” I frowned. “There are others?”

“Nearly the whole village. Or…those Sacton Crain felt worthy of saving.”

“Did you see a man wandering about? Tall, likely wearing a black cloak?”

“Hideous scar on his face?” Quiet steps brought Aleysia to my side, and I elbowed her in the arm. “It’s easily identifiable, is all I was saying.” She rubbed the spot where I’d hit her.

“I was probably asleep.” Corwin sighed. “All I ever do is sleep these days. Dreaming of food.”

“I saw a man like you described.” Father’s hoarse and gravelly voice came from behind. “Thought he was death coming for me at last.”

Finally, a clue. “Did you see where he went?”

He winced and lowered his gaze. “Tried not to look at him. Heard him say he wanted to consume me.”

I recoiled at that. “Consume you? Are you certain?”