Brood of Vipers Read online

  While I don’t believe that’s true—at least not in reference to me—I take some measure of false comfort from the hopeful condolence. We sit in silence for a few heartbeats, staring into the fire or up to the night sky, searching for truths or secrets that might solve our problems. “What are we going to do?” Grouse wonders forlornly, Goldeneye easing his hand into hers. She turns a small, sweet smile in his direction, and I watch Goldeneye’s face light up in response.

  Those two have been thick as thieves for as long as I can remember. I don’t know why I never saw them as a couple before now. Watching them, it’s as obvious as a rainbow against a storm cloud, and I find myself grateful that they are not Cadogans. It would’ve broken their hearts to have to split up because their Ddraigs had coupled with other mates.

  Enomena leans over, sensing my deepening brood, and declares, “You envy their happiness, don’t you?”

  “No. I envy their freedom,” I reply before I unwind my long legs and rise from the fireside. “Grouse, right now we’re going to sleep,” I announce, pushing all thoughts of Ddraigs and their idiotic coupling rules from my thoughts. “Tomorrow, Cyrus and I are going to teach the newcomers what little we know about being Cadogans. We are going to keep practicing and connecting with our Ddraigs. When it is time, we will meet our enemies on the battlefield, and we will fight for our rights to live free without the rule of Déchets or Wolf or anyone else.” Before any of them can respond, I scuff my shoe in the sand, dousing the fire to make my point.

  Grouse and Goldeneye move off together, disappearing with the fire’s smoky fingers. Bittern leans against her Ddraig, Nepsa, and prepares to bed down right where she sits. Enomena brushes my arm in silent consolation before sauntering over to Anemone and taking to the skies for a quick evening patrol.

  “Anything to add, Drake?” I grit my teeth, desperately trying to fight against the rage that simmers in my heart every time I confront this man and his scarlet Ddraig. Whatever our problems, they stem from a place far deeper than our unorthodox meetings. It is a clash of personalities, an instinctual battle of wills and alpha controlling natures. No matter how hard I try to conceal my dislike, I cannot find the will to be cordial or understanding.

  “I’m not your enemy,” Drake reminds me in a flat voice. I suspect he doesn’t even believe these words himself anymore. And judging by the way Ekard snorts and glares at me, I know not to trust him when he pretends to nod his hulking head in agreement.

  “Just…for the sake of all the other Ddraigs and Cadogans, let’s try to get along,” I demand, clenching my jaw when I realize I can barely follow my own advice. “You and Ekard continue to keep the nomads in line, and I’ll work with the rest. If we can at least appear to be united, we can keep the peace. Then, when the great battle that is coming has passed, we can figure out how to survive in whatever world is left over.”

  Drake’s eyes glitter in the darkness, eerily like his Ddraig’s as he hisses, “Just you worry about following your own plans, Iris. As long as you don’t make a move against me, you will have my loyalty. But the minute you double-cross me, I’ll let Ekard challenge Siri. And who do you really think will win that war?” He backs away from my place by the fireside, Ekard’s teeth gleaming as his Cadogan’s threat dissipates into the air.

  I sulk to the edge of the cavern, watching the skies as the evening chill overtakes the deserted lands. It is so very easy to fall into a proverbial pit of despair, ruminating on all the failures and bad judgments I have made in my half-hearted attempts to be a leader. Every poor choice I’ve made parades through my mind, accusing me, judging me, and illuminating all of my weaknesses. My arms prickle with goosebumps, and instantly, I regret my hasty choice to put out the fire. “Acting without thinking,” I reproach myself, chafing my arms with my hands to warm them up. “That is probably my greatest flaw.”

  “I rather think your biggest problem is that you trust too easily,” Cyrus whispers, stalking out of the shadows beside me. He removes his dark over-shirt, dropping it lightly onto my shoulders as he eases down to sit almost close enough that our arms touch. The wildfire of memories in his eyes has dulled. Rational thought replaces the fear and rage that surged through his blood earlier. “And when you trust someone, you give them your complete loyalty. Even long after they have failed to deserve such a gift.”

  I sigh as warmth envelops me, sliding my arms into the sleeves. “I never said I had just one problem area,” I retort, hating the fact that my words are true.

