Brood of Vipers Read online

  “We’ve got to change it,” I cry, resolve burrowing into my heart and quietening my fears. “I can’t let her die.” Or you. I catch myself before I speak the words aloud. Cyrus would mistake my meaning, and deep down, I’m not proud of myself. My reasons for keeping him close are selfish. I want an ally, someone who can be beside me when I need assistance. Not a romantic partner or a bonded mate—just a true friend I can count on to have my back in the war that is brewing.

  “You were only worried about Siri?” Cyrus questions, pressing the issue, seeking to hear that I value him. I gasp as his brows furrow, his eyes turning as black as onyx. A tiny smile creeps along his lips as he smirks, “Liar.” Then he’s back to normal, all signs of his Asíle abilities gone. The change happens so quickly I wonder if I am still hallucinating. What did he see? I wonder as a blush heats my cheeks. What does he think he knows? This truth-reading ability of his unnerves me!

  Cyrus’s demeanor relaxes, but I cannot shake the feeling that he’s mistaken my worry for something deeper than it is.

  “What triggered your vision, Iris?”

  “I hardly want to talk about that now!” I wail, stopped from running away by his steely grip on my shoulder. I need space. Freedom. The chance to process everything I’ve just witnessed. And I need to do this part alone.

  “I understand what you’re saying better than you realize,” Cyrus begins, his hold tightening when I attempt to jerk myself away. “But think about this: the best time for you to analyze what just happened is immediately after it’s over. The events are fresh in your mind, making them easier to review. A little discomfort now could save you hours of work in the future. Think about it! How much better would it be if you could control these visions? If you can learn how to force yourself to see the future, then you can anticipate what needs to be done to alter it. You can change this fate, Iris.”

  My nose begins to bleed, the warmth of my blood oozing down over my lips, some of it slipping into my mouth. The metallic flavor makes my stomach heave. Every blink is a new lesson in pain too. My eyelids feel like sandpaper as they scratch over my pupils. Pinching the bridge of my nose, my voice comes out sounding whiny. “I…I saw blood right before it began. Blood on my feet. The vision began with blood too, so maybe the similar circumstances propelled me into the hallucination.”

  For a long while, Cyrus does not speak, his thoughts far away as he considers my insight. I stay beside him, gagging as the scents of my own filth slowly assault me. Embarrassment heats my cheeks at the thought of how helpless and vulnerable I must have looked. I hate being weak, especially in front of him.

  “There’s got to be more to it,” Cyrus finally decides, turning a dubious expression on me once more. His eyes narrow as he watches me squirm under his gaze, and he growls, “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “What do you mean?” I turn my face up to the cavern’s entrance, so I do not look down and draw attention to my soiled clothes. I’m a mess. Gods, this is revolting!

  “Well, what you described is a self-fulfilling circumstance and completely out of your control. You can’t anticipate how a vision is going to be triggered without knowing the future, right? And you won’t know the future unless you use your Gwen abilities.” Cyrus pauses as I try to wrap my brain around his explanation. “Your mind couldn’t know you needed to see blood to trigger a vision unless you already knew the future. It’s circular logic, don’t you see?”

  “It’s a paradox,” I agree, nodding my head as I untangle the web of emotions in my mind like a ball of yarn that’s been used as a cat’s plaything. “I can’t know the future and be walking blindly into these visions at the same time. I get it.”

  “So, whatever triggered your powers had to have been more complex than just seeing blood.” Cyrus nods. “Similar circumstances aren’t enough, so what else could it be?” When I do not answer immediately, Cyrus stands and begins pacing back and forth in front of me. He prattles on under his breath, and I use his distraction to handle my appearance.

  I stumble on my shaky feet when I stand, but Cyrus is too preoccupied by his thoughts to notice my movements. In the corner of the cave, a small pool bubbles up from a cold spring. My body quakes as I strip off my soiled clothes, slipping into the freezing waters as soon as I am naked. The water is arid, gliding across my skin in waves that feel more like foam than fluid. I let the roiling frigid waters rinse away my embarrassment. My tears slip down my face; I hide my exhaustion in the springs. The water takes my secrets, easing them out of my heart as if I were bearing my soul to a close confidant. I won’t even consider rising from the springs until my body and heart are numb.

