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

Ancients. Something stopped their conversation in its tracks. Something big. Something glowing.

And something that disproved Maverick’s optimistic theory as quickly as it had come.

The Elder of Words let out a long, disgruntled sigh. “I don’t suppose you recognize that, do you?” He pointed up at the sky. He pointed up at a large, glowing moon that was just beginning to rise over the line of the buildings.

She did recognize it.

It was the first thing she had seen in Under that she knew as part of her own world. It shone down on the city in a sallow, yellowed, and sickly color.

They were not the only ones who noticed it. The passersby that she could see in the large city square all glanced up nervously at it, muttering to each other in hushed tones, pointing up at the yellow moon.

There was all the proof she needed that Gioll was dead. Everything she had ever known…was gone. She shut her eyes and lowered her head, fighting back tears. “I suppose I should start writing down my language for you, Maverick.”

Lyon’s hand returned to her shoulder. “I am so very sorry, Ember. I hoped that perhaps we could find a way to return you to your world.”

“No…it’s okay.” She swallowed the rock in her throat and, with a deep, wavering breath, squared her shoulders and raised her head. “My world was sick and dying. In our culture, we send those on the brink of death to the old gods to spare them their suffering. Gioll was shown mercy.” She paused. “I do wish I had some alcohol, however.”

Lyon chuckled. “That, we can assist with. Come.”

The rest of the walk to the cathedral was spent in silence. Maverick kept looking up at the yellowed moon with a shake of his head. Each time he did, his expression grew darker and darker. Lyon seemed to be taking it much better. Or perhaps the stoic man simply didn’t show it.

But something seemed to be troubling Maverick. She didn’t know him enough to pry, even if she really wanted to. It isn’t my business. We aren’t friends. He gave you the pocket watch out of pity. She kept her mouth shut.

Once they were inside the cathedral, she tilted her head in curiosity at a man who walked up to them. Well, perhaps the word wasn’t walked. Perhaps it was waddled. He looked crammed into a white suit that was clearly a few sizes too small for him, the buttons straining at the front. Something about him just looked greasy. A half mask sat on his face, strapped over the front from side to side, giving him a birdlike appearance.

“Otoi,” Lyon greeted the man dully.

“What is—I came at your call, and I find you missing, but instead find that”—he jabbed a finger toward the statue by the wall with the tattered yellow fabric on the altar—“instead! What is going on? And who is this?” Otoi peered at her. And then grinned. “Hello.”

“Um. Hi.” Ember took a step back from the man. She didn’t like how he watched her. His eyes were beady, and his stare reminded her of the packs of roaming survivors of Gioll that were known to do terrible things to people they came across. It was the stare of a man wondering what he could get out of her and at what price.

“Miss Ember needs a guest room. Will you see to it? The one closest to my chambers. I would like her to be provided with dinner, wine, and clean clothes. She will be retiring shortly, so I need it done immediately.” Lyon’s tone was still emotionless, but something about it made it very clear that there would be no further discussion.

“Yes, my king.” Otoi swallowed, bowed, and waddled away.

“Otoi is harmless,” Lyon said gently down to Ember after the little man was gone. “He is my elder. If he says anything untoward, please feel free to correct the situation however you see fit.”

“And I remind you, we do not die here in Under by normal means,” Maverick added with a faint smile.

Ember chuckled once and shook her head. “This is all too much.”

“At least you aren’t babbling and crying like some.” Maverick strolled across the room toward the yellow altar, his hands clasped behind his back. “I do get tired of their incessant whimpering. ‘When can I go home? Let me go. You can’t keep me here. This isn’t real. None of this is real,’ etcetera.”

Ember frowned. “I’m not surprised that people are upset when they’re abducted.”

Maverick only grunted in reply.

Lyon shook his head and watched the Elder of Words with a doleful expression. When she looked up at him questioningly, he shook his head. “A discussion for another time,” he murmured quietly.

“An ugly fellow, isn’t he?” Maverick tilted his head as he took in the statue in front of him. The stone figure with its rotted flesh and gaping skull grinned back in its silent threat. “Seems fitting that our new Ancient be even worse than the previous ones. I wonder how this one plans to ruin our lives and the world as a whole.”

Lyon’s jaw twitched. He ignored the comments from Maverick. “Come, Ember. Let me take you to your room.” He placed his hand on her arm. “The elder and I will have much to discuss, but you needn’t be privy to our political conversations.”

“I don’t think they’d make much sense to me anyway.” And a hot bath, a bottle of wine, and sleep sounds amazing. “Are we safe here?”

Lyon began to reply, but Maverick beat him to it. “As safe as we are anywhere. Which means no. Not likely.”

Lyon’s twitching jaw began again. He walked down the aisle of the sanctuary, motioning for her to follow him.

Hesitating, she couldn’t help but regard the man in gray thoughtfully. He was angry. But about what? “Maverick…thank you for the watch. And your kindness. I look forward to the tour of your library and telling you all about my dead world.”

He turned