  “That could be said for us all,” Cyrus muses, staring off into the stars overhead.

  “Not for you,” I rasp, the humility in my admission making my heart feel small in my chest. With nothing left to say, I curl further into his shirt, inadvertently inhaling the scent off his clothes. He smells like the forest after a rainstorm, the way the air is filled with spicy aromas from the trees. There is a sense of peace for me in this smell. The forest has always been my safe haven, my refuge from the chaos, brutality, and danger that came with living in a major house. Is that what Cyrus is becoming for me now? A place of shelter, a kindred spirit to safeguard my secrets? The very idea makes my body quiver.

  “I’m sorry I got so upset,” Cyrus whispers, and I can hear the tremor in his tone like he’s barely holding onto a tiny tether that keeps his sanity anchored to his body. Those ghosts that haunt his mind will not be laid to rest easily. And that knowledge breaks a piece of my heart that I hadn’t even realized belonged to Cyrus.

  “I…I’m sorry for everything you endured at the hands of your brother. I never meant for any of it to happen.” I hear his breathing hitch at my admission of guilt and remorse.

  Cyrus nods his head, the tension easing from his shoulders a little as he quips, “And you’re wrong, you know. I have three major flaws.” He coerces a lighter tone into his words; I think it is an attempt at friendly banter. It is a small victory, a chink in the icy wall that has been a permanent fixture between us since we left the House of Piranhas.

  And the soft smile that springs to life on my lips is not at all forced. “Oh yeah? What are they?” I inquire, genuinely curious to hear him explain his own personality.

  “I don’t assert myself like I should. If I had, Warbler would be alive, Creeper would never have been in the House, Falcon would never have had as much control as she did, and you would never have hated me.” Cyrus doesn’t bat an eye as he continues, never once stumbling over his words. “Second, I hate my brother to the point that I want to kill him slowly. I want him to endure every horrible thing he did to me seven times over.” He takes a quivering breath before he whispers, “And lastly…you.”

  “Me?” I startle, jerking my chin so I can watch Cyrus’s face for more clarification into his meaning.

  “Yes, you. You are my biggest flaw. Everything I think and do ties back to you. ‘Will Iris like this? Will Iris agree or disagree with this thought?’ I ask myself at least a hundred times a day what you would say or do in my place. You’ll be the death of me.” Cyrus coughs, a hand grasping his chest where the tubes had been. Despite our mental connection and Suryc’s powers to speed healing, these wounds are still tender. It’s like they are actively avoiding the Ddraig’s magic, clinging to Cyrus’s skin as a physical reminder of his brother’s sins.

  “Why haven’t you talked to me about everything Wolf did to you?” I question, my heart heavy because I know that turning the conversation to this topic will kill these fleeting moments of peace between us. “Why did I have to hear it from our Ddraigs, from Bittern and Grouse and—”

  Cyrus’s body stiffens beside me, his breath releasing in a hiss. “They told you about—”

  “The girls mentioned the shapeshifter and travelling in a coffin,” I finish, a lump growing in my throat. “Siri showed me bits of Suryc’s memories, so I gleaned a much better picture of the tortures you’ve faced from them. How did you endure it, Cyrus?”

 
“I asked them all to keep quiet about everything. I just want to forget it ever happened!” Cyrus’s hands ball into fists, then he huffs and drops his head. “Don’t trouble yourself over those things, Iris. I survived. That’s all that really matters in the end. The pain was manageable most of the time. I mean, I’ve been around you most of my life, so I’ve already had practice in dealing with difficult people.” Cyrus grins at his barb, but the haunted look never leaves his eyes. I can see the shiver in his muscles, and I can feel the quaking rustle of his breath. “The Vibría monster was different. It…made me question reality. I lost track sometimes of what was an illusion and what was truth. That was the worst part of it all, I think.”

