Brood of Vipers Read online

  “What do you care? You’ve not even officially joined our house,” Jackal scorns, pointing his finger at Wren’s subtle mask.

  “My loyalty is here.” Wren evades the impending conflict, speaking truthfully as he sees Lynx and her child step out of his tent. I am loyal to that woman and her child because I want to keep them safe, Wolf confesses in his thoughts, letting the veracity of these words color his verbalized lies. “But I worked with the medic in the House of Vultures for a while. He told me about this withdrawal from a naming bond. Headaches, hallucinations, forgetfulness, loss of speech, and eventually complete loss of mind and motor function.” Standing up, Wren walks over to the barrel full of soap water and drops his stew bowl into the foamy suds. “If I were you, Jackal, I’d be making plans just in case what we are seeing is Wolf’s downfall. Because if it is, wouldn’t you be the natural choice to replace him?”

  Wren saunters away before Jackal can speak again, weaving his way through the tents until he stands in front of Lynx. “What are you doing out here, wench?” he demands, winking even as he raises a hand as if to backhand the woman.

  “Please, I just need a moment in the sunlight,” she begs, scanning the tents surrounding them for any signs of eavesdroppers. “I think we are safe,” Lynx whispers, looking up at Wren with a small smile.

  “What’s Jackal doing now?” Wren questions, tilting his head slightly to the left to indicate in which direction Lynx should look.

  “He’s called Coyote and Hyena over to him; they are huddled up and whispering. What did you do?” Lynx wonders, shifting her sleeping child on her hip.

  “It’s amazing how much mistrust one false note can cause.” Wren grins, quickly filling in the details for her and turning his gaze to the House of Piranhas. “Now, I need to speak to Wolf.”

  ***

  All of the Ddraigs stand in the deepest Pith cavern, the strongest ones at the mouth of the opening to protect the baby Ddraigs. Glancing off to my left, I know the Carreglas is close; I can feel its gentle thrum as if it is a part of my heartbeat. Siri and Suryc thunder up to me and Cyrus, carefully scanning over us for any signs of injury. Ekard and Drake aren’t far behind, the crimson dragon’s guttural voice demanding, “What happened up there?”

  “There was an intruder—one of the Vibría,” Cyrus announces, his voice wavering with the depths of his unspoken fears.

  “She didn’t attack us. I think she wanted to help,” I mumble, turning aside from Cyrus’s withering stare.

  “More than likely, she came to see if she could sneak into our lair without being noticed, gathering up any information she could before she was caught,” Cyrus snipes cynically, his hands clenching and unclenching. The wild look I’ve come to associate with his nightmares crosses Cyrus’s eyes. Though he stands before me, I fear he’s lost in his thoughts, fighting the Vibría that tortured him at the House of Vultures.

  “She told us a great deal about her people,” I gently protest, reaching up to squeeze Cyrus’s shoulder, hoping the well-meant gesture will calm his nerves. “She claimed that her people are victims of her king’s greed and cruelty, not soulless killing monsters.” Glancing at Siri, I open my mind to her, replaying our conversation with the Lady Vatusia, carefully omitting the part when she said I should come to Déchets alone to take down the king. “Did you know anything about this?” I question, watching Siri’s eyes darken until they are almost pewter rather than the silver hue I’ve come to love so dearly.

  “Of course not! I’ve never heard such a wild tale about our kinsman over the Devil’s Spine. The better question is, should we believe it?” Siri shifts from one foot to another, lost in thought. Her tail flicks impatiently behind her as she broods. “Cyrus, you were there—did your Asíle abilities pick up any lie in her words?”

  “No,” Cyrus grumbles, clearly annoyed by the admission. “But that doesn’t mean I think we should trust her. What if there are ways to deceive a truth reader that we don’t know about? What did she come here for anyway? To spoon-feed us a sob story about how the king has mistreated her, just to gain some sympathy? Or perhaps to get us to lower our guard, making us an easier target?” Cyrus shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Taking a deep breath, I voice my opinion, knowing it will start an argument. “She gained nothing by coming here, and her story was too detailed, too heartbreakingly personal. You found no deception in her words. So, I think we should cautiously trust her.”

