“Iris is a cunning threat,” Wren replies, the implication being that he believes Wolf’s reasoning is well-founded.
“But if anyone in this company would have reason to be a spy, surely it would be you,” Wolf accuses, cutting his eyes to focus on Wren once more. “After all, you have the most history with Iris and my brother.”
“I’m the obvious choice,” Wren hedges, forcing his mouth to keep chewing and not reveal how unnerved he truly feels by Wolf’s accusations. Patience, he reminds himself, forcing his throat to swallow his meal. You can talk your way around his fears. “Suspicion of me is natural. Surely your enemy would send you a less conspicuous threat.” Wren picks up his knife, inspecting the teeth of the blade. He imagines how terribly it would hurt to drag this blade across his skin, to feel those teeth biting deep into his flesh, grinding and chewing as they search for his bones. The hurt he fantasizes makes his broken words sound genuine as he laments, “Iris left me behind when she came to destroy our camp with her horrible Ddraigs, remember? She chose not to take me with her—clearly, that shows that she considers me to be an enemy. Just like you, I’m sorry to say.” Wren chances a glance at Wolf, hoping to find him convinced.
“Or she left you here to be her eyes and ears in my camp,” Wolf replies, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he thinks.
“She has reason to hate me,” Wren murmurs, taking a deep breath and hoping his next story will be enough to throw suspicion away from himself. “I tricked Iris when we were still in the House of Vultures. I made her believe I was someone else she trusted, and she ended up taking a beating and spending some time in the traitor binds for all the things I learned from her. So, let’s just say that I’m not entirely surprised she’d leave me behind.”
“I see.” Wolf stalks over to the table, dropping into a chair beside Wren. When he speaks again, Wren can barely contain his smile, for the question Wolf asks only proves that he’s begun to trust Wren’s story. “So, for the sake of arguing, let’s just say Jackal is a spy. How am I supposed to catch him?”
Wren pauses, purposefully hesitating to answer Wolf’s query. Don’t be too hasty—a good answer given too quickly will make this seem like manipulation. He’s got to think my response is carefully thought out yet spontaneous to this moment. “Well, you already know that he clams up when you or I get close. And if you asked him about it outright, you know he’d deny it.” Wren holds his breath a moment, closing his eyes as if he’s lost in thought. “What if you let me watch him a while, gathering evidence from a distance? It’s what I used to do all the time, you know, and when I have something concrete, I’ll bring it to you.”
“Fair enough,” Wolf agrees, slicing off a piece of meat from the communal plate on the table. “Then I’ll decide what to do when we know for sure that Jackal’s a problem.” Cutting his eyes at Wren, Wolf adds, “And if I find you are lying about any of this, I will kill you myself.”
“Good thing I’m telling the truth then,” Wren sasses with a sardonic smile, clenching his hands under the table out of Wolf’s view.
***
Everything is bright white and astringently clean. Compared to the world I’m stepping into, I feel extremely grungy like I could never take enough showers to fit into this pristine place. Whispered murmurs catch my attention, but their words slip away from me before I can comprehend what is being said. My eyes blink but do not adjust to the light surrounding me.
Yet, the pain is gone. The blessed relief of finally being free of all my physical aches and emotional sorrows has come. I feel a genuine smile drawing up the corners of my lips, the first I have felt since the day I learned to fly on Siri’s back.
The memory of my Ddraig brings me a moment of nostalgia. Will she come to this new land? Will she be able to find me here? A Ddraig’s life is a long one. How long before I will see my Siri again?
Hard as I try, I cannot see anything clearly enough to move into this new reality. Turning my head from side to side, I scan the horizon, searching for the faces of the speakers I still hear close by me. In the process, I discover a looming darkness at my back, a shadowy hole that swirls and writhes on itself. I turn around to inspect this hole, a sense of foreboding gnawing at my stomach.
“I wouldn’t do that if I was you, Little Bird,” a painfully familiar voice beckons me. Whirling around, I discover my father’s stormy gray eyes staring at me, a glorious smile lighting up his face.