  My body turns without my conscious thought, my hands resting on either side of Cyrus’s cheeks as I exclaim, “Cyrus, if I had known how bad it was going to be—”

  “I…I do not blame you.” Cyrus smirks at my amazed expression, quickly adding, “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I did hate you a little during the lucid moments when I was enduring it all. And I truly believed that maybe you intended for Wolf to hurt me. I even suspected that this was all part of a plan you and my brother had concocted. But now that it is over…,” Cyrus brushes his fingers over one of my wrists, forcing my hand to stay in place on his cheek as he whispers, “I see that you never intended me harm. And in the end, it all worked out for the best. All the Cadogans we found at the House of Piranhas would have been lost if you had not come there searching for me. Many lives were saved by the way the events unfolded.”

  “I wish I could be as forgiving of myself as you are to me,” I admit, swallowing against the sob trying to claw its way out of my throat. “All I see is that I caused you unimaginable pain. I don’t think I can ever apologize enough.”

  Cyrus stares at the spot where his hand wraps around my wrist, his fingers tracing the Dadeni lines that glitter on my skin. He raises his eyes to mine, giving me a small, intimate smile. My cheeks blush under his close inspection. “Iris, I’m going to ask you something, and I don’t want you to get upset. I want you to know that I’m thinking of a time way off in the future, nothing immediate.”

  “Go on,” I shiver, already suspecting what he wishes to know.

  “Do you think there will ever be a day when you will want me? I mean, I know what the Ddraigs say about our future and that it’s inevitable for us. But if circumstances were different…do you think you could ever have chosen to love me of your own accord?” Cyrus looks away, staring at the horizon as he finishes this speech, waiting patiently for my answer. “I’m not pushing for anything romantic between us, Iris. I just want to know where I stand in your eyes.”

  Where you compare against your brother, I almost accuse, biting my tongue to keep the words from breaking the tentative trust that’s built between us tonight. My heartstrings snarl at his words. It is a tooth grinding, bone jarring sensation, as though I’ve just heard a discordant note played in the middle of an otherwise perfect song. Thoughts jumble in my mind, mixed emotions and past regrets boiling up to the surface as I consider the conundrum sitting beside me.

  “I…I feel so many different things toward you that I’m not really sure how to answer you,” I begin, hating the way I see his shoulders droop. “In the House of Vultures, all I saw in you was weakness. I thought of you as a tyrant, and I loathed you every time I thought of you. Then, after Warbler….” My words die off as the face of my old friend floats back into my mind. “I hated you as much as I hated myself for what happened to her. But I saw something different in you the night of the wake when you spoke so kindly of her. It was a softer side that I didn’t think you could possibly have in your personality. It made me question whether I had judged you too harshly. And then our world was upended by the Ddraigs. I became so conflicted, especially after everything was revealed by the Carreglas. You aren’t weak at all; in fact, you’re probably the strongest man I’ve ever met. You were a lifeline to me when I was just a child, staring out my window. And you’ve been an invisible, unsung hero that has protected me ever since.”

  “My Child of the Moon,” Cyrus interrupts, one hand brushing my ivory hair. “Now a woman of starlight and cosmic fire.” Cyrus’s fingers trail down to my shoulder, toying with the ends of my hair as he listens to my speech.

  Speaking so much of my heart makes me feel vulnerable. Yet, I force myself to continue because I owe Cyrus my honesty. I owe him everything, I admit to myself, as the memories of our childhood rush back to me. My voice continues to pour out my feelings, and I do not shrink from the words, even as they lay my soul bare. “When the Carreglas showed me your grief on the rooftop that night after I’d killed Creeper, I realized you were playing a part, hiding your true feelings under the mask of leadership. You secretly loathed Creeper and Falcon. You hid behind your well-crafted lies. I saw my own reflection in you. And I knew you were doing it all to keep me alive.”

  “To be fair, I acted that part for the rest of our housemates as well,” Cyrus mumbles, and I think my admissions are making him a little uncomfortable too. “I had many lives to protect in the House of Vultures—they needed a tough, strong leader. It’s such a relief to be free of that place.”

  Though he doesn’t say it, I suspect Cyrus feels unworthy of compliments or high praise. He sees himself as a monster because of the choices he made to save me. “You played the role of a villain, Cyrus. It doesn’t mean you are one,” I exclaim softly, my fingers wiping away small tears that slip down his cheeks.

  Then Cyrus’s hands travel up to cup my face as he sighs, “You were always my first priority. You always have been, Iris.”