  “Seriously?” Cyrus barks, wiping his hands through his hair as his eyes widen with incredulity. “They are liars and tricksters, Iris! And she said herself that if the king ordered the Vibría to attack, she’d happily kill us all to satisfy him. Does that really sound like someone you can trust?”

  “That’s not quite how she said it,” I mumble, heat flushing my cheeks as my temper flares.

  “It’s close enough,” Cyrus whispers, shaking his head at me. “The Vibría hold no loyalty with their king; they just want him dead. Can you really believe someone like that will suddenly be trustworthy?”

  “Haven’t you asked the same thing of me?” I accuse, turning on Cyrus as hateful words spew from my lips. “You treated me like dirt in the House of Vultures, remember? But now that we have Ddraigs, now that I’ve learned we are supposed to be a couple, I’m—”

  “Don’t,” Cyrus challenges, his voice softening to a lethal rasp, a storm of fury brewing in his eyes. “Don’t compare me with that monster.”

  I swallow the remaining accusations, regretting that I hadn’t kept a better rein on my tongue. “That was unfair of me. I apologize,” I mumble, dropping my gaze to my toes, my arms wrapping around my middle in an effort to comfort myself.

  Cyrus, however, is unwilling to let my insult go without a fight. “I didn’t torture you for pleasure like the Vibría did to me. I didn’t strike you for sport. I didn’t attempt to break your mind or shatter the depths of your soul. Did I? Can you stand there and say that anything I did in the House of Vultures was for any purpose other than protection?”

  “No.” I shiver as if the icy, frigid bite in Cyrus’s words somehow chilled my blood. “Cyrus, I’m really sor—”

  “A better question that I can’t help but wonder about is this: why are you so quick to trust a complete stranger over me?” Cyrus’s hands come up to grip my upper arms, holding me still so I cannot get away from his questions.

  “I—” My mouth opens and shuts helplessly as I struggle for an answer. “I’m worried about the Cadogans’ slow progress with their Ddraigs, and any extra aid—even from an unlikely ally like the Vibría—is welcome.”

  “That’s a partial truth,” Cyrus sighs, his eyes flickering black as his Asíle abilities read the veracity of my claims. My hands grow slick with nervous sweat under the scrutiny of his dark stare, and I wish I had some manner of shielding myself from him. “Your supposed worry over the Cadogans is where the lie lurks. Your real motives are selfish.”

  Shocked by his blunt accusation, I sputter, “What? No! Not at all—”

  “Liar! I see the filth of your deception expelled in the very air you breathe,” Cyrus snarls, his fingers tightening around my arms like a vice. “What aren’t you telling me, Iris?”

  Cyrus’s breath comes in ragged hitches, almost like he’s become a wild beast chasing after its prey. I cower in his presence, longing to hide behind my Ddraig. However, one look at Siri, and I see no sympathy in her expression. She blames me too, siding with Cyrus in this argument, I realize, hurt putting pressure on my chest as if I’ve been physically struck a blow. “Suryc, how do I get him to stop?” I question, turning a helpless, pleading gaze to the black Ddraig beside my Siri.

  “You tell the truth,” Suryc informs, his voice grim and his golden eyes full of sympathy. “It’s the only thing that calms Cyrus down when his truth-reading side takes over. Every lie will agitate him more; every truth soothes and
brings peace.”

  Cyrus growls, his eyes glittering like a starry expanse of the sky at midnight. “You’re not afraid that the Ddraigs and Cadogans are unprotected, are you? I think you worry over Cane. Either you fear that he will hurt you, or you wish you had stayed with him. Tell me now, Iris, which is it?”

  “Of course, I worry about your brother!” I snap, wishing I could crawl away and creep into a crevice in the stones. I hadn’t realized how dependent on privacy and self-sufficiency I am until Cyrus showed he was able to strip me of those luxuries. Having him use his Asíle powers on me is worse than standing naked in front of the entire army we’ve created. The thought of giving voice to my thoughts, baring my soul to Cyrus, smothers me. The way he demands to know what I’m thinking infuriates me. And the combination of these contradicting emotions is lethal, choking me and filling my head with raging words, stifling my will to act and making my blood boil with unspent anger.

  “Finish it, Iris. Why are you worrying over Cane?” Cyrus commands, his fingernails threatening to break skin with every silent second that passes.

