Page 73 of Eldritch (The Eating Woods #2)

“Good heavens,” Aleysia scoffed. “That is grounds for getting as far away from that man as possible.”

I sailed an exasperated frown back at my sister.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Cannibalism, Maeve? Can you fathom kissing a man who gets bits of human skin stuck in his teeth?”

“Enough. He’s not a cannibal.” I turned my attention back to Father. “You’re certain you didn’t see where he went?”

He shook his head. “Thought it’d be less painful if I didn’t acknowledge him there. When I finally dared to turn around, he was gone.”

“I could help you look for him.” Corwin pressed himself closer to the bars. “If you let me out.”

“Why were you locked away to begin with?” It was strange Aleysia would ask such a thing, given the reason was fairly obvious. While the Grinsgaiths were welcomed ale makers in the village, they were still looked upon with suspicion.

Corwin breathed a bitter laugh. “You ask as though Sacton Crain has any reasonable explanation for locking people away.”

Aleysia eyed him up and down. “Given the state of things, he must not have found you very useful.”

Corwin’s brows pinched together. “It so happens I possess a very important skill.”

“Your mother was the ale maker,” she argued, her tone saturated in boredom. “You were a barkeep.”

“What is the end of the world without a proper drink? Miserable, that’s what.”

“We don’t have time for this.” Aleysia waved her hand dismissively. “If there’s food, we should find it and pack some for our travels.”

“Travels?” Corwin laughed the word, as if it were unthinkable. “You’re traveling with those…things out there?”

“Yes,” Aleysia and I both answered in unison.

He shrugged. “Might I tag along?”

“No,” Aleysia answered before me.

“Please. They’ll kill me here. Sacton Crain happens to believe I’m a poisoner, of all things.

” He let out a nervous chuckle, looking me up and down.

“No offense intended. He’s convinced the entire village that the ale they’ve consumed for decades is somehow mind altering.

” He sighed, lifting his robe. “He also didn’t appreciate seeing me in a mourneclote. ”

“What in God’s name is a mourneclote?” Aleysia crossed her arms and tipped her head.

“In Cruxmere, we wear mourneclotes while grieving our dead. I was mourning my dear mother in peace, until those creatures emerged. I didn’t exactly have time to change while a spindly spider was chasing me through the village.

Anyway, in addition to being a poisoner, I was tossed in here for not wearing proper trousers. ”

“Are you wearing a cammyck beneath, as well?”

“Aleysia.” Sighing, I shook my head and peered past him, searching the cell for any sign of a weapon, and found nothing but a bucket, like father’s. “I will set you free, but quickly. I have to find my …. Well, he’s my friend.”

“He’s her lover. With a hideous scar,” she whispered, and again, I elbowed her in the arm.

“Anyway, please don’t make me regret it.”

He shook his head frantically. “I promise, I won’t.

I know Cruxmere is said to be the Port of Pirates, and that is true for some there, but I’m really nothing like them.

In fact, I’m the reason Mother and I moved to Foxglove.

My father considered me a bit weak. Effeminate, I believe he called me.

” His brows pulled together when he lowered his gaze.

“He forced me out of the only home I’ve ever known.

” A mist of tears shined in his eyes. “My mother chose me,” he said, his lips pulling to a somber smile. “So we both fled.”

“Step back,” I warned, and like before, I closed my eyes, summoning the glyph. In one strike, I broke the lock, and Corwin’s eyes lit up.

“It’s true, then,” he said, his voice sketched in awe. “You really are a witch.”

“You’ve got some nerve.” Aleysia waved toward the lock. “Confine him again, Maeve, and let’s move along.”

“No!” Corwin lurched for the cell door. “I meant no insult.” Gripping the bars of his cell, he glanced around as if someone might hear him. “I’ve always sort of admired the witches, if I’m being honest. Oh, but don’t tell Sacton Crain I said that. He’d have me banished, for sure.”

Rolling my eyes, I stepped forward and unshackled the door, letting it open freely. “I’m not a witch. I don’t know what this is, or why it’s happening to me.”

“The priestess would know,” Father said from behind. “She is all-knowing.”

“Yes, well, unless you’re seeing visions of her, she’s not here. You mentioned food, Corwin?” Aleysia corralled him out of the cell and urged him forward. “Show us.”

“I have to find Zevander. I don’t have time to seek out food.”

Aleysia’s shoulders sagged. “For heaven’s sake, Maeve. Don’t you think Zevander would appreciate something to eat when you find him? Please, I cannot pass up the opportunity to eat something. Father needs to eat something,” she said, waving back at him.

