Anathema (The Eating Woods, #1)

by Keri Lake

Sablefyre. An ancient element of the gods, forged eons ago in Aethyria’s fiery heart. A single touch could turn a body to ash, and blood to stone.

His appearance was the result of having performed the Emberforge ritual on himself, the same ritual he intended for her son. A rite that only young children were believed to tolerate without any permanent disfigurement, seeing as they hadn’t yet gone through their Ascendency.

once the black flame entered the body, it destroyed all natural blood magic.

He reached for Zevander, running his finger over the marking on his chest, a curious black swirl that’d seemed to anger Cadavros. On closer examination, there seemed to be words written in ancient Primyrian embedded in the swirl in a way that reminded Lady Rydainn of a wax seal across his heart. Branimir’s lips twisted to a snarl as he whispered the words that stabbed her conscience. “Il captris nith reviris.” What is taken will never return

I was no more than a few days old when I’d been found abandoned before that cursed arch in a wicker basket, a single black rose upon my chest. No one knew who’d left me there, but every villager speculated that, whoever they were, they must have hoped the woods would eat me, as well.

Emotions I was forced to keep hidden for fear of looking possessed by evil, as girls were often perceived when they felt too much.

I’d learned at too early an age that the sound of a girl’s scream drew nothing more than apathy.

Until that moment, I’d never killed a living thing with my own hands. What a terrible burden to watch something die.

The men of our parish believed the birds to be an omen of death. They believed the same of me, too, so maybe I shared a kinship with the foreboding creatures.

“I swear, if she were to get a good fucking, just once, she’d be a whole new person.”

How tragic that a woman’s worth equated to the depth of a man’s pockets.

“You’re asking me to venture beyond the boundary, a crime punishable by execution, and retrieve the stone from what has only ever been described as hell.” Zevander rolled his shoulders back. “Of course. I want this fucking fire out of my veins.”

Eyes that had dulled, vacant and lifeless, when he’d returned from Lyveria, laid out on the concrete slab in Uncle Felix’s examination room, with his throat cut open. While a feeling of sorrow had filled my chest, I couldn’t help the envy he’d stirred. What freedom he must’ve felt when he’d closed his eyes and drifted out of that mangled body.

“Go, my Darling, unto that place Where magic still exists Beyond the confines of this cruel world As you will not be missed Instead, I’ll find you in a dream Or a wistful plea on stars Hours of suffering no more redeemed For eternity is ours.”

“I also know that the delicate black rose doesn’t grow well in these parts. Our winters are far too cold for its fragile roots.”

“If my vision is correct, the mortal I sent you after may be the first, or the last, of the Corvikae bloodline. She may carry the blood of the death goddess. And while I may be many things to many people, I am not the vehicle for mortalicide.” Lips pressed to a hard line, he shook his head. “I certainly don’t want to fuck with the daughter of a death goddess.”

I was exhausted and furious. And I still had the guards to contend with. It was then it struck me. I hadn’t heard the guards make a sound.

“How can you be so calm right now?” “I’m not the one he wants to eat.”

Zevander sneered. “What is essentially a mortal, wielding power over me? Not likely.” As soon as he said the words, Zevander damn near choked on them. A mortal had wielded some kind of power over him. And it pissed him off.

The light illuminated a wall of webs, and in the corner crouched Branimir.

“Then, I will beg. If that’s what it takes. I will beg that you take me back.” “Beg all you like.” He let out a sardonic chuckle. “I’d quite like to see you on your knees.”

“I find it interesting that any time a girl is unusual, or dare I say, unique, she’s deemed evil, or cursed.”

Foregoing the berry soap, I lathered the other onto the sponge and washed myself of the grime and dirt I’d collected over the last few days.

“You used my soap.”

His gaze trailed over me, and whatever thoughts passed through his mind had his hands balled into tight fists again.

The thought left me wondering what my wily sister would’ve done, had she found herself in my position. Undoubtedly, she’d have seduced him, and not necessarily for her freedom.

It was then it occurred to him that something else pulsed through his veins, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had him feeling so unsettled. Beyond jealousy. Something deeper. Darker. Possessive. Seeing Branimir lying in her lap had scrambled his thoughts to an irritating muddle of anger and resentment.

“Zevander,” she said, and the sound of his name rolling off her tongue sent a chill down his spine. He turned his head to the side, refusing to let her see the yearning that was damned near beaming in his eyes. How ridiculous he must’ve looked, a man of his strict training and discipline, pining after her like a fucking prepubescent schoolboy. “Goodnight.” “Goodnight, Lunamiszka.” “Do I still annoy you?” she asked. “Endlessly.”

“Moon Witch, you’re calling me. I suppose it would be fitting now that I’ve learned magic. Which, by the way, would be grounds for burning me at the stake, where I come from.” “Mortals fear what they don’t understand.”

“Out of curiosity, what would it mean if I were to control his power?” “It would make your newest glyph quite dangerous. And should the magehood become privy, they would surely see you destroyed for it.” Lips flat, I nodded. “Perfect.”

“Who taught you to sing?” Smiling, I shrugged. “Myself, I suppose. Who taught you to frown?” I asked with an air of amusement.

hehe *kicks feet*

“Everything is poison with the proper dose. Even you.”

“How do you know who your mate is?” “You don’t until you kiss them. Or so I’ve been told.”

“I am angry at you.” The deep timber of his voice rumbled in my ear, and he spun me around, keeping in time with the other couples. “For wearing this dress. For looking so painfully exquisite, you’ve managed to draw everyone’s attention. Including mine.”

“I curse Rykaia for bringing you here. And yet, the thought of never seeing you in this dress is a torment in itself.”

I am being tortured by the slow burn and I’m LOVING EVER MINUTE OF IT