  “How can I not worry over Cane? If he finds me, he finds the Ddraigs. And if he has his way, all of us will be dead. Do you want to see that happen?” I grumble, wishing I could just rip my arms out of his grasp without feeling the pain such an action would cause. I nearly bite through my tongue in an effort to keep quiet, but the rest of the truth—the words I hate to even consider—finally escape my lips. “He’s hunting me now, Cyrus. I’m worrying over him because…I’m afraid.”

  A breath escapes my lips as Cyrus nods once, seemingly mollified. “More,” Cyrus utters, and I find I cannot deny him.

  “I don’t want to be the one that brings us down,” I whisper, words pouring out of my mouth almost faster than I can think about them. “I never wanted to be a leader because I was afraid I couldn’t do it. Now, here I am, trying to keep my own head afloat, and all I can do is worry that I’m going to be the reason the Carreglas is found. I’m going to fail, and the Ddraigs will be caught. I’m going to screw up, and Wolf will find me.” Clenching my eyes shut, I swallow hard against the final truth I cannot keep from rising to my tongue. Silently, I wonder if Cyrus’s Asíle abilities allow him to pry the truth out of an unwilling speaker’s thoughts as I hear my voice say, “I keep turning to you, Cyrus, and that scares me. I’m afraid I’m growing dependent.”

  The air, so full of tension and hostility, grows stale around us. Feeling vulnerable, I turn my face away from Cyrus’s scrutiny. After a time, Cyrus’s breathing slows, and he returns to his normal self. Easing closer to me, his hands brush my shoulders gently as he whispers. “And your feelings toward my brother? Don’t you harbor any love for him?”

  I shake my head, too raw and emotionally spent to trust my voice. Traitor tears slip down my cheeks as I remember the coldness, the unbridled lunacy I saw in Cane’s eyes at the House of Piranhas. I never loved Cane, I remind myself sadly, wondering not for the first time if I am capable of romantic love at all. I never cared for him as strongly as he cared for me. But now I know Cane sold our people as slaves. How could Cyrus possibly think I still feel anything for a brute like that?

  Love makes a man do crazy things. Siri’s voice slips into my mind, her tone full of wistful amusement. The thought of you loving another man is filling Cyrus with so much jealousy, I fear he will lose himself to madness. I know you don’t want to hear it now, but you and he must complete the coupling, Iris—

  I mentally shove Siri’s presence out of my head as hard as I possibly can. Glancing over at my Ddraig, I see her exasperated expression, smoke roiling from her nostrils as she huffs and creeps over to the farthest corner of the cavern.

  Cyrus slips his hands up to cup my face, his nose brushing mine as his voice hitches, his eyes soft and full of wistful sadness as he explains, “Dependence upon another person isn’t wrong, but it doesn’t necessarily mean you love that person either. You can depend upon someone you despise. I don’t want us to be in a toxic relationship.”

  “Nor do I, Cyrus,” I mutter, using his shock to extricate myself from his proximity just to get a breath of unshared air to steady my nerves. “I’m still not ready to discuss us in any kind of relationship at all.”

  Cyrus chuckles a bitter, frustrated sound. Turning my head, I see him observing my rigid, crossed arms, and when he speaks, his words give me gooseflesh. “I know the truths that you dare not whisper. I can see your true feelings. Fight it all you wish, Iris. Your actions will change nothing.”

  “I thought I was the one that could see the future,” I quip, my shoulders taut with tension as Cyrus stalks close once more.

  “But I know that you are meant for me,” Cyrus’s replies, stopping when his toes almost step on mine. He lifts one finger up to my face, tracing my jawline and smiling when I shiver. “You don’t want to admit it—you don’t even want to feel it, but you are softening toward me. And that gives me hope.” Cyrus steps away from me then, sauntering a few paces toward his Ddraig, whistling as he leaves. “I can wait a little longer.”

  Itching to move, I jump from my perch in the cavern, trotting as far in the opposite direction of Cyrus as I can get. In the deepest corners of the cavern, Anemone sits with her tail curled under her chin, babysitting the young Ddraigs as they attempt to fly. She laughs good-naturedly as they flutter, sometimes rising and catching them before they land on their heads. Smoke billows from her nostrils in time with her chortles.

