Read Online Beastkeeper by Cat Hellisen - Free Book Online Page A

are no servants, or have you forgotten?”
    Sarah twisted round. Her grandmother had left off her cloak of ragged fur, and she seemed somehow smaller, daintier. Perhaps more like the way she had been as a young woman. She was carrying another covered tray, which she set down near their bowls. There was certainly a lot of food for only two people, though Sarah didn’t feel inclined to point this out. Not on her very first night. She thought of her father’s bloodstained teeth as he’d eaten his meat raw. Perhaps this was it—perhaps her family were secretly all monstrous carnivores and she was going to be fed platters of raw meat, lumps of cold flesh sitting in pools of sticky blood. She swallowed miserably.
    Nanna took her seat and nodded at the bowl of soup in front of Sarah. “You may begin,” she said.
    At least soup was normal-person food. Well, normalish . Sarah lifted her round spoon, and gently prodded a floating piece of gristly meat. It bobbed twice, then sank. Sarah’s stomach sank with it. Gingerly, she ladled herself a spoonful and sipped. It wasn’t as bad as she had expected, and she plodded her way through the rest, leaving only an unidentifiable mash of small bones and soggy fat at the bottom of her bowl. There was nothing in the world that would convince her to eat that, she thought.
    â€œHmm,” said Nanna, eyeing the remains. “Picky, are you?”
    â€œI’m just full,” Sarah lied.
    â€œToo bad.” Nanna leaned forward to open the covered dishes for the next course. There were all different kinds of meats simmering in thick juices, and a profusion of aromas curled across the table so that Sarah had to close her eyes and breathe in deeply. Meat, for sure, but cooked meat. “There’s boar and hare and fawn and grouse and goose and lamb and dove.” Her grandmother narrowed her eyes. “And not a bone for you, it seems. Full as you are.”
    The raven cawed in laughter and tipped Sarah’s bowl so that the remnants spread in a gooey puddle over the pitted wood. It lunged forward, pecking out the choice pieces.
    Sarah folded her hands in her lap and kept her head lowered so her grandmother would not see her face go blotchy.
    Nanna ate for a long time, the only sounds the wet sucking of her lips and the brittle clack of bones returned to the plate. Finally, it seemed Nanna had consumed all she could. She pushed her plate a little away from herself and leaned back in her chair.
    Sarah looked up to see her scrape all the leftovers into the largest pot and cover it up. “Come along,” Nanna said as she stood. She lifted the full pot and cradled it with both arms. “I think it’s time you met your grandfather, after all.”
    Sarah’s heart lurched. What was she to expect—an old, bedridden man? An ax-wielding maniac locked up for his own good? The soup sloshed about inside her, making her feel queasy, and Sarah pressed her thumbs hard against her legs, focusing on that until the feeling passed. She wished she were out of this place. Anywhere, it didn’t matter. As long as it was a million miles away from here and now.
    The white raven launched itself up to perch on Nanna’s shoulder and rubbed its beak against her earlobe. “Come along, along, a long way to come,” it chattered. Sarah was now convinced that it was insane. Just like Nanna. And herself, probably.
    The raven and the old woman led the way out of the castle, into the circle of empty night that surrounded the stone building. Perhaps her grandmother was going to lead her off into the forest and just … leave her there, to be eaten by whatever monsters lurked.
    Instead she walked a well-worn track that curved behind the main body of the turret. In the lee of the building was a rough shack, in the same state of disrepair as the rest of the castle, its rotted straw roof ragged and dripping black mold. The smell of loam and earthy