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

He had been loved.

But it was all a lie.

Now, it was revealed for what it was.

Now, his mask was shattered.

Broken. Yellowed and stained and feathered with cracks and gaps in the surface. One crack made it look like a twisted grin on one side. How fitting.

It was really quite funny when he thought about it. He laughed, even if it hurt. His lungs were still mostly missing, and what was there was bleeding badly. Occasionally, he had to cough up ooze that tasted sickly sweet and strange. The thick black substance that came from his heart and lungs was disgusting.

Slowly, he peeled some of the bandages back from his hand and shuddered in pain as the threads pulled free of the sinew and tendons that were trying to grow.

He examined the raw wounds on his hand. Some of the blood there was crimson. But what came from his mouth was thick like tar and shone yellow in the light. Odd. Perhaps the crimson was what he had consumed, and the blackish-yellow gore was what it converted into once it was in his system?

Theories.

Whatever.

Didn’t matter.

He tied the bandage again and curled up on the floor, his mask still in his hand. He had a headache. Someone put a bullet in my head. That might be why.

That pale-yellow moon hovered over him, mocking him. It was the same color as the ink he could see forming on the one piece of skin he was growing on his arm.

He was the beautiful King in White no longer.

He sighed.

But he wouldn’t be the King in Yellow for long. Not if he had any say in the matter. He was going to gather himself an army. He would create more of those shambling squishy corpses that seemed to follow him around. He would destroy this world and everyone in it, once and for all. He would condemn the Ancients and all their creations to the void.

They should be grateful!

Better the void than all this pain. All this suffering. And for what?

The amusement of the Ancients?

What was the purpose of it all? Why let him spend five thousand years in service to their grandeur, only to betray and abandon him? Why was it all a lie? Why let him believe? To what end?

Their amusement.

All he had ever been to them was a puppet on strings. Dancing to their tune. Dancing to entertain their true son—their true favorite—Aon. That creature that was made mad by their absence, and only whole in their presence. He remembered the dreaded and cruel King of All. He remembered the sneer he would wear as he made them all bleed for his laughter.

This wasn’t the first time Rxa had been without most of his skin and organs.

But back then, it had still felt like he served a glorious purpose. That he carried worth. Now, he was nothing but a discarded toy brought back from the garbage pail. But why? Why him?

Why?

Why?

He didn’t realize he was shouting the word until he couldn’t do it anymore through all the blood in his throat. He turned onto his side, retching the gore onto the stone floor.

But nobody answered him. Nobody.

He was alone.

Alone. And alive. And for no reason at all that he could tell.

Curling on his side, he wept.

Ember leaned against the wall with her hand, her head lowered. She was used to running and knew how to steady her breath to keep from making herself sick.

Maverick, however, was clearly not used to such a sprint. He was busy being sick over the side of a railing into a shrub.

“You all right?”

He nodded and pulled out his pocket square to wipe at his mouth. “I am not used to cardiovascular exercise, as you can see.”

“If you’re going to faint, let me know.” She smirked. “I’ll drag you to safety. It’s the least I can do since you saved me.”

“I am not going to faint.” He straightened and took a shuddering breath. “And if I do, say nothing to anyone. My dignity would never recover.”

“Deal.” She chuckled. She touched the strap of her spear. Maverick had not only shot Rxa—downing the poor madman mid-word and sending him crumpling to the ground, but he had also fetched her spear and bag from her room. He had tossed them to her before they both made a speedy exit from the cathedral, heading toward the Great Hall. “Thank you for getting my things. How did you know?”

“I didn’t. I couldn’t sleep. When I heard a scream, I went to investigate and found nothing but blood and bodies. I went to fetch you and Lyon, only to find both of you already gone. I thought perhaps you might want your things if I found you alive.” Maverick began to walk down the street, if with a slight limp.

“Did you hurt your leg?”

“No. I am wearing dress shoes.”

She laughed and fell in step beside him. “Well, that’s what you get for wearing fancy clothes. Pretty soon, you won’t have to worry about it. You’ll be dressed in rags like me.”

“What a grand thing to look forward to.” He smirked down at her. “Now that we can speak, may I ask what transpired?”

“I don’t honestly know. I went to the sanctuary to pray to the Ancients—to ask them to show mercy toward my gods if they could. That man was there. We talked, and then…he attacked me. Lyon saved me.”

“Who was he? The man?” Maverick furrowed his brow. “He wore a full mask.”

“He said his name was Rxa. Lyon seemed to recognize him.”

Maverick let out a long, colorful, and angry string of obscenities. And once again, he began to run in the direction of the Great Hall.

With a shrug, Ember followed.

Rxa awoke, not realizing he had fallen asleep again. He hadn’t even realized he could sleep, to be fair. He jolted and thrashed and expected to find himself in a jail cell or a cage. Maybe chains would bind him