  Enomena is close beside her Ddraig, waving to me as I stomp toward her. Catching my mood as I flop down onto an obliging flat stone, she inquires, “What’s got you riled?”

  “Cyrus.” I spin my hand in the smoke that curls around me, watching its mesmerizing dance on the breeze. “It hardly matters.”

  “Of course, it does,” Siri replies, shooing away the babies as she looms over my shoulder, unwilling to leave me in peace. “You’re mad because he’s right, but you haven’t forgiven yourself for being tricked by his brother. You’ve got to move on, girl. Let go of the past, and make a new future.”

  “With Cyrus?” I snort, unwilling to acknowledge that the very thought sends my pulse racing with anticipation. Could I so easily switch loyalties? Not even two months ago, I was preparing to join Cane as his second in command, and now I am considering his brother instead? What’s wrong with me? Forcing my mind to focus on the issues at hand, I declare, “None of that matters right now, Siri. We have two enemies joining forces, and I have no doubt that they are coming after us soon. Cane and the king of Déchets are strong forces independently; imagine how much more lethal they will be standing united. How are we going to fight against them?”

  “Right now, you need to focus only on the new Cadogans. We’ll make a plan once they are ready to fight. For now, we can spend our time in hiding—”

  I do not hear the rest of her words. My mind blots out everything, a white screen robbing my normal sight, and a dull roar that reminds me of the constant whirring of the ocean fills my ears. It is suffocating in its intensity, burning my senses as I transition into the strange world of my visions. I can feel my hands clenching for anything I can cling to, desperately struggling and failing to stay alert in the present.

  The room I enter in my vision is dark and stony. I see two people sitting on the rough-hewn floor, their faces out of view. One wears a gray hood, and the other has his or her back to me. To the left, I notice an ornate throne shaped to resemble a giant snake. The armrests are twin viper heads as well, and jewels inset at the eyes glitter as if they are truly alive. Long, slender fingers brush these metal snakes lovingly, and my eyes draw upward until I am face to face with the king of Déchets.

  He is not what I had expected, I admit. The king is thin and muscled, as though he spends most of his time on a battlefield. There’s a dark, dead expression in his eyes, and as he watches the couple before him, he smiles. It is the expression of a man who
just discovered he’s cheated death. The sight of his wicked grin is enough to send fear shooting through my nerves like lightning intent on frying my brain.

  “No!” I shout, my hands reaching toward the familiar face on the right side of the dais. I realize that I had still been hoping Wolf could be convinced not to ally himself with Déchets. Now, I cannot help but wonder if we are clinging to a hopeless cause.

  “They are yours to punish, as we agreed.” The king of Déchets raises a weathered hand to Cane, deferring to his wishes.

  “Many thanks, Your Highness.” Cane bows before slinking over to the hooded form, triumph written on his face. He swaggers around the pair on the floor, showing off his maskless visage and clean-cut attire fresh from the Déchets’ seamstresses.

  It is unnerving to look upon Cane’s wildly excited expression. His face is too symmetrical; it’s not the face I’m growing to love, I exclaim with a shock. I find myself searching for Cyrus’s scars or that slight upturn to one corner of his mouth that always gives him a sardonic smile. Cyrus’s flaws make him beautiful, I declare, knowing I don’t just mean his physical appearance. I’ll take a flawed, real man over the perfect disguise of a coward any day.

  “Don’t you have anything to say?” Cane mocks, kicking the legs of one of the people on the floor. “Aren’t you at least going to beg me to spare your pathetic life?”

  The pair huddle close together, leaning heavily on each other for strength. “I am sorry that it came to this, love,” the hooded one whispers, and my heart grows cold as I recognize this voice as my own.

  “I’d rather die with you now than live a thousand lives alone. I’m only sorry we had so little time together,” Cyrus replies wearily, pressing closer to kiss my cheek.

  “Get away from her!” Cane screams, drawing a sword as he approaches us. Yet, in this moment, the impending threat does not give rise to terror in our hearts. We stare into each other’s eyes, our faces mirrors of one another. Sad smiles, unshed tears, longing and unspoken love all play out on our expressions. Cyrus drops his chin until our foreheads touch, his beautiful, haunted eyes closing as he waits for his brother to take his vengeance. Cane wastes no time, his sword slicing deep into Cyrus’s side.