Leaning heavily on the stone wall, I slide down its rough surface, uncaring if it tears my shirt or scratches my back. Curling into a ball, I wrap my arms around my knees as if this position can somehow keep me from falling apart. Leaning my head back against the stones, I let the tears building in my eyes fall freely, and I wonder if I’ll ever see a day when I don’t feel like the world is out to break me.
Chapter 10
I wish I’d told Lynx to run. I should have gotten her to the stables, hitched up a horse, and sent her and her son to the Pith. It all just happened so fast, and I didn’t think. So careless! Wren curses himself as he sits on the porch, waiting for Wolf to return from his attempt to spy on Jackal in his tent. Everything should work out fine, but I wish I’d taken the extra precaution just to be safe. If Wolf tries to attack that baby…. Wren shudders, struggling to still his nervously tapping feet.
Wolf stomps through the sand, tugging a long chain behind him. Jackal, Hyena, Coyote, and a few other faces Wren doesn’t yet recognize are manacled together, each one shouting and pleading their innocence. “Be silent, traitors!” Wolf demands, snapping the end of the chain back like a whip, uncaring which of the prisoners he hits.
Wren breathes a sigh of relief, raising his chin a little higher to portray confidence. “I take it they were plotting after all?”
“It seems you were right,” Wolf answers begrudgingly, wrapping the chain around the porch railing and locking it in place.
“It’s him!” Jackal accuses, snarling and spitting at Wren’s feet. “He’s the traitor, Wolf! No doubt he’s set us up!”
“Really?” Wren leans back on the porch steps, forcing himself to smile and laugh as though he’s just heard a hilarious joke. “Why would I—?”
“Because you’re still loyal to the House of Vultures! You’re a spy for Condor and Mynah!” Jackal shouts, the others offering their words of agreement.
“Why? Because I still wear this old mask?” Wren scoffs, shrugging his shoulders to emphasize his indifference. “Would you rather I try on one of yours and wear it instead?”
The implied threat of killing one of the prisoners is enough to silence them all. Jackal throws murderous glances in Wren’s direction, but no other accusations are made.
“Well, it seems I’m in a difficult position.” Wolf slumps into his rocking chair once more. “But I made a deal with you, Wren. You’ve gained my trust, and I guess these men will be added fodder for my funeral pyre.”
“You could do that,” Wren agrees, smiling at the way each man’s throat bobs, gulping down air as they face their death sentences. “Or, you could imprison them. Let me see if I can get any information about their plans and rout out any other traitors in our midst. Then, when your friend from Déchets returns, sell them off into slavery as you did with all the others.”
“Developing a squeamish stomach?” Wolf wonders, turning a suspicious eye on Wren. “Or are you feeling guilty because they are innocent after all?”
“Neither,” Wren lies, pretending to pick at his nails. “I just thought you could turn a profit by selling them. It seems wasteful to just kill them; you gain nothing in return.”
“Fair enough,” Wolf agrees, standing up from the rocking chair and trudging toward the door. “We’ll follow your plan for now. See if they have anything useful to tell you, then lock them up in the barn. I’ll send a message to Matthais that we have six more slaves for our Déchets’ king.”
***
“I don’t know if I should be proud or furious,” Siri grumbles as she plods up to my side. She stops right in front of me, lowering her head until her silvery eyes are on the same level as mine.
“Please don’t lecture me,” I whine, burying my tear-stained face in my hands. “I really can’t handle it right now.”
“Too bad,” Siri huffs, smoke whirling around me until I fear I’ll choke. “But I’ll wait until we get into the sky.” The other Ddraigs don’t need to hear us fighting.
“The nomads are ready to fly,” Drake interrupts, stalking up to my side with a tight smile. “They wait to move on your command.” I can hear how much he hates admitting the role of leadership belongs to me.
