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

voice fades to a thin whisper as if the words she must speak are physically painful to utter. “If you become Vibría, you will never be accepted by the other Ddraigs or Cadogans again. You and I would be exiled; we’d lose our position as leaders. Think of what you’d be putting Cyrus through—he’d lose you forever. And I’d lose Suryc.”

“If it was the only way if I asked it of you in the future, would you bind yourself to me and become Vibría?” I ask, my voice growing hoarse and full of emotion.

“It would break my heart,” Siri whimpers, writhing as if the thought causes her physical pain. “But yes, I would do it if you asked me. I love you most of all, Iris.”

“Let’s catch up to the others.” I change the subject, my mind still processing the new information I’ve learned. I won’t ask unless it is the absolute last option for us, I vow, already afraid I’d have no other choice in the coming days. Could I do it? Could I break her heart and my own, exiling us from all of the ones we care for? Could I live with becoming an abomination? “If it’s the only way to save Cyrus, Suryc, and the rest of the Ddraigs, could I afford not to do it?” I question, turning my eyes up to the sky that mocks me with its bright, beautiful light.

***

As the sun rises and peeks into the infirmary, Helena paces restlessly between the empty beds. She nibbles absent-mindedly on her thumbnail, a habit she’s never been able to break since her childhood. The sound of Ithel’s hacking coughs still haunts her ears. The sight of the shock, fever and chills racing through his body stole every moment of sleep from Helena’s mind. No matter how many plans she created, analyzed, and ultimately discarded, she cannot determine a means of helping Ithel escape. “I have to play along with the king’s orders,” she whispers with a sigh, resigning herself to the truth that leaves a bitter taste on her tongue. “I’m so sorry I must leave you behind.”

“And here I half expected to find you in a fighting mood,” Alaric quips as he strides into the infirmary, humming an indistinguishable tune in his good humor. “I heard about your escapades yesterday. Tell me, how did you like our accommodations for your former flame?”

Rage burns like a wildfire in Helena’s heart, but she keeps her mouth shut. I will not rise to his taunts. “When will I meet my new guard?”

“So anxious to leave my presence?” Alaric feigns sorrow, raising a hand to his heart as he sneers. “Or are you anxious to leave Ithel behind again? Did the sight of him bring back old feelings? Or are you just running from guilt and shame, Helena? This time, I wonder, will the separation be permanent?”

Helena stalks over to the window, clutching the sill to keep her shaking fingers from revealing the depths of her anxiety. There’s some truth in his mockery. After all, what choice do I have? If the rogue Windwalker in Cassé is my daughter, I cannot drag her into Alaric’s clutches. But what will happen to Ithel if I don’t return? Torn by the heartbreaking decision that lies before her, Helena struggles to keep her tone from betraying her sorrow as she replies, “I simply want to get all this business completed. I earned my freedom in the tunnel, and yet I am not fully—”

“Trusted. I believe that’s the word that best completes your sentence, daughter. You are not fully trusted,” Alaric interrupts, slinking up behind Helena, leaning forward until his chin almost rests on her shoulder. “You didn’t really think I’d let you go so easily, did you?”

Helena’s spine stiffens, and she steps off to the side, easing out of Alaric’s proximity. The vision of her father’s hands wrapping around her throat, tightening their grip until her eyes fade to pale gray, brings a slight hitch in her breath. He’s more than capable, she reminds herself, crossing her arms to offer some semblance of comfort, however slight it may be. “I took you at your word when you explained the rules for all the prisoners. Succeed, and you earn your freedom. I believe that’s what you said. It was my mistake to believe you would honor them.”

“Haven’t I?” Alaric exclaims, covering his mouth in contrived surprise. “Dear me, I didn’t realize you were still locked away in a prison where there was no hope of ever seeing the sun.” Alaric offers a smug smile as his sarcastic point is driven home in Helena’s mind.

You will never be free of him, Helena reminds herself, feeling defeated as the truth of her words weighs down her chest. Her shoulders droop, and her head falls until her forehead rests against the glass pane. Turn it off, Helena, she warns herself as a stray tear threatens to slip down her cheek. Don’t you let that bastard see you cry. If he sees a weakness, he will prey upon it until he destroys you. Don’t you dare give him a foothold into your heart. An icy stillness slowly steals through her veins, calming her roiling emotions. Let yourself grow cold. Emotionless. Sink into this emptiness; let this void become your sanctuary and your prison. He cannot hurt you here.

Helena takes a slow, filling breath, focusing her attention on a wind vane far off on one of the distant houses. She feels her body straighten, her shoulders pulled back to their normal posture, her eyes open wide without tears. “When will I meet my guard, Alaric?” She repeats her question, her voice calm and her tone confident. “The longer it takes for me to leave this place, the longer your rogue Windwalker is allowed to remain free and unpunished.”

Alaric’s face grows somber, his eyes clenching a little as he studies his daughter suspiciously. “Time in the dungeons has served you well, it seems, daughter. I think you’ve