Brood of Vipers by Maggie Claire (good books for high schoolers .txt) 📕

it,” Cyrus finally decides, turning a dubious expression on me once more. His eyes narrow as he watches me squirm under his gaze, and he growls, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“What do you mean?” I turn my face up to the cavern’s entrance, so I do not look down and draw attention to my soiled clothes. I’m a mess. Gods, this is revolting!

“Well, what you described is a self-fulfilling circumstance and completely out of your control. You can’t anticipate how a vision is going to be triggered without knowing the future, right? And you won’t know the future unless you use your Gwen abilities.” Cyrus pauses as I try to wrap my brain around his explanation. “Your mind couldn’t know you needed to see blood to trigger a vision unless you already knew the future. It’s circular logic, don’t you see?”

“It’s a paradox,” I agree, nodding my head as I untangle the web of emotions in my mind like a ball of yarn that’s been used as a cat’s plaything. “I can’t know the future and be walking blindly into these visions at the same time. I get it.”

“So, whatever triggered your powers had to have been more complex than just seeing blood.” Cyrus nods. “Similar circumstances aren’t enough, so what else could it be?” When I do not answer immediately, Cyrus stands and begins pacing back and forth in front of me. He prattles on under his breath, and I use his distraction to handle my appearance.

I stumble on my shaky feet when I stand, but Cyrus is too preoccupied by his thoughts to notice my movements. In the corner of the cave, a small pool bubbles up from a cold spring. My body quakes as I strip off my soiled clothes, slipping into the freezing waters as soon as I am naked. The water is arid, gliding across my skin in waves that feel more like foam than fluid. I let the roiling frigid waters rinse away my embarrassment. My tears slip down my face; I hide my exhaustion in the springs. The water takes my secrets, easing them out of my heart as if I were bearing my soul to a close confidant. I won’t even consider rising from the springs until my body and heart are numb.

“I think your gift is tied to your emotions!” Cyrus cries out in excitement, searching the ground where I had been sitting. “Iris? Where’d you go?”

I consider not responding, but his idea intrigues me. “Take off your shirt and turn around,” I demand, waving a hand to alert Cyrus to my place in the bath. “Just toss it over your head, and I’ll come pick it up.”

Cyrus gulps, eyes wide as he realizes I’m washing in the springs. He scrambles to follow my wishes, his fingers trembling as he tugs at the buttons holding his shirt closed. I should probably feel some deeper level of mortification at our situation, but I’m just too exhausted to care anymore. Cyrus tosses me his shirt as I requested, immediately turning away so I can move freely.

The fabric is mixed with wool, making it a little itchy as it rakes across my arms. Still warm from Cyrus’s body, I shiver as my skin absorbs his heat. “Now, what do you mean about my emotions triggering the visions?” I mumble, trying not to appear as flustered as I feel. Something about wearing his clothes feels too intimate, like another line between us has blurred, and no matter what I do, I’ll never be able to erase the damage I’ve done.

“I….” Cyrus stumbles on his words as he faces me. His eyes drift down my frame, studying my damp hair and the way his shirt clings to my skin. It’s a struggle not to fidget under this scrutiny. Sensing my discomfort, Cyrus clenches his fists and clears his throat to speak once more. “What were you feeling when the vision overtook you?”

My thoughts drift back over the moments before I was swept into the nightmare. “I was feeling exhausted and nervous. I was worrying over you, specifically your presence here to watch my training. I was afraid I would make another foolish mistake, and you’d see it.” My cheeks flush red, and I bite my tongue to keep myself from talking anymore. Feelings have never gotten me far in this world and admitting to any type of weakness only leaves me vulnerable. Even with Cyrus, I should be careful.

“And how did you feel in the vision?” Cyrus questions, no sign of judgement at my explanation. Not even any trace of hurt flickers in his expression when he hears me say I did not want him around during my training. Instead, he presses for more information with an almost clinical detachment. “Were your feelings the same or different from the beginning of the vision?”

Exhaustion, nervousness, worry, and fear. I tick of the emotions on one hand as I replay the vision. “They were the same,” I exclaim, a question immediately popping up to my lips. “But…how does that help me, Cyrus? Am I supposed to force myself to feel something if I want to see a vision?”

“I…I don’t know,” Cyrus murmurs, rubbing his chin as he processes the information. “But at least it’s a start.”

His calmness annoys me, and I cannot stop myself from lashing out. “Really? Because all I hear is that we are going in circles. Even if our abilities are connected to our emotions, that still leaves us with no means of controlling what we see. If anything, we’ve just damned ourselves to never understanding our gifts.” Emotions are dangerous, prowling beasts that hide in the lairs of our hearts and attack at the worst possible moments. They are unstoppable, uncontrollable, and unyielding.

Cyrus pauses, turning to face me, a flash of concern causing his mouth to turn into a deeper frown, “Look, I get that you’re frustrated, but—”

“No more,” I plea, my mind swimming with too many questions to process at this time.