Brood of Vipers Maggie Claire (mobi reader .TXT) 📖

you’re afraid, Iris. Believe it or not, I am too. But we can’t let our fears keep us from moving forward.”

“Even if moving forward leads us to our inevitable death?” I murmur, my fingers toying with the ends of Cyrus’s hair at the base of his neck.

Cyrus pauses, and for a moment, I suspect my words have finally talked some sense into him. Strangely, though, all I feel is melancholic regret, and I wish I could rewind time and just keep my mouth shut. Then, Cyrus tightens his hold on me, leaning his head down until our foreheads touch as he lovingly replies, “I’ll face any future that comes, Iris. As long as you are by my side. As long as you are open and honest with me. You already hold my heart; you always have.”

Speechless, I lean my head onto Cyrus’s chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat soothe me. However, the longer I stay in his embrace, the more I know I cannot bear to let him die. When did he become such a vital part of my life? I wonder, reflecting back on all the troubles we’ve endured in the past. Somewhere along the way, affection snuck its way into my heart, stealing into my veins so subtly that I never noticed its presence. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you,” I whisper, wrapping my arms a little tighter around his middle.

So, a decision is made? A foreign voice slithers into my thoughts. You will come to Déchets to spare this man and your Ddraigs?

Vatusia? How long have you been in my head? I inquire, my blood chilling in my veins at the thought that she might have been a silent witness to all my decisions so far. Worse still, a sudden fear gnaws its way into my brain: does Lady Vatusia have any power to influence my decisions or visions? Has she been pulling the strings, controlling what I see, leading me to make this choice?

Is it my fault that you leave your mind open so anyone can walk in? Vatusia’s strange hissing laughter buzzes in my ears. I notice she completely ignores answering my question as she presses, Have you made a decision, child?

Are you sure it’s the only way? I stall, trying to make up my mind in a moment on a question that has kept me indecisive for days.

The only way? No, child. There are many ways this war could be fought. But is this the only way to ensure that your man and your Ddraigs survive? Perhaps. Lady Vatusia answers me cryptically, and my suspicions take deeper root in my heart.

“Iris? Are you okay?” Cyrus whispers, pulling away from me enough to look into my eyes.

“She’s here,” I rasp, my hands knotting my hair as if I could somehow claw her foreign presence out of my head. “I hear her voice in my head, asking me if I’m coming.”

The vision of Alaric’s throne room fills my sight. This time I stand on a blood-red carpet, pillars of polished marble holding the high ceilings over my head. Alaric sits on a raised platform, his throne made to resemble a viper’s open maw. As I step out of the shadows, he smiles. Wolf stands on Alaric’s left side, Lady Vatusia at the king’s right hand. She watches me as though my approach bores her. Wolf, on the other hand, bounds down the steps and pulls me into his arms, burying his face in my neck. “I knew you’d come to your senses,” he mumbles, kissing his way up my jawline.

“Did you bring what I asked?” Alaric demands, his voice tight with impatience.

“I did,” I reply, my voice sounding strange to my ears. It resembles my pitch and timbre, but something’s different. There’s a soft rumble in my throat I’ve never heard before. Hesitating, I look down at my hands. Where I should see white Dadeni lines crisscrossing my skin, I discover that I now have pearly, shimmering scales that adorn my arms like expensive white gloves. My fingers now bear sharp, black claws for nails.

“I’m Vibría ,” I gasp, backing away from Cyrus as the vision fades. “She wants me to go to Déchets and become Vibría .”

I see that you are still not ready, Vatusia whispers in my thoughts, cutting off my ability to hear Cyrus’s reaction to my outburst. Her tone is grim and full of sorrow. Your time is drawing short, child. I see a sacrifice in your future; maybe then you will realize I am right.

“Iris? What’s happening now? Iris?” Cyrus’s persistent voice hammers into my mind as Lady Vatusia severs her connection to me.

“She’s gone for now,” I shudder, wondering how long it will be before she speaks to me again. “But I think she gave me a warning. Trouble is coming, Cyrus. We need to get the Ddraigs and get out of the Pith. We have to face the threat head on, somewhere we choose.”

“I’ll get Enomena and Drake to round up everyone,” Cyrus replies, all traces of tender emotion fleeing from his expression. Before me stands no longer a timid, unsure lover; now I see the battle-hardened survivor I’ve always known. “We’ll get them ready tonight and fly in the morning.”

“Where? Where do you think—?” My words die out as I recall the house of my childhood. Its rickety form sat on the edge of a forest a few miles from the Devil’s Spine. “Home. We have to go back to my home before the windstorm all those years ago.”

Cyrus pauses, considering my suggestion. “The open fields would be decent enough for a battle. And we’d be in a perfect position to see when Windwalkers or fighters from Déchets cross into our lands. We could hide in the forest or in the caves….” Cyrus falls silent as well, the memories of our childhood days so distant and ethereal that they hardly seem to be anything more than an elaborate dream. “Home,” he whispers, and a