  “I think your gift is tied to your emotions!” Cyrus cries out in excitement, searching the ground where I had been sitting. “Iris? Where’d you go?”

  I consider not responding, but his idea intrigues me. “Take off your shirt and turn around,” I demand, waving a hand to alert Cyrus to my place in the bath. “Just toss it over your head, and I’ll come pick it up.”

  Cyrus gulps, eyes wide as he realizes I’m washing in the springs. He scrambles to follow my wishes, his fingers trembling as he tugs at the buttons holding his shirt closed. I should probably feel some deeper level of mortification at our situation, but I’m just too exhausted to care anymore. Cyrus tosses me his shirt as I requested, immediately turning away so I can move freely.

  The fabric is mixed with wool, making it a little itchy as it rakes across my arms. Still warm from Cyrus’s body, I shiver as my skin absorbs his heat. “Now, what do you mean about my emotions triggering the visions?” I mumble, trying not to appear as flustered as I feel. Something about wearing his clothes feels too intimate, like another line between us has blurred, and no matter what I do, I’ll never be able to erase the damage I’ve done.

  “I….” Cyrus stumbles on his words as he faces me. His eyes drift down my frame, studying my damp hair and the way his shirt clings to my skin. It’s a struggle not to fidget under this scrutiny. Sensing my discomfort, Cyrus clenches his fists and clears his throat to speak once more. “What were you feeling when the vision overtook you?”

  My thoughts drift back over the moments before I was swept into the nightmare. “I was feeling exhausted and nervous. I was worrying over you, specifically your presence here to watch my training. I was afraid I would make another foolish mistake, and you’d see it.” My cheeks flush red, and I bite my tongue to keep myself from talking anymore. Feelings have never gotten me far in this world and admitting to any type of weakness only leaves me vulnerable. Even with Cyrus, I should be careful.

  “And how did you feel in the vision?” Cyrus questions, no sign of judgement at my explanation. Not even any trace of hurt flickers in his expression when he hears me say I did not want him around during my training. Instead, he presses for more information with an almost clinical detachment. “Were your feelings the same or different from the beginning of the vision?”

  Exhaustion, nervousness, worry, and fear. I tick of the emotions on one hand as I replay the vision. “They were the same,” I exclaim, a question immediately popping up to my lips. “But…how does that help me, Cyrus? Am I supposed to force myself to feel something if I want to see a vision?”

  “I…I don’t know,” Cyrus murmurs, rubbing his chin as he processes the information. “But at least it’s a start.”

  His calmness annoys me, and I cannot stop myself from lashing out. “Really? Because all I hear is that we are going in circles. Even if our abilities are connected to our emotions, that still leaves us with no means of controlling what we see. If anything, we’ve just damned ourselves to never understanding our gifts.” Emotions are dangerous, prowling beasts that hide in the lairs of our hearts and attack at the worst possible moments. They are unstoppable, uncontrollable, and unyielding.

  Cyrus pauses, turning to face me, a flash of concern causing his mouth to turn into a deeper frown, “Lo
ok, I get that you’re frustrated, but—”

  “No more,” I plea, my mind swimming with too many questions to process at this time. “I need to rest.”

  Cyrus grabs my hand, halting my progress toward the path that leads deeper into the caverns. “Iris, I really think we could figure this out tonight if you’ll just stay—”

  “Enough!” I snarl, ripping my arm away as my temper boils with my frustration. “After all the horrors I just had to witness, I’m done, Cyrus. I felt myself losing my mind because my Ddraig was dead. I watched you die right in front of me. Now, I need to sleep and try and forget how all that felt. Can you understand that?”

  I shove past him, elbowing my way around his still frame. The wool in the shirt’s fabric scratches my skin as I hurry away, reminding me that I’m not in my own clothes. He was kind to me; he’s always been protective and kind to me in his way. He doesn’t deserve my impatience or my scorn.

  I almost make it out of his sight without speaking again, but that nagging sense of guilt stays my feet at the edge of the cavern, forcing my mouth to whisper, “Thanks for letting me use your shirt.”