“Enomena, you and Lerual fly at the front. Keep sharp eyes on the ground for any signs of trouble. Drake, you lead the nomads out next. Cyrus and I will move last.” I lay out the plan, stroking Lerual’s chartreuse scales, smiling to myself as a deep hum of approval rumbles through her throat.
“What about us? Can’t we help you?” Goldeneye asks, Grouse nodding her head emphatically.
“I’ve been flying with Lerual since she has no Cadogan,” Grouse explains, looking hopefully into Lerual’s vibrant yellow eyes.
“If she doesn’t mind, then I’m fine with you riding along with her,” I concede, chuckling as Grouse squeals in delight and races to stand beside Lerual, jerking Goldeneye along behind her.
“I’ll stay with Drake,” Bittern offers, and I notice Nepsa leaning heavily against Ekard’s crimson scales. “I think my Ddraig has taking a shine to that red one.”
Oh no. I struggle to keep my face expressionless as I imagine Bittern’s tantrum when the Ddraigs tell her about the coupling bonds. She will take the news even worse than I did.
She already is partial to Drake’s company; I don’t think it will be as bad as you think, Siri interjects, her eyes following Ekard. At least the budding romance is distracting that red lizard long enough to keep him from challenging me. Be thankful; Nepsa’s bought us some more time.
After an hour, Cyrus and I are the only ones left in the Pith’s main cavern. “Ready to go?” Cyrus asks, holding out his hand to me.
“You and Suryc go ahead,” Siri commands before I have a chance to speak. “Iris and I have some things to discuss. We’ll catch up to you.”
“Iris?” Cyrus hesitates, planting his feet as if he will not move until I respond.
“I’ll be fine,” I offer half-heartedly, wishing it was the truth. I can feel Siri’s simmering anger as she stares daggers at me. “Go on ahead.”
As soon as Cyrus and Suryc clear the mouth of the cavern, Siri bellows, “Lady Vatusia tries to lure you into her lands, and you don’t think it’s important enough to tell me? I mean, I get why you kept it from Cyrus, but why didn’t you trust me?”
“We were already fighting about Cyrus and the coupling bond you’re so desperate we complete. I didn’t feel like sharing anything else that would cause a conflict,” I grumble, feeling a shiver race through my spine. What startles me the most, however, is that I’m enticed by the idea of binding myself to Cyrus, not repulsed like I used to be. He’s winning me over, I admit to myself, wondering how much time we have before the axe swings and the rest of my visions come to pass.
“Well, I don’t like it,” Siri exclaims, her pearly white tail flicking with her agitation. “The idea that Lady Vatusia’s been listening to your thoughts and guiding your visions to fit her agenda worries me. We’ve been basing our choices on the things you’ve seen, unaware that they might not be truth.”
“You think she’s altered my visions somehow?” I whisper incredulously, a mixture of terror and hope flooding my senses. “Is that possible?”
“If she’s powerful enough, and I suspect she is, Lady Vatusia could be able to see multiple futures that hinge upon the choices you make. She might be using this gift to lead you down the path she wants you to take. And you can rest assured, if that’s the case, she’s chosen the path that works in favor of her own best interests, Iris.” Siri sighs, lowering her head down to the stone floor.
I crawl over to lean against her sturdy back, savoring the warmth of her scales as it seeps through to my skin. “Lady Vatusia said something about me leaving my mind open. Does that mean there are ways to protect myself from intruders like her?” Immediately the cloudy sky I sometimes see through my connection to Siri springs to m
ind. “You use skills like what she’s describing, don’t you? You hide your thoughts from me behind some kind of clouded screen.”
“Yes, and it seems it’s time for me to teach you that trick,” Siri murmurs, a low, dull roar rumbling through her chest like a sigh. “Though I fear once you learn how to shield yourself, you will hide your thoughts from everyone, including me.”
“I wish I could say you were wrong,” I smirk, leaning my head back against Siri’s side, closing my eyes and pushing hard against the emotions roiling in my heart.
