Mask of Poison (Fall of Under Book 1) Kathryn Kingsley (best e books to read .txt) 📖

“It is still a three-day walk. You want to herd them that far?” The woman groaned. “It will be worse than sheep.”

“Then tie them together if you worry about them wandering off. But we should take them to the Priest. He will know better what to do with them.”

“I see. Pawn things off on my husband as usual.” She laughed. “Very well. We will herd them there. I wish to see him, and if I have to drag these poor souls along with me, so be it.”

“They are mortal. They will need food and shelter.” Dtu turned to some of his fellow creatures. “Go and gather all you can find. We leave within an hour.”

There was a frightened murmur through the crowd, but the wolf silenced it as he straightened to his full height. Jakob shrank back with the others. Oh. That was why he crouched. He was terrifying.

More terrifying.

“I am Dtu, King of the House of Moons. I welcome you to Under. Your arrival here is unexpected. You find yourself now within a world of myths and monsters. To run is to invite death—for these woods are filled with creatures far less friendly than your drengil. You are safer with us than you are in the darkness. I recommend you come peacefully.”

The murmur of the group said they didn’t quite believe it. Jakob, for some reason…did.

His world had never been a friendly one. What did it matter how he died, after all? Whether from the teeth of a drengil or from the monstrous wolf in front of him, it was still death. At least Dtu could speak and…seemed reasonable. There was no talking down the dead or trying to convince them to leave him alone.

So, without anything else to do, he stood there with the others…and waited to be herded off into the woods and into this strange world of Under.

It was strange that he was smiling about it.

6

Lyon could not help but puzzle over the young woman walking at his side. Removed of her fear of him, she seemed much less on high alert. It helped to have someone to share the burden, perhaps. Someone she could trust.

And it was clear that she trusted little.

A shame it is a lie. He couldn’t imagine that Ember wouldn’t be terribly upset with him once he released her from his thrall. But he was losing time, and she was rightfully rather frightened of what had happened to her.

Being dropped into an altogether dangerous world as an unprepared mortal was unkind enough as it was before one considered the simple fact that she bore no mark labeling her as chosen by the Ancients for her fate.

It was not the first time an unmarked mortal had found themselves in Under.

But by the Ancients, he had sincerely hoped it had been the last. I can only pray that this goes more smoothly than Lydia’s journey. Yet, somehow, he sincerely suspected it wouldn’t.

Nothing in Under was ever so simple.

Nothing in Under was ever so merciful.

His mind was reeling, trying to make sense of all that had happened. Futile as it was, since he did not have enough information to piece together the puzzle that had been handed him, he shifted the pieces around this way and that in his mind.

A woman from another world. One that was not Earth.

That in and of itself was a revelation. While it was a common suspicion that there were other worlds besides Under and Earth, there stood confirmation on two legs. Had she come alone? He highly doubted she had brought with her just the statue in the cathedral.

There must be others.

Who else—what else—had come with her?

And how?

At least Ember had happened to land on his doorstep, and not someone else’s. He was far more patient with the fragility of mortals than most in Under.

At each approach of a stranger, she would reach for the hilt of her knife. Her posture was rigid and tense, and he wondered if she spent every moment locked in a perpetual fight or flight response. She had large, expressive dark eyes that darted this way and that as she examined every shadow, every alley, and every new person to determine if there was a threat.

The poor young thing.

She had enough dirt on her face that those who passed them might assume she bore a mark that was merely hidden. It was a stroke of luck that Lyon would take gladly. The last thing he wanted was for every curious soul to come poking at the mortal woman.

Most would simply be that—curious.

But some would be hungry.

I wonder if this is how Aon felt when Lydia was mortal.

How terrifying.

Someone dropped a door they were struggling to reset back into its jamb. It fell onto the cobblestones with a loud wham!

Ember yanked her knife out of her belt and held it aloft, her eyes wide, her stance rigid and ready to fight.

Lyon sighed.

“Sorry…sorry…” She tucked the knife back into her belt and shook her head. “I’m not used to being around a lot of people.”

“It’s quite all right. Come, we’re nearly to the Great Hall.” He did his best to smile reassuringly. It seemed to mostly work.

If he was lucky, the King of Shadows had a great deal of broken glass and mirrors to deal with in his estate, and he would not make an appearance at the Great Hall like he suspected all the others would quickly do.

They rounded the corner to the courtyard in front of the Great Hall. “Ah.” He paused in his steps to let Ember take in the whole of the building. Her mouth had fallen open, and she was gazing up at the huge, embellished structure in pure awe. He doubted she had ever seen anything like it. He couldn’t imagine there was much that resembled the Venetian gothic style of the Great Hall in her world.

He felt just a little bit proud of Under and the world around him. He did so much