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

mask to hide what she could only assume were the marks that showed how powerful she was. And who floated. And was blue.

She had no idea what to make of Maverick yet.

“Forgive me. Please.” The woman in blue bowed. “My name is Ini. I am the Queen of Fate. I meant you no harm. I only sensed you in distress and sought to ease your nerves.”

“I wasn’t in any more distress than usual.” Ember took one careful step back but didn’t relax her grip on her spear.

“That is exactly the point.” Ini floated back up into the air, her hair and dress swirling around her as though suspended in water. “I am sorry that I intruded upon your mind. Most of those who are from this world are familiar with my ability. They know not to take it so…negatively.”

“Please just stay out of my head. All of you.”

“As you wish.” Ini bowed her head again.

“Oh, you’ll listen to her, but not the rest of us?” Maverick hummed. “I see, I see.”

“Oh, posh!” Ini swatted at Maverick’s shoulder playfully. “You have not complained in centuries.”

“I dislike wasting my breath. You know that.”

Ember couldn’t help but watch their banter as though she were the only sane one in a room of lunatics. She wanted to scream. She wanted to stab one of them. She wanted to run. Cry. Hide. She walked to a bench a dozen feet away and sat heavily on the padded wood surface. Her knees were going to give out on her otherwise.

She was tired and overwhelmed, to put it mildly. She put the end of her spear on the ground and rested her forehead on her hands. She deeply wanted to sleep, but knew it was likely not coming anytime soon.

Someone settled down onto the bench next to her. Looking up, she expected to tell Lyon not to fuss over her. Instead, she found the man in the gray suit and the purple mask watching her with that austere expression. As if he were trying to figure her out just by looking at her.

She knew the type.

“Scientist?” she asked.

His lips quirked in a brief smile. “Indeed.”

“Great.” She sighed and sat back on the bench. She leaned her spear against her shoulder but didn’t let go of it. “You remind me of a man who trained me in the citadel where I grew up.”

“I don’t suppose that’s a compliment.” Maverick adjusted one of his cufflinks idly.

“It isn’t.”

He smirked at her, and she couldn’t help but smirk back.

Lyon and Ini were over by the wreckage of metal that had apparently once been “the Orrery.” They were talking in hushed tones. Now and again, the blood-drinker’s eyes flicked to her. Either because she was a topic of conversation, or because he was concerned she would either run off, or stab the man in gray next to her.

She was keeping her options open.

“Queen Ini means well. She is one of the most benign amongst us. Indeed, between her and King Lyon, there are no kinder souls in Under.” Maverick spoke with the cadence of someone used to giving lectures. She tried not to hold it against him. “You are safe with them.”

“I left a dying world of poison and rot…and have fallen into one of magic and monsters.” She glanced at him. “I’m skeptical.”

“You misunderstand. I said you were safe with them, not safe in general.” He crossed one leg atop the other, resting his ankle on his knee. “You are right to be concerned. Mortals in this world are exceedingly rare. And brief.”

“Thank you for not sugar-coating it.” She turned her attention back to Lyon and Ini. She shook her head. “I still can’t wrap my head around any of this.”

“You are handling it better than most do when they come here, if it is any consolation. But by the looks of you, it seems you are accustomed to a life of unexpected hardships.”

She looked down at herself, and then at Maverick. Her appearance and his couldn’t be farther apart. Her clothing was all salvaged, stitched-together, and designed for function over form. She was dirty. Her boots were a bit too big for her, but they were all she could find, so she wore them anyway. Her two-toned hair was probably a mess.

He, meanwhile, looked perfectly untouched in his gray suit and slicked-back dark hair. There was tiredness in his visible gold-toned eye, but other than that…he looked pristine.

“I guess,” she muttered, looking away. She hated being easy to read.

“You said your world was one of poison and rot. What precisely did you mean?”

“I—”

A scream tore through the Great Hall.

7

The scream echoed off the stone walls.

And then it was cut short.

Ember was on her feet instantly, charging toward the sound. She heard footfalls behind her, and knew she wasn’t alone.

It didn’t take long to find the source of the sound.

In a hallway just off the main room…she had her proof that she did not come alone.

Drengil.

“What on—” Maverick said from behind her.

There were six of them. Each looked as though it had been dead for some time. Their flesh was dried and flaking away. Or in some cases, it was worse—their bodies putrefying, leaving long smears of rancid liquid running down their tattered, stained, and ruined clothes.

Bloody teeth grimaced through missing cheeks and lips, the soft tissue having been the first to be eaten away by their predecessors or taken away by time.

Corpses. Moving, hungry corpses.

And they had found a kill.

The six drengil had descended upon their victim. A young woman in a blue dress, now turned purple and dark by the crimson that welled from her open wounds. The monsters were already ripping away at her, desperate and intent on sating the only thing they knew—hunger.

They had no weapons. They didn’t care.

It wasn’t until Ember had seen a drengil tear someone apart with their bare hands that she believed it was possible. That with just blunted teeth and nails that were more than often missing from bony fingers, a