  “When I discovered Cane had been the one to scar your face, I felt so much heartache and pity that I could hardly breathe. And that your father had tried to kill you because he didn’t think he could save you—how did you survive the chest wound?”

  “I had an ally,” Cyrus answers cryptically. I wait for an explanation, but no more words are dispensed on the subject. “Do you pity me still, Iris?”

  “Yes, I do, Cyrus,” I confess as I remember the day I found him in the tent after Cane had so cruelly tortured him. “I’m afraid a part of my heart will always be broken over everything you endured because of me.” You think of yourself as a monster, but the reality is that it’s me! I almost shout, the truth of my words creating an insatiable, hollow void in my chest. I’m the poison in your veins, Cyrus. You called me your flaw, but really, I’m your worst enemy. Don’t you see that? All of your pain and suffering would never have happened if you hadn’t attached yourself to me!

  Cyrus’s body becomes unnaturally still beside me, his hands carefully lifting away from my skin. I immediately miss their warmth, and it’s an effort to keep my face from leaning closer to him, seeking his touch once more. “Hatred, loathing, confusion, pity, guilt, and heartbreak. Not exactly a strong chance for love to grow in the midst of all that, is there?” I can hear the sorrow he carries in the way his voice wobbles.

  How could you still want love from me? I wonder, surprised that he can regard me with any measure of tenderness. Rather than ask the question aloud, I simply lean my head onto his shoulder, scooting closer so I can drape my legs across his lap. His arm wraps around my waist, securing me to his chest as though it is a natural response to my closeness. My eyes overflow with unspent tears that soak into his shirt, and I feel his own drip down onto my hair. I do not know how long we sit there, clinging to each other’s broken heart in the grieving darkness. Yet, in this moment, I know I would not choose to be with anyone else.

  ***

  “I’ve dispatched two patrols to search for signs of nameless unchosen in the area. Any that are found will be immediately sold to your border guard contact, Matthias. The rest of the men are waiting for your orders. Where are we going next?” Jackal stands ramrod straight as he gives his report to Wolf, who reclines behind a ramshackle desk in the House of Piranhas.

  “Everyt
hing’s so clean here,” Wolf muses, staring at the whitewashed walls that seem to be permeated with the crisp, fresh scent of the salty ocean air. “It’s like the entire house resets at night. A new day, a new life, a clean slate. Not unlike this one here, huh?” Wolf murmurs, jutting his chin toward Lynx’s baby. Her strapping young son slumbers against Wolf’s shoulder, healthy and strong after such a long, difficult labor. His chubby little fingers curl in the fur on Wolf’s mask, and he coos softly like a little dove with every exhaled breath. Little Dove. Wolf repeats the nickname in his mind, his frown deepening. That won’t do at all! “He needs a mighty predator’s name,” Wolf declares, shutting away all thoughts of birds and their connection to the House of Vultures. “I wonder what he will choose for himself when he is of age to take a mask.”

  The juxtaposition of battle worn leader and fragile, sleeping newborn unnerves Jackal’s normally unflappable resolve. “Sir? Do I send the men to track and destroy the Ddraigs? Or do you have another destination in mind?”

  Wolf raises a finger to his lips, freezing when the child moves. He sighs with relief when the babe does not cry out. “This one’s kept the whole house awake since his birth,” Wolf whispers to Jackal, a strangely wild look crossing his eyes. “He likes me, though. I’m sure he always will, unlike some fickle-minded woman.” A sharp, aching pain lances through his temples, reminding him of the naming bond that still holds sway in his thoughts. How do I break free of her? He wonders with a frustrated growl, pulsing starbursts of light erupting in his vision. How do I remove this hold she has over my mind?

  “Sir? The Ddraigs?” Jackal insists gently, watching Wolf’s hands tighten around the baby’s back, as though he fears someone now comes to try and take the child by force. The claws on Wolf’s fingers dig into the newborn’s tender skin without bringing blood. Jackal holds his breath, silently hoping his leader does not screw up and hurt the baby. Despite his loyalty, Jackal cannot help but wonder if recent events have caused his leader to finally lose his mind. Wolf’s erratic, thoughtless behavior and constant obsession over his brother and Iris only fuel Jackal’s suspicions. “What should I tell the men—?”