  “I’m sorry,” Cyrus replies, his arms crossing as he scuffs the ground with his boot. “I know I’m pressing you to stay and talk more than you want. I just….” His words trail off as he silently argues with himself over what to say. He shifts from one foot to the other, hesitating on the edge of sharing his thoughts with me and keeping me out of his confidence.

  “Please, tell me,” I sigh, walking back to stand beside him, stifling a yawn as the shock of my vision wears off, fatigue rapidly filling the void in my thoughts. Whatever it is, just make it quick! My burning eyelids scorch my pupils as I blink, and I struggle not to fall asleep while I wait for Cyrus to make up his mind about talking to me. In truth, I am curious as to what is on his mind. Ever since we returned from the House of Piranhas, he’s treated me with cold hostility or guarded fear. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize that this is the most civil conversation we’ve had in a long time. So, my attempt to be gentle and kind as I approach him once more is completely genuine. “What are you trying to say, Cyrus?”

  Cyrus controls his breathing, his hands growing still as he makes a decision. “I just…don’t want to be alone.” Raking a hand over the back of his neck, the words finally pour out of his mouth. “My brother broke something inside me, Iris. I wake up at night in terror, screaming as I dream of all the nightmarish things he did to me. My dreams have been bad enough that they cause me to sleepwalk. I’ve awakened at the mouth of the cave, calling for my brother, begging him to kill me. Sometimes I fear I’m crazy.” Pulling one arm away from his body, I see a long, jagged cut running from wrist to elbow, neat stitches keeping it closed. “Last night, I woke up when I’d sliced my own arm open, my last words a shout of triumph, proclaiming that I would finally die and rid the world of my wickedness. I’m still not sure if that’s truly what I want or something my brother managed to implant into my brain. Either way, I am afraid I’ll kill myself if I’m left alone too long.”

  “But you don’t feel like you want to die when you’re awake, right?” All traces of sleep disappear from my mind when I hear Cyrus’s fears.

  Cyrus shakes his head, his arms wrapping around his body as though he’s keeping out a chill. I can see his teeth chattering. “I only feel this way when I’m asleep. Some hallucinations are so strong they happen when I’m awake too, but I’ve been able to talk myself through those,” Cyrus confesses, wringing his hands a little as he focuses his gaze on the ground.

  “How come I’m just hearing about this now, Cyrus? Does Suryc know?” I demand, wondering how he’s managed to stay alive this long on his own. It’s a miracle he’s survived this long!

  In a much softer voice, Cyrus rasps, “I couldn’t tell Suryc. I couldn’t handle the hurt it would bring him. I’m only telling you now because I actually drew blood this last time.” Cyrus shivers, his eyes growing wide as he recalls the details of his last nightmares. “I’m afraid I’m losing my mind, Iris. The darkness in me is growing stronger, and I fear I cannot trust myself, alert or asleep.”

  My heart feels as though I’ve weighed it down with heavy stones and tossed it into the river. “How long have you been dealing with this alone?” I would have done something if I’d known, I tell myself to assuage my guilt.

  “It’s been coming on since I was captive with Wolf. After we returned to the Pith, I started sleepwalking. I’d go to Suryc for comfort, but he spends his nights with Siri.” And I can’t bear the sight of our Ddraigs together while you and I remain apart. He does not say it, but I recognize the wistful longing in the way he stares at me. “The self-harm is really what terrifies me.”

  “Who stitched your wound?” I inquire pity causing my heart to ache. I understand what it feels like to wake up screaming, to search for comfort and find none. Talking to Cyrus is in many ways like conversing with a mirror. I may not be prepared to love or couple myself to him, but I can relate to his circumstances.

  “I did it myself. Hurt like hell, but I managed.” Feverish terror gleams in Cyrus’s wild eyes. “Please. Help me. I know it’s a lot to ask. I mean, you’ve already saved me once. But—”

  “Follow me.” My voice sounds tiny as I give the order, and I struggle to hide the quiver in my limbs as I consider what I’m about to do. I wonder if we’ll be able to make this work or if we will end up killing each other. If I was a betting woman, I’d wager that one of us will die before the week is out. “We’ll go to wherever you’ve hidden your stuff first. Bring what you need for the night, and then I’ll show you where I sleep. From now on, you will bed down there too. We can move the rest of it tomorrow.”

