Page 8 of Eldritch (The Eating Woods #2)

CHAPTER FOUR

ZEVANDER

Past …

Z evander had never seen King Sagaerin’s throne room before that day. While he’d spent time at the palace as a younger child, the throne room had always been reserved for business that had never concerned him, up until that moment.

Hands bound in shackles, he stepped cautiously along the long stretch of black tiles.

Veined in silver, they held carvings of a cosmic map in which the moon cycles and various stars gleamed a ghostly white.

Blackened moonstone pillars reached toward the domed ceiling, carved with faces he’d been taught to recognize—the Lunadei—that appeared as though they were crawling right out of the stone.

Lunar glyphs that represented the various royal families whose bloodlines were said to have descended from the gods had been carved above and below the eerie faces.

Tall lancet windows at either side of him held paintings of the moon cycles, while others depicted each member of the Lunadei, with their pale, white skin and elaborate, blue and silver robes.

It must’ve taken centuries for the artisans to complete.

Lord Belthane, King Sagaerin’s advisor, stood alongside a throne that was absent of the king. Flanked by a half-dozen guards, his expression twisted to an unwelcome scowl, as Zevander and his father came to a halt alongside Lady Rydainn, who’d undoubtedly arrived to plead for the king’s mercy.

The pursed-lipped frown she wore, directed at Zevander’s father, assured there’d be an argument later. When her eyes fell on Zevander, they softened with kindness, as usual, and she lurched toward her son, but stopped when a guard grabbed her arm.

Zevander’s muscles tensed.

“Do not approach the prisoners,” the guard barked in a gruff voice.

“That prisoner is my son.” She turned to Lord Belthane, eyes blazing with indignity. “I requested an audience with the king. For a longtime friend of the royal family, surely you could make accommodations.”

Lord Belthane adjusted the sleeve of his long, velvet robe and plucked off a bit of lint, casually tossing it away. “The king is exhausted and resting. He’s sent me to preside over these matters.”

Lady Rydainn rolled her shoulders back. “Very well. I am asking His Grace to pardon both my husband and son.”

“It is my understanding your family consorted with Cadavros prior to his execution. What was the nature of this bargain?”

“He offered protection from the Solassions in exchange for a sampling of my son’s magic, which he explained was meant for academic purposes.”

“And were you aware of the dark nature of his studies?”

“I was?—”

Belthane raised his hand, cutting off her words. “I’ll caution you, Lady Rydainn. Friend or not, lies will not be tolerated, particularly when spoken to my face.”

She gave a slight bow of her head. “I had heard rumors.”

“And you proceeded to strike a bargain with him, knowing that demutomancy was outlawed by the very king whose throne you stand before, pleading for mercy?”

“We were desperate?—”

Belthane’s face twisted with sudden scorn. “You broke the law! The king’s law! A protection he instituted, to avoid whatever it is that now grows on your son’s face!”

“I’m begging your forgiveness.” Lifting the hems of her skirts, she knelt to the floor before him. “Spare them, and I vow I shall never ask for any favor, or pardon, from this court again.”

“Perhaps you’re unaware of the infamy of your husband’s crimes.

” The accusation had both Lady Rydainn and Zevander turning to see a look of worry twisting the elder Lord Rydainn’s brows.

“The dragoniron mined in Draconysia, the very element used to forge our weapons for defense, must be transported through the Australius Channel, unless we’re willing to contend with the ever-hostile dragons that nest there.

That channel belongs to the Solassions, who have vowed to deny us passage if your husband and son are not turned over to them at once. ”

“What?” Lady Rydainn exchanged a worrying look with her son. “They …. They would do such a thing for mere thievery?”

“Thievery?” Lord Belthane’s lips curled in contempt and his eyes narrowed on her. “No. Your beloved husband committed treachery when he?—”

“Please, My Lord …” Zevander’s father bowed his head and let out a quiet whimper. “I committed no treachery, and you know it.”

“Interrupt me again, and I’ll have your tongue removed where you stand.

” He turned his attention back to Zevander’s mother.

“As I was saying, he murdered an innocent Solassion woman. The wife of a shipping magnate by the name of Lord Vanhelm, who happens to have very close ties to the Solassion king.”

Color drained from his mother’s face, the betrayal in her eyes mirroring what Zevander felt right then, as he took in Lord Belthane’s words. “Is this true?”

“Lynara, you don’t understand?—”

Her jaw hardened. “Did you take the life of an innocent woman!”

“I did take her life, yes, but I did not?—”

“Do not speak another word to me!” she snapped, and as much as it hurt Zevander to see his parents quarreling, he couldn’t blame his mother for her anger.

“If not for our children, I’d watch you suffer.

I always thought it strange that I could never read your thoughts.

That you remained behind this impenetrable shield.

I imagined that you were sparing me your grief and guilt over our sons, in some selfless act of mercy.

It turns out, you were hiding your betrayal.

How foolish was I to imagine you capable of anything else? ”

“I beg your forgiveness.” The elder Rydainn fell to his knees. “Please, Lynara.”

Ignoring his pleas, she turned away from him. “Lord Belthane, I ask that you consider a pardon for my son. He has nothing to do with this.”

“Lord Vanhelm has asked that you be turned over, as well, Lady Rydainn. In fact, he insisted on it. A wife for a wife, as I understand. As I could not bring myself to imagine what they would inflict upon you in retaliation, I offered your son in your stead.”

“Please. I insist on joining my husband in his imprisonment. I will take my son’s place and suffer whatever consequences the gods determine.”

“It is already decided. They will depart for Solassios on the morrow. In exchange, our ships may sail freely, and any conflict will be averted.”

“So soon …” Hand to her chest, she let out a sharp exhale. “I cannot sit idle while my son is executed.”

“There will be no execution. For an unreasonable amount of vivicantem and our best wine, King Jeret has agreed to send them to the Cinderbone Mines in lieu of execution.”

Tears sprang to her eyes, her lips quivering as she glanced at Zevander, before quickly looking away, perhaps not wanting him to see the glimmer of fear he’d caught in that single glance. “I thank you for your generosity, My Lord.”

“It is only through the king’s affection for you that your husband and son will live. But make no mistake, they will still suffer.”