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

“And you have always been mine. My heart chose you long ago. I’m only sorry it’s taken me so long to listen. Whatever the future holds for us, I know I cannot keep fighting against you. The thought of losing you only brings me more anxiety and trouble.” My voice wavers as I whisper his name, my fingers pressing softly to his lips to silence him. “So, don’t go, Cyrus. Because I love you.”

Pain radiates through my arm, shock appearing in Cyrus’s eyes as he startles away from my touch. The ivory, crisscrossing lines of my Dadeni bond with Siri come alive, glistening with a molten fire. The initial spark of the fire in my skin fades to a dull, slow burn. Fascinated, I watch as thin slivers of silver, scale-like markings bleed out of my fingers into the air. They shift and blend before my eyes like smoke. Beside me, Cyrus has a similar peculiarity, the only difference being the color of the smoky apparitions before him.

“What is this?” he wonders as the whiteness of my Dadeni lines swirl with the darkness of his. Everything slows when they touch, and I feel a flare of pain as the dark smoke writhes onto my skin, twisting like gnarled branches, knotting itself into the remaining silver binds on my arms. On Cyrus, I see my silver threads like spider silk caught on the dark brambles of his remaining marks. The scar on his face glows with my silver fire, and I wonder if he shows somewhere on my face too. It is over in a moment, the pain like the shadowed pressure from a burning kiss.

“My heart chose you,” I repeat the sentiment even as I hear Siri’s heavy footfalls crashing up in the grass behind me. “I believe that was the coupling bond Siri’s been hounding me about.”

“And I can’t believe I missed it!” Siri howls, silver sparks of fire erupting all around us in her excitement.

“Stop that, or you’ll start a wildfire!” I admonish with a laugh, captivated by the way the fire glitters in Cyrus’s eyes.

“I’m going to tell the others Ddraigs; we have much to celebrate tonight,” Siri announces, practically trotting like a dog as she hurries off to complete her chore.

“What about you, love?” Cyrus asks with a crooked smile. “Off to celebrate or plan for tomorrow’s troubles?”

“We still have a lot to do,” I agree, trying not to laugh as Cyrus’s face grows somber. “But I think the worries and burdens we carry can wait another night. What do you think?”

Cyrus’s soft chuckle and answering kiss is all the reply I need.

***

Helena’s eyes fly open with the rising sun, her heart pounding forcefully in her chest. The strength of the spasm is such that her lungs will not expand. She desperately claws at her throat, digging her fingernails into her skin as if she intends to burrow into her trachea and release the spent air poisoning her lungs. Burning, lancing pain erupts through her nerves, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. It’s as though her body is being struck repeatedly by lightning, and each strike grows in intensity as breathless seconds pass.

Until, finally, her autonomic senses retake control. Helena gasps wildly as fresh air enters her throat, rolling off the infirmary bed onto her hands and knees. A single, terrified sob racks through her as she struggles to calm down. Seconds drag into agonizing, slow-passing minutes before Helena feels strong enough to move. She crawls her way back onto the infirmary bed, sitting upright on the edge of the mattress.

“I was dreaming,” she realizes, turning her head to inspect the surrounding sick beds, searching for any signs of life in the room. Finding no one, Helena lays her head back on the pillow, wiping a hand across her cold, sweat covered brow.

It was so real, Helena whimpers as she recalls her dream, a shiver shuddering through her bones. I was crouching on the floor between two nameless guards, kneeling before Alaric and a strange man I’ve never met. Ithel was across from me, a grim, hard look of determination on his face. He seemed to stare over my head as if he could not be bothered to notice me.

Doors opened at the back of the room, and I watched in horror as my daughter was dragged before the king. She was beaten, and not just in a physical nature. While her face and arms were covered with purplish bruises, it was the empty look in her eyes that really pained me. It was like staring into the eyes of a long-dead ghost. I called out to her, but she did not react. She was so far lost in her grief and agony that I’m not entirely sure she could hear me.

She offered no resistance as the guards jostled her into a standing position. She spoke not a word as Alaric taunted and teased her, his words incomprehensible to my ears. But I clearly heard the scream burst from my throat the moment Alaric released Ithel, giving him one simple command. “Kill her,” Alaric declared with an airy wave, turning his back on the scene as he marched back to his throne.

“She’s your daughter!” I tried to shout before one of my guards clamped his meaty hand over my mouth. I bit into his thick fingers, but my teeth couldn’t cut through the hardened callouses of the warrior’s hands. No matter how hard I fought, I could not break free. I could do nothing but watch as Ithel unknowingly choked the life out of his own daughter.

Helena whimpers, clenching her eyes tight against the memory. “It was just a dream,” she repeats nervously, the words sounding hollow and flat to her ears.

With the sunlight bursting through the window and the memory of the nightmare still clinging to the surface of her mind, Helena knows she will sleep no more this morning. Sighing, Helena moves away from the bed, dragging a ragged