  Cyrus sighs, reaching over and bear hugging me before I can react. His sudden nearness overwhelms me, and I brace myself against his chest, trying to quell my first instinct to push him away. When my hands hit his bare skin, I feel even more awkward. “Thank you,” Cyrus breathes into my hair, the strands near my ear standing on end. He cradles me a heartbeat longer than necessary before he finally releases his hold.

  “Come on then,” I growl when I’m free to move. A strange sensation prickles in my hands, and suddenly, the further I move from Cyrus, the colder my world becomes. Cyrus doesn’t seem to notice, staying a few steps behind me like a watchful puppy. Yet I feel the shift, and it terrifies me. For better or worse, Cyrus is becoming a source of comfort, an emotional crutch that I just cannot allow myself to indulge. My vision alone was proof of that—if I allow my heart to get too involved with him, if I allow the coupling that Siri says is inevitable, then surely, I am setting the stage for that vision to be fulfilled. And the thought of watching him and Siri die at the hands of Wolf brings bile to my throat.

  However, I cannot deny Cyrus’s pleas for help, especially when it was my orders that caused him to endure the nightmares he’s faced. I cannot abandon him to the ghosts in his mind. I’d never forgive myself if I woke up one morning and found him dead by his own hand.

  “I…I sleep here.” Cyrus interrupts my brooding, pointing to a tiny crevice in the wall. “It’s a tight squeeze to get inside, but I figured that would keep me safe.” He slides a hand into the crack, pawing at the ground on the right side. Within a few seconds, his hand snakes out of the hole with a carefully tied shirt that’s serving as a makeshift knapsack.

  “You…you were already packed?” I exclaim, wondering if I’ve just been duped into some strange seduction plan he’s concocted.

  “I never unpacked my stuff,” Cyrus mutters, unable to meet my eye. “I guess I haven’t felt safe enough to call this home.”

  Instinctively I brush his arm, whispering, “I’m sorry, Cyrus.” Heat erupts under my fingertips, searing my skin until I am sure my fingers are charred. When I move my hand away, I still feel the pressure of Cyrus’s skin against mine like an after-image from looking up into the sun. “
Let’s just go,” I hiss, falling back into brooding silence before I can do any more damage.

  ***

  “What’s your greatest fear, Helena?” Ithel wonders aloud as they take a break during their third day of training for another meager meal of stew and stale bread.

  “Heights,” Helena retorts sarcastically as she slumps into a chair beside the guard, wishing she could knock him to the floor for all the horrible things he’s made her endure. Right now, her nerves still flutter from her last attempt to climb up the palace ramparts.

  Ithel had been truly sadistic this time and forced her to wear a blindfold, leaving her completely dependent upon her sense of touch. “Remember, your Windwalker magic won’t be able to save you in the tunnel. You fall there, and you will die,” Ithel whispered into her ear just before he secured the blindfold over her eyes.

  Helena’s heartbeat hadn’t slowed since not even when her feet finally hit the infirmary’s stone patio once more. “I thought we were supposed to run the tunnel, Ithel. Why do you keep forcing me to climb up the palace walls? Shouldn’t I be focusing on building up my leg muscles and my endurance?”

  “Climbing does that,” Ithel bites back, stirring his broth with a crooked spoon. “The fact that it works your arms too is an added bonus. Besides, you don’t know what’s actually in the tunnel, do you? Maybe you’ll need upper body strength too.” Ithel smirks when he notices Helena’s pinched, sour expression and reiterates his first question. “Now, what is your greatest fear?”

  “Do they have anything other than broth in the kitchens?” Helena whines, refusing to answer as she slurps loudly. “Meat? Cheese? Even a few onions or greens would help give it some flavor. Or maybe a piece of bread that doesn’t make me fear breaking a tooth as I bite down.”

  “This broth provides your body with all it needs to function. And that bread may be tough, but it’s filling,” Ithel answers, pointing his spoon at her with a low growl in his throat. “And you’re damn lucky you get it. Now, quit complaining and eat.”