Page 189 of Eldritch
Panting through his nose, Kazhimyr trailed his gaze over the strange surroundings—the thick rafters overhead, a tiny room with a single wooden chair and small table in the corner. No oversized roots, or tree-bark creatures. Ratty curtains covered the only window, beside which Ravezio stood peering out.
The moment Dravien removed his hand, the scent of woodsmoke and stale ale clogged his nose, and Kazhimyr blew out a shaky breath, his nightmare clinging to his thoughts. Only then did he notice a persistent stinging in his leg that reminded him of those last few seconds. He threw back the blanket to find his lower leg wrapped in white cloth.
Just a nightmare.
“Said she was a redhead.” Ravezio spoke low, as he stared down at something through the window.
“I don’t know any redheads,” Dravien said, rubbing his hand over his jaw.
“What’s going on?” Again, Kazhimyr looked around, searching for some shred of familiarity. The last thing he remembered was staring out over a vast stretch of ice afterthey’d been attacked by the Syrenians. “Where in seven hells are we?”
“A tavern in Veneficarys. You suffered a bite.” Ravezio nodded toward Dravien. “This one managed to keep you breathing. Didn’t think you were going to make it.”
Kazhimyr groaned. Twice, the cockwart had saved his life, which meant no matter how much he loathed the bastard, Kazhimyr had no choice but to be grateful for him. He’d have acknowledged the Elvyniran’s efforts, but Dravien’s gaze remained anchored toward the window.
“They’re still out there?” Dravien asked, brows pulled tight while he scratched at his chin.
“Who?” Confused, Kazhimyr pushed himself to a sitting position, expelling a dry cough that had him scanning the room for any sign of water.
“Solassion soldiers,” Ravezio answered, and as if he’d read his mind, he swiped up a pitcher of water and a glass from a table on his other side, and carried them over.
Kazhimyr poured a glass and, with a shaky hand, gulped it back, grateful for the cool liquid that slipped down his scorching throat. “Solassion soldiers here?”
“Yes. General Loyce and about a half-dozen soldiers, without their banners, or heraldry. Trying not to be noticed. Worked, too, because I didn’t even realize until he said something.” Ravezio nodded toward Dravien, who scratched at his face, digging his nails into his skin.
“Where are they staying?” The quiet gurgling in Kazhimyr’s stomach had him wondering when he’d last eaten. A damned week, it seemed, the way the hunger clawed at him.
Dravien remained staring off. Likely imagining all of the horrible things she’d subject him to, if she got her hands on him.
“She has a room here at the tavern, but we haven’t seen her come, or go. There’s another Bellatryx with her.”
Kazhimyr pressed the heel of his hand to his stomach to stifle the churning there. “Don’t you find it a little odd that she isn’t traveling with King Jeret, seeing as he kidnapped the prince?”
“I suspected she might’ve stayed behind,” Dravien finally answered, his voice flat and heavy with whatever thoughts spun inside his head. “Rallied a counterattack against King Sagaerin. Maybe seized one of the surrounding towns, but I overheard locals saying they were looking for someone who’d fled.”
Hand resting against the pommel of the dagger at his hip, Ravezio chuckled. “Had Dravien’s asshole puckering for a minute there. Thought she’d come for him.”
“She isn’t after you?”
Dravien shrugged. “Perhaps she is, but how would she have known I’d end up here? She ordered me south after Dolion.” Dravien scratched harder at his chin, leaving an angry streak of red there. “Locals mentioned a redhead named Melantha. Might’ve been a witness to the kidnapping. Or maybe she knows something.”
Melantha?The name didn’t strike Kazhimyr as familiar. “So, what’s the plan?”
“It’s gonna be a couple more days before you can travel afoot with that wound.” Dravien nodded toward his legs. “We’ll stay here. If they’re here to rally an attack, I don’t think they’ll get much support against King Sagaerin, so I suspect they won’t stay long.”
“What makes you say that?”
Dravien lifted his gaze to Ravezio. “Tell me, what is one thing you noticed about Veneficarys?”
Ravezio shrugged and sipped an amber fluid—ale, no doubt. “Streets are clean.”
“Not a single spindling child. Why do you think that is?”
“You’re implying King Sagaerin is supplying the city with vivicantem?” Kazhimyr poured himself another glass of water in hopes of drowning his hunger.
“Whywouldn’the?” Ravezio sneered. “Starves his own people to feed his allies.”
Dravien pushed to his feet and quietly strode toward the window, keeping himself pressed to the wall. “The villagers have been watchful and wary of the Solassions from the moment they arrived. Wary of us, too, though they seem distracted for now. Give the general a couple days to find this woman. Your leg will heal, and we’ll head to Hagsmist. They should be well on their way back to Solassios by then.”