“I’ll survive?—”

“Hush, Father, you’re wasting away as we speak.”

I groaned. “Fine. But we need to hurry. I have to find him. He’s not—” I caught myself, but the intrigue in Aleysia’s eyes told me I’d said enough.

“He’s not what ?”

“Forget I said anything.” I stepped past her, refusing to entertain any of her questions. “C’mon, Corwin.”

“Yes, of course.” He scurried up to my side, and I glanced over to see him holding up the hem of his robe, as the two of us made our way down the corridor. “These are such a nuisance when you’re running for your life.”

“Tell me about it.”

“ I t’s almost…there, I’ve got it!” The lock on the door they stood before clicked, and when Aleysia opened it, they found a pantry in which a few dozen shelves stood packed with jars of food. More food than I’d seen in weeks.

“Dear God. You do give a damn about me.” Aleysia pushed to her feet, brushing at her skirts. “Who could’ve imagined?”

“Language, Aleysia,” Father said, stepping inside. “The Red God has provided.”

Frowning, I stepped past him for a jar of peaches. “The Red God would’ve watched us starve to death.” I could feel Father’s stern eyes burning into me from my periphery.

“You’ve lost your faith.”

“She never had it, Father. Nor did I, if we’re confessing our sins now.” Aleysia yanked a jar of meat from the shelf, and my frown deepened as I watched her open the corked top of it.

I lurched toward her, gripping her arm. “What are you doing? That meat is raw. You’ll be sick.”

Aleysia laughed. “This again. The whole world is sick, Maeve. As long as spiders aren’t pouring out of me, what does it matter?

Let it rest.” Yanking her arm free, she resumed opening the jar, and I watched in horror as she devoured the raw meat inside, red juices streaking down her chin.

She let out a moan and tipped her head back, as if it was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted.

Corwin stood alongside me. “Exactly how long has it been since she’s, um…eaten?”

“Certainly not long enough for that.” I uncorked the jar I held and fished out one of the peaches. The moment the sweet flavor hit my tongue, I closed my eyes, briefly taken back to the days when grandfather would share a bowl of fresh peaches and warm honey bread.

I wasn’t there, though.

I was standing in a pantry of food, in the temple’s eerie dungeons, while Zevander remained missing. Scanning the shelves, I grabbed jars of meat, carrots, and apples. “Take a couple of jars, but not too much.”

An unsettling cold palmed the back of my neck, as they scrambled to collect the jars. “Wait.” The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. “We need to go. Now.”

We spun for the door. Two Vonkovyan soldiers stood blocking the way, their weapons trained on us. One of them lunged toward Aleysia and grabbed her arm, yanking her from the pantry.

She screamed, dropping the jars of food onto the floor. “Let me go!” She punched and scratched at him.

The other held his weapon pointed at me, and my eyes flicked to Aleysia and back. “Let her go,” I warned.

In my periphery, Corwin collapsed, and a quick glance downward told me he’d fainted.

The soldier shifted his attention to him.

A sharp breath, and I reached out, my deadly fingers gripping his throat before I could stop myself. The soldier disintegrated into dust.

Eyes wide, the second guard shoved Aleysia back into the pantry with us and slammed the door shut, snuffing out the light.

“No!” I lurched forward, and the lock clicked. The door didn’t even have a handle on our side. “No, no!” I slammed the heel of my palm against the unyielding wood. “Let us out of here! Let us out!”

“Maevyth,” Father said behind me, but I didn’t answer, frantic to open the door. “Maevyth!” His voice held the stern tone I remembered from childhood, and I stilled. “What happened just now?”

“Can you not see we’re locked in a pantry, Father?” Aleysia snipped, before I could answer. “Good grief, months in a cell is no excuse.”

“Careful of your tone, girl. I’m still your father.”

“Who abandoned us,” she argued back.

“I was imprisoned!”

“You abandoned us long before that!”

“Calm yourselves.” I pressed my forehead to the door panel and let out a long breath. “As for what happened, Father, the story is far too long to tell, and I’m too tired. Just know, I’m the same person I’ve always been.”

“Yes, just a little more deadly,” Aleysia added. “And a bit paler, if you ask me.”

“Has anyone checked on Corwin?” The darkness offered no indication of where he’d fallen.

“I’m alright. My head hurts a little, and I think I cut myself on some glass…might’ve eaten some raw meat in my delirium, but I’ll live. I think. Just…no one touch me.”

The door clicked, and frowning, I stepped back.

When it swung open, Sacton Crain and a half-dozen men stood blocking the way. His lips pulled to a repulsed expression. “And so the witch returns.”