“Iris, you have to learn to trust me,” Siri scolds, smoke circling in the air. I imagine each tendril shifting into long fingers, grasping at my throat. Blinking the vision away, I shiver, feeling trapped and very paranoid.
“Trust does not come easy for me, Siri,” I exclaim, hugging my knees tight to my chest. “I am trying, you know.”
“I know,” Siri sighs, and I can hear the twinge of hurt and heartache in her tone.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, genuinely wishing things like trust, friendship, and love were easier for me. You don’t live in our world without having to harden your heart against those soft feelings, I tell myself, sorry to hear the truth in my words. “Siri, in the vision, I saw myself becoming Vibría. Is it possible—?”
“The Vibría are an abomination,” Siri answers severely, her words clipped and sharp.
“What I was wanting to know is whether or not the Ddraig involved in the ritual must die,” I press, my questions so full in my head that I cannot keep them unvoiced. “Alaric killed the Ddraigs over in Déchets, but that sounded like it was more for punishment than anything else. The Ddraig hearts had to be spelled to keep beating, so the Vibría didn’t die. So, is it possible for a Vibría to be formed without killing the Ddraig involved?”
Siri does not answer me for a long time. So long, in fact, that I begin to suspect she’s fallen asleep. The minutes tick by, and I sit there in silence, ruminating on my questions, determined to reason through to find the answers. I’m so engrossed in my own thoughts that when Siri does speak, I startle at the sudden noise. “To become a Vibría involves blood magic. The blood of the Cadogan and the Ddraig must be united; neither has to die for the ritual to be completed. Killing the Ddraigs was a terrible, unnecessary tragedy.”
“I pity the Vibría then,” I reply, a chill settling on my skin despite Siri’s warmth at my back. “Why are they considered abominations?”
“Hundreds of years ago, Ddraigs and Cadogans constantly willingly completed the rituals to become Vibría. Back then, it was as commonplace as the air we breathe. The warriors affected by the ritual became powerful, and with that power, greed and boredom grew. The Cadogans of old forgot their purpose. Rather than protecting the unchosen ones, the Ddraigs and Cadogans set up kingdoms. They expected the Ddraig-less people to treat them like royalty. That kind of desire for power poisons the heart, Iris. Wars and territorial disputes broke out. Eventually, the Vibría of old destroyed themselves in their fighting. After they all died out and the Ddraigs were hidden in the Pith, we all agreed never to turn our Cadogans into Vibría again.” Siri’s 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 toughened up.”
Helena bites her tongue until she tastes blood. She waits in silence, determined to gain a small victory in this battle of wills with her father. Clasping her hands behind her back, she refuses to move or speak until he answers her question.
Alaric huffs, his hands itching to slap that smug expression off Helena’s face. “You will meet Andras in the morning. I expect you to be gone before the sun reaches its midday peak. If you are still here by nightfall, you will join Ithel in the prison cells. And if you are still in Déchets by the next sunrise, there will be a death order on your head. Do you understand?”
Helena nods once, asking, “If you put a death warrant out on me, then how do you expect me to come back with the rogue Windwalker?”
“In the border guards, there is a man named Mattias. When you find the Windwalker, bring him or her to Mattias. He and Andras will bring the prisoner to me, and you will have gained the freedom you so desperately seek.” Alaric’s toes strike the stone floor impatiently as if he’s now the one anxious to begin a long journey.
“And what of Ithel? Will you keep him safe?” Helena wonders, raising her gaze until she meets her father’s wicked sneer.
Her heart plummets down to her toes when Alaric chuckles under his breath and responds, “So, you do care for him then?” Alaric leans over a nearby infirmary bed, making a show of examining a row of instruments laid out on the bedside table. “If you fail to bring the Windwalker to justice in six months, Ithel will die. Once I receive word of the Windwalker’s capture, I will release Ithel from his prison cell.”
Brood of Vipers Page 18
