Mask of Poison (Fall of Under Book 1) by Kathryn Kingsley (great novels to read txt) 📕

Deadpan, he lowered his hands. “You would be surprised.” When she grimaced in disgust and took a step away from him, he sighed. “A poorly timed attempt at humor, forgive me. We have no shortage of those who wish to join us in the act. It is not painful. Far from it. You are in no danger from us. I swear to you.”

“You’re asking me to trust you. Trusting people gets you killed.”

“And I have had every opportunity to harm you should I have wished.”

That was a good point. “You need answers from me.”

“Yes, that is true, but—”

“And what then? What happens after you have your answers?” She redoubled her grip on her knife.

“I…” He paused. “I do not know. I will not lie to you, Ember. This has never occurred before. I do not know what the other kings and queens will wish to do with you. But I would see you safe.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” He arched an eyebrow.

Ember wavered. Trust no one. “Prove it.”

“Prove what, precisely?” He tilted his head. “That I do not wish to harm you?”

“Yeah.”

He let out a long, beleaguered sigh. “Very well.”

Ember slipped her knife back into her belt. She smiled warmly at him. He bowed, holding out his arm as if to say, “after you.” And without hesitation, without question, she began to stroll along beside him.

“The power to hypnotize is a fascinating thing.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “Most who wield it tend to go for an ‘all-or-nothing’ approach. Commandeering a person’s entire consciousness to force them to do their will.”

“Oh?” She took a bite out of the sandwich and nearly cried again. It was so good! She didn’t even know what was in it. It didn’t matter. It tasted amazing. And it was actual food. Not whatever jerky she managed to scrounge up out of an abandoned building or what she could hunt and kill herself.

“I prefer a more subtle approach. People are not so hard to learn, with enough time and practice. Everyone has the same motivations, the same desires. Their responses to those things might differ, but the underlying core is the same.”

“Mmhm?” Her mouth was full.

“When I place someone in my thrall, I merely soften those responses. You still feel the fear that inspired you, but now, you do not raise your knife at me. You walk at my side. If I were to rewrite the fear itself, it would be far more intrusive. You would recognize the invasion, and possibly attempt to fight my control, requiring me to redouble my effort, which might cause damage to us both. Instead, I have simply removed your fearful response toward me.”

“I’m not hypnotized,” she said through a piece of sandwich.

“Oh, yes, you are.”

She furrowed her brow. “I don’t feel hypnotized.”

“Precisely.” He smirked. “I am simply attempting to prove a point. That if I wished to harm you, I needn’t do so while you raise your knife at me. Indeed, leaving you like this would be far more effective and efficient than letting you rail freely against our current predicament.”

“You like words, don’t you?” She finished off the sandwich, brushing the crumbs off her hands.

Lyon laughed. “I have been told I come in two extremes—silent, and very much not. I think my wife will like you very much, Miss Ember.”

“You’re married?”

“You needn’t sound so surprised.”

It was her turn to laugh. “Sorry.”

“My wife Kamira is…well, I am sure you will meet her soon enough. She is something of a firebrand.”

“Is she a…whatever-you-are? Blood drinker?”

“Hm? No. She is a shifter. She may change her body at will to more bestial shapes. She is the Elder of the House of Moons—elder meaning regent, or second in command.”

“Oh.” She tucked her hands into her pockets as she walked, looking up at the buildings around her. The streetlamps—those that weren’t broken—seemed to swirl with life. She paused to stare at one. It almost looked like they were filled with glowing insects. It was beautiful, like watching fireflies swirling at twilight, but much brighter and bigger. “Your world is…a lot to take in.” She jogged to catch up with him.

“Yes, I have been told as much.” He pondered her for a moment. “You are handling it all quite well, if I might say. Current hypnotism aside.”

“I’ve been trained to roll with the punches. My life is lived moment to moment.”

“Because of the drengil? The hungering dead?”

She nodded. “I’m a hunter. I was raised to fight them. Well, correction.” She chuckled. “Ash was trained to fight them. I was trained to heal and pray.”

“Oh? You’re a healer?”

“I’m a graedari.” She paused and furrowed her brow. “It’s hard to explain. I’ve never had to explain it before. Everyone just knows what a graedari is. Hunters are paired when we are raised. We are even named for it.”

“Ember and Ash. I was going to mention it.”

She chuckled. “It wasn’t my choice. Ash was a slahundur. A sword. A graedari is…like a shield, I guess. Both are used to protect, but just…differently. Mine is the sacred role. And his was one of battle and honor.”

“Was?”

“He’s…gone. He died.” She frowned.

“I am sorry for your loss.”

She shrugged. “It’s been almost three years. It’s all right. I travel on my own now, fighting the drengil and their plague as much as I can. And I pray that when I die, I might join my ancestors and celebrate a war we lost but fought well.”

“Your world was dying.”

She nodded. “There were so few of us left…most of the citadels had fallen. Sanctuary towns were being picked off, one by one. I don’t know how much longer we had until every life was extinguished. And that is what the Dread God was after.”

Lyon went silent for a long, long time. He looked troubled.

“What?”

“The arrival of the eighth altar, clothed in yellow. It signals that there is another Ancient amongst us. There is nowhere else for it to have come from, save your world…”

“Do you think—you think the