“Father? It can’t be!” I wail, rushing over to wrap my arms around the man’s neck, his deep laugh rumbling through his chest, warming my heart. Then I feel stupid for my outburst, for I know that I have died in my world just like my father. Why shouldn’t I expect to see him again in death? “I’ve missed you so!” I sob into his shoulder, uncaring that I cry like a babe.
“I know, child, and I have missed you greatly,” my father replies, gently pushing me back to look at my face. “And I would love to hear all about how you gained these strange markings on your face and hands. Yet it must wait; there are much more important things to discuss.”
“Why? It seems we have all the time we will ever need now,” I surmise, glancing back at the dark hole behind me, feeling oddly calm at the realization that I have died.
“No, Little Bird, you must go back,” my father laments, looking a little wistful and sad as he leads me closer to the darkness. “The people over in your lands will need your help to defeat the king of Cassé.”
“But why? Why can’t somebody else step up and lead?” Immediately Cyrus and Drake’s faces come to my mind, and I explain, “There are other Ddraigs and Cadogans—”
“So, you have already found the fabled Ddraigs of the Pith lands.” My father laughs, shaking his head as he ruffles my hair. “Little Bird, you have made me prouder than you could possibly know.” Dropping his hand to my shoulder, my father sighs, patting my arm in reassurance as he continues. “I suspect you’ve also discovered that your mother still lives.”
“Yes, and she has Windwalker magic,” I recall, replaying the scenes of her escape shown to me by the wretched Carreglas, which the Ddraigs guard so meticulously and the Cassé king desires so zealously. It seems like another lifetime when I recall those first days with Siri in the Pith. “I inherited Mother’s magic too.”
“My darling, there is something you must know,” my father mumbles, his eyes full of regret as he presses on with his news. “Windwalker magic is only passed down through bloodlines where both parents are gifted. Not every child inherits it, but both parents must have the ability to wield it just the same.” My father’s hand tenses on my shoulder as he waits for me to comprehend his words. When I don’t, he gently continues. “And you already know I died the day of Cassè’s windstorm attack. I perished because I do not have those abilities.” After a few more moments of silence, he clearly states, “While I have loved you as my own, you are not my biological daughter, Little Bird.”
It takes my heart a few beats to catch up to the agony ripping through my bones. Tears stream down my cheeks as I wail, “I…I didn’t need to know that! It doesn’t change anything—”
“You did need this information, child, because the rest of what I must say hinges on this truth,” my father interjects, and while I am curious as to the meaning of his words, all I can do is wonder what I should call him now.
“Why? How could that possibly matter?” I cry, eyeing the dark hole that will lead me back into my own reality. As beautifully clean as this land seems to be, it holds just as much sorrow as my homeland.
“Your mother was a dear friend to me, but she was never my wife as you believed. Her beloved was a soldier in the king of Déchets’ border guards. Though it killed her to do it, she left him behind when she crossed into Cassè, and she did so for you. She wanted you to grow up in our lands, to see what life was truly like on our side of the Devil’s Spine.”
“To what end?” I snap, bitterness
rising like bile in my stomach. “Why would she want me to suffer as I have?”
“Everything went to hell after the windstorm, something your mother had no means of predicting. She wanted you to see the good in Cassè; she wanted to bring you to this very moment. When the wretched King Alaric gets greedy again, she hoped you’d be ready to stand against him.” My father takes a deep breath, a sound I’ve already come to regret hearing because it means more troublesome news is coming. “Your mother never told me outright who she was, but I know she came from nobility in Déchets. You are a full-blooded, Windwalker magic-wielding member of Déchets noble class. Your word has weight in the king’s court because of your mother’s title. Alaric will stand against Cassè, but because you are a citizen of his country, he is law bound to protect you.” Lowering his eyes, my father gives me a moment to digest this information before he speaks once more. “It puts you in a very precarious position, Little Bird, and for that, I am truly sorry. But you are a noble of Déchets, and you stand with the Ddraigs and people of Cassè. You have an opportunity to bridge the gap between our nations—or lead a coup to overthrow Alaric for good. That choice will be yours in the end.”
