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

“Which one will die, of course!” Alaric exclaims with a light, airy laugh, clapping his hands together a couple times. Then he leans down low, his voice falling to a ruthless, terrible whisper in her ear. “Doesn’t it feel good to know you hold their lives in your hands? Doesn’t it make you feel powerful, knowing you will decide their fates? We are gods among feeble ants, Helena. It’s time you start living up to your legacy.”

“I won’t do this,” Helena snaps, balling up her fists as she prepares to attack the king. She glances at the table, searching for the knife in her place setting. The dulled edge looks like it could barely break the skin of a tomato. Looking back at Alaric’s smug face, Helena decries, “This is barbaric, Alaric. I won’t sentence either of these girls to death.”

“Then I’ll bring Ithel out here, and you’ll watch him die instead,” Alaric shoots back, offering her a dangerous smile. “Will my brood of vipers be dining on one of these lovely ladies for their first course? Or should I send my guards—?”

“You are evil,” Helena hisses, lurching away from Alaric’s nearness.

“And you love too deeply,” Alaric replies, leaning over to whisper in her ear. “Don’t you see, Helena? You’re in this mess because you care too much. I can control you, string you along like a puppet, and manipulate you all because of your feelings. If you really want to be free of me, then let me kill Ithel. Get rid of love, and you’ll find true liberty. Otherwise, I’ll always hold the winning hand.”

Could I do it? Could I watch Ithel die after all he’s done to help me? Helena asks herself even while she tries to find a way out of this mess that keeps everyone alive. “I will fight in Amie’s place,” Helena counters, whispering low so none but the king can hear her proposal.

“Tempting,” Alaric muses, tapping his chin as he feigns to mull over her idea. “But no. I’ve already got my plans for you. Choose now, Helena. Or I’ll send for Ithel.”

“Damn you,” Helena wheezes, quickly assessing each girl in the ring to make her choice. The girl from the crowd is soft, Helena declares, staring at her fleshy, undefined shoulder muscles and dainty hands. She’s probably never had to do a hard day’s work in her life. She’ll never survive a fight, especially in such a flowing skirt. At least Amie is strong—all those days kneading bread, lifting heavy pans, and mixing large bowls of ingredients have toughened her. She stands the best chance. “I’m sorry…,” Helena begins, cutting off her apology when Alaric’s icy hand grips her shoulder. “Amie will stay in the ring and fight.” Helena’s lip trembles, her back going rigid even as a shiver snakes up her spine. “I choose Remy to die.”

“So be it,” Alaric agrees, waving to the guards to pull Remy out of the ring. Her parents wail as they watch their daughter being led over to the side of the hall where the viper pit waits. Tears flow freely down Remy’s face, her knees giving way as fear overpowers her senses. One of the guards picks up her limp form, carrying her to the edge of the pit.

“She paid you a kindness,” the guard whispers, gently setting Remy on the floor. “You’d have died a far more painful death in the ring. The vipers will make quick work of it.”

“Surely a real kindness would have been to speak out against this madness,” Remy accuses, facing the guard in a last, rallying defiance. Leaning around the guard, Remy shouts through the hall accusingly. “Why did you rejoin your father, Helena? Why do you no longer stand against him? He’s just a bully with a crown! When you defied him, you gave the rest of us hope. You stirred rebellion in our hearts, and now by returning to his side, you are condemning us all. You are a coward, Helena!” Before the guards quell her words, Remy faces the viper pit, exclaiming. “I will not be pushed into this death just to be silenced. I will not cower as I face my demise.” Remy’s mother wails, her hands reaching as she watches her daughter leap into the viper pit, spreading her arms wide as if she was freefalling into a river.

The snakes in the darkness hiss and slither as they coil around their prey. Within a few agonizing heartbeats, the sounds cease. Helena trembles, her face pale as she clings to the edge of the table to keep herself upright.

“You failed,” Alaric coos, echoing the words already rumbling through Helena’s heart. “You still chose your heart over your freedom. I still own you, my daughter. Not that I’m really complaining, but I do wonder if you’ll ever learn.” Waving his hand, Alaric sends for the next contestant who will fight against Amie.

He’s a swarthy, rangy looking man, and judging by his filthy appearance, he’s been locked away in Alaric’s prisons for a long time. “Give her a weapon,” Helena pleads with the king as the man advances on Amie with a wicked grin that exposes his rotting teeth.

“Now that wouldn’t make it a fair fight,” Alaric replies, clicking his tongue as if he were a teacher admonishing a wayward pupil. “If she wants to be the champion, she must earn it just like anyone else.”

The grimy prisoner snaps Amie’s neck within five minutes after he steps into the ring. She never stood a chance either, did she? Helena laments, biting hard into her lip to keep from wailing. Amie’s body falls between two of the guards; without any spoken command, they pick her up and drag her over to the viper pit.

“A winner!” Alaric announces, heedless to the soft cries from the spectators surrounding their tables. “Tell us your name, champion.”

“Thayer,” the prisoner barks, his voice gruff from years of shouting in the dank cells of the dungeon.

“Enjoy a moment’s rest, Thayer. Then