Brood of Vipers, Maggie Claire [e novels to read .TXT] 📗

healing. Her eyes are full of fire and hatred as she watches her guardian approach. Yet before her mouth can open to scold him, Ithel bellows at her, his voice hoarse and full of pleading.

“Listen here, Helena! You’re going to beat the tunnel. Do you hear me? You’re going to succeed. And when you do, you’re going to find a way to dismantle the king’s reign.” He crosses over close to her side, leaning over so their faces almost touch. “And I’m going to help you do it—whatever it takes, Helena. Promise me you’ll bring Alaric’s reign to an end.”

Helena stares hard into Ithel’s eyes, defiance warring with her fears as she spits back, “How can you be so sure?”

“You hate that the healer slaves die to save you, right?” Ithel questions, pointing to the pile of sand swirling around the bed. “You hate what the king did to the people in Cassé? Don’t you want to see him suffer for it? Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want him dead!”

“Of course, I do,” Helena agrees with a grumble. “But I don’t want anyone else to die for me either!”

“Let them do their jobs, Helena.” Ithel raises his hands to stop Helena’s protests as he shouts, “I hate it too! And if there was another way, don’t you think I’d have found it by now? But crying over these losses solves nothing. We can grieve over them once the world is right again—once you’ve had the chance to change the way Cassé is run. For now, let every death that heals you make you angry.”

“It already does that, Ithel! I just want to stop it!” Helena cries, throwing off her blanket as she stumbles to her feet.

Ithel’s fingers grip like a vice around her shoulders. “Then use your fury to beat Alaric at his own sick and twisted game!”

Helena’s face slowly releases its furious scowl, slowly turning to a cold, emotionless expression. Her breathing slows as Ithel’s words take effect. Challenge your rage; let it drive your success. Only the fire in her eyes shows any sign of her true feelings. Her next words surprise Ithel, her voice as frozen as the winter’s snow. “Drug me again, Ithel. I want to be ready for whatever the king throws at me. And when I win this challenge—when the time is right—I will find a way to kill Alaric.”

Chapter 5

“You seem rather chipper this morning,” Jackal winks as he smacks Wren’s elbow with a knowing grin. “So, does that mean we should be expecting another bundle from Lynx in the coming months?” His bawdy laughter erupts at his own crude joke.

“Hardly,” Wren snorts, covering his rage in carefully controlled expressions. He schools his mouth to return Jackal’s smile and forces his tone to sound conspiratorial as he adds, “I took great care to make certain she’d not carry my child.”

Jackal roars once more, cuffing Wren’s shoulder. “That oughta show her who’s boss!” He slaps another cut of roasted deer onto his plate before he saunters off to find his men. Turning back, Jackal gives Wren another long eye before he inquires, “You want to come join my crew around their fire this morning? They’d love to hear all the gory details of you punishing the spy.”

The longing to beat the stupid grin off Jackal’s face nearly overwhelms Wren’s carefully maintained disguise. “You go ahead. I think I’ll give a report to Wolf first.” Wren moves toward the stairs, putting as much distance between himself and Jackal as possible.

“Oh, that’s not the kind of story Wolf would enjoy.” Jackal scoffs at the idea, waving Wren to move closer. “Wolf’s only interested in that sort of thing when the discussion turns to his precious Ddraig sympathizer. Otherwise, his snarling frown makes the men so uncomfortable that they stop talking mid-story any time Wolf approaches.”

Perfect. Wren genuinely feels a slow smile creep across his features. I can use that little detail to drive a wedge between Wolf and his second in command. He revels in the simplicity of his plot to remove Jackal from his position of power. It’s almost too easy. Wren dismisses Jackal with a wave as he replies, “Just the same. I think I’ll go talk to Wolf first.”

Jackal shrugs and saunters out the door, whistling as he makes his way to his men’s campsites.

Wren waits by the steps a few heartbeats before hurrying to the kitchen table instead of up to Wolf’s room. He hopes that Wolf will find him here alone and ask him why he does not join the other soldiers. A simple, innocent question—that’s all it takes to begin the greatest deception of my days.

Wren chews his venison quickly, the flavor untasted on his tongue as he remembers the events of the evening. After formulating a bare bones plan with Lynx, he spent the remainder of the night determining his next steps. Thousands of possibilities and problems raced through Wren’s wide eyes. He played each scenario like a mental movie, pausing and repeating each event until every detail was perfected. It wasn’t until the wee hours when the sun was whispering its first light into the world that Wren finally slept.

Despite being bone weary, Wren feels at ease with his lies. Getting Wolf to question Jackal’s loyalty won’t be as difficult as Lynx feared. Breeding that kind of mistrust is as simple as breathing for Wren. A shiver of excitement races down his spine, and the smile on his lips is entirely genuine. The thrill of the hunt has begun. While the quarry may not be animal, the chase is very similar. The moment when Jackal is removed from Wolf’s side will be just as rewarding as a kill shot.

“What are you doing here?” Wolf barks as he slides into the kitchen with his unearthly grace. The purplish bruises of sleep deprivation discolor the skin under Wolf’s eyes. Almost absentmindedly, his fingers linger at his temple, attempting to massage away a headache that