What a glorious gift from my mother, I sarcastically retort in my mind, clenching my fists as I consider the unfairness of it all. “I never wanted any of this.”
“But it’s yours just the same,” my father replies, his tone reminiscent of the one he’d use in my early years, full of patience and tenderness. Looking over my shoulder, my father’s mouth turns to a deep-set frown as he urgently ushers me to the dark hole. “This gateway between the living and the dead is closing soon, and you must go back to your world. I’m sorry, Little Bird, for I do wish you could stay here with me. There’s so much more I wish I could tell you, but—”
“Now is not the time,” I deduce as a sharp pain twists in my gut. Deep red claws reach through the gateway in front of me, ripping through the air and ether as they search for my soul. A voice beckons me, whispering my name through the darkness. I turn my tear-soaked face toward the man I’d loved all my life, completely speechless as I reel under the weight of all his revelations. Then, saying nothing more, I allow myself to be plucked from the light by those vibrantly gleaming claws, the terrifying darkness of reality swallowing me whole.
***
“She’s coming around.” Drake’s gruff voice bellows over me, worsening my throbbing headache. He slumps beside me, his elbows perched on his knees, hanging his head low as though completely exhausted.
“Iris!” Cyrus whimpers my name, and when I turn my head, I see that he’s pinned to the ground by Suryc. The black Ddraig’s eyes are fevered, his long claws carefully securing Cyrus, preventing him from escaping or self-harming. “Say something to me, Iris!” Cyrus demands, and I can hear his crazed, mindless hysteria in his frenzied tone.
“I’m here,” I croak, my voice gruff and barely recognizable as my own. “Let him come here, Suryc.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Suryc questions, turning his skeptical golden eyes on me. “When we got in here, you were dying, and he was beating on your chest—”
“I was trying to keep her heart beating,” Cyrus snarls, struggling under Suryc’s unyielding claws. “I wasn’t trying to hurt her. I would never—”
“But you did!” Siri roars, cutting off my view as she steps between us, her silver eyes swirling with tears as she leans down to me. Smoke swirls from her nostrils as she carefully sets her chin on my stomach. Even without purposefully putting pressure on me, Siri’s head causes intense, agonizing pain in my chest. “I think a couple of ribs are broken,” Siri diagnoses while I gasp and try not to scream. “Clearly, there’s a limit to your skills.”
“Is she still bleeding from her neck wound? No! So, don’t gripe at me for leaving a broken rib or two,” Drake snaps, cutting his eyes hatefully at Siri. “The life-threatening injuries were all I could handle right now. I need to rest before I try again.”
“You healed me? How?” I rasp, surprised that Drake, of all people, would opt to save me. “Those red claws I saw in Death, was that Ekard?”
“Don’t say we never did anything nice for you,” Ekard grumbles, his deep voice resonating through my body. The vibration jars my broken ribs, and I bite my lip to keep from screaming. It takes me a few moments before I realize I’ve been using Ekard’s scaly side as my pillow.
“Apparently, I inherited some healing abilities when I became a Cadogan,” Drake mumbles, slumping over to sit beside me, leaning heavily on Ekard’s back too. “I wasn’t prepared for that gift to be so exhausting, though.”
“Thank you,” I mumble, desperately wishing I could ask Drake why he and Ekard would choose to help me. Ekard’s dislike of me and his longing to lead the Ddraigs haven’t been far from my thoughts. If anything, I’d have thought Ekard would opt to let me die, removing one more obstacle between himself and his goals.
“Well, I wouldn’t let you die, Iris.” Drake sighs exasperatedly, and I wonder if he somehow heard my thoughts. “Despite the feud our Ddraigs seem to have with one another, I do not wish you harm. And I told you I’d stand by you unless you made a move against me. As long as you do not purposefully pick a fight with me, you will have my allegiance.”
“I’m glad we’re still on good terms then,” I retort, wishing I had the strength to laugh. “I really do appreciate your efforts, Drake.”
“I know,” Drake smirks, leaning his head back on Ekard’s warm scales. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my Ddraig and I need some restorative sleep to make up for all this life-saving we’re doing.” His eyes droop closed, and he begins to snore almost immediately after he finishes his sarcastic speech.
Maybe I’ve misjudged them, I force myself to concede, hoping we really have reached a truce. “Suryc, where’s Cyrus?” I call out, wondering why I no longer hear his desperate voice.
“I’m here,” Cyrus whispers, looming up beside me, his face turned aside as though he waits for me to yell at him. “I’m so sorry, Iris.” He speaks the words, but it’s as if he is asleep.
“It’s okay, Cyrus.”
Cyrus turns to face me fully, his eyes completely black as he hollers, “No, it’s not! I killed you, Iris. If it hadn’t been for Drake and Ekard, you’d still be dead. Nothing about this situation is okay.”
“Cyrus, I do not hold any ill will toward you,” I reply, hoping I truly mean my words. With Cyrus’s eyes as black as night, I know his Asíle abilities will see through any lies I tell. I must pick my words very carefully and sort out my feelings later, I surmise, the agony in my chest making it difficult to breathe. “You were dreaming when you attacked me, Cyrus. I understand that you did not intend to hurt me. That’s all I was trying to say.”
Cyrus stands completely still, his black eyes harshly observing every word as it spills forth from my mouth. He cocks his head to one side as he watches me, waiting for some sign that I am lying. Yet I must pass his test, for, after a few heartbeats, his eyes fade back to their normal hue, and he mumbles, “You should blame me. The heavens know I certainly do.”
“How long have you been having nightmares?” Suryc thunders clearly displeased to only just be learning of his Cadogan’s troubles. “Why did you not think to tell me? I could have shielded your mind while you slept or helped you block out the painful memories that are plaguing you.”
“I don’t want to forget,” Cyrus confesses, closing his eyes and staring up into the cavern’s ceiling. “Blocking the past won’t help me get through it. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days depending upon you to protect my mind, Suryc. I have to learn how to cope with it myself.”
“But you don’t have to do it alone!” Suryc snaps, his long, spiny tail flicking in annoyance as he stalks over to Cyrus’s side.
“He wasn’t alone,” I intervene before the arguing can begin. “He had me, and now that you all know, he’s got you to
o.” Reaching up my hand, I feebly attempt to catch Cyrus’s fingers, fatigue weighing down my limbs. Cyrus hesitates, flinching away from my touch, the fear of hurting me filling him with terror even as a hopeful fire kindles in his eyes. “We’re going to get you through this,” I declare, a cough building up in my throat. It feels like someone is grabbing my spine and shaking me brutally from the inside out when I finally let out the wheezing hack that rattles my chest.
“I…I don’t think I can trust myself around you right now,” Cyrus admits, backing away from my side. He skulks toward the opening that leads deep into the Pith caverns, Suryc right behind him, muttering under his smoky breath.
“I’m not sure if I’m relieved that you’re okay or furious you kept all this from me,” Siri announces, laying down a few paces away from me. I’m still leaning against Ekard, and as much as I’d like to get away from the red Ddraig, I do not think I could handle the pain of moving.
“Siri, I saw….” My words trail off as I wonder for the second time what I should call the man I’ve always known as my father. Rather than speak everything aloud and risk letting Drake and Ekard know my secrets, I replay the key moments of my conversation with my father in my mind.
“Nothing, it seems, has happened by chance,” Siri decides, dropping her head down to touch the cavern floor as she processes all I have shown her. “Your mother put you in a difficult position, demanding that you betray your country before you even had a chance to decide what you wanted.” Siri turns her silver eyes to inspect me closely as she adds, “At some point in time, you will have to meet with the king of Déchets. If he opts to obey the laws of his land, then you will live. But I’ve never known anyone from that land to be that honorable, so I wouldn’t hold much hope.”
“I don’t care what happens to me,” I vow, Windwalker magic stirring in my veins as my emotions swirl with my conviction. “I am a citizen of Déchets, but I do not belong there. Cassè has been my home, but I don’t really fit here either. Wherever the Ddraigs are is the place where I truly belong, and I will live and die to protect it.”
Brood of Vipers Page 10
