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

“I tricked Iris when we were still in the House of Vultures. I made her believe I was someone else she trusted, and she ended up taking a beating and spending some time in the traitor binds for all the things I learned from her. So, let’s just say that I’m not entirely surprised she’d leave me behind.”

“I see.” Wolf stalks over to the table, dropping into a chair beside Wren. When he speaks again, Wren can barely contain his smile, for the question Wolf asks only proves that he’s begun to trust Wren’s story. “So, for the sake of arguing, let’s just say Jackal is a spy. How am I supposed to catch him?”

Wren pauses, purposefully hesitating to answer Wolf’s query. Don’t be too hasty—a good answer given too quickly will make this seem like manipulation. He’s got to think my response is carefully thought out yet spontaneous to this moment. “Well, you already know that he clams up when you or I get close. And if you asked him about it outright, you know he’d deny it.” Wren holds his breath a moment, closing his eyes as if he’s lost in thought. “What if you let me watch him a while, gathering evidence from a distance? It’s what I used to do all the time, you know, and when I have something concrete, I’ll bring it to you.”

“Fair enough,” Wolf agrees, slicing off a piece of meat from the communal plate on the table. “Then I’ll decide what to do when we know for sure that Jackal’s a problem.” Cutting his eyes at Wren, Wolf adds, “And if I find you are lying about any of this, I will kill you myself.”

“Good thing I’m telling the truth then,” Wren sasses with a sardonic smile, clenching his hands under the table out of Wolf’s view.

***

Everything is bright white and astringently clean. Compared to the world I’m stepping into, I feel extremely grungy like I could never take enough showers to fit into this pristine place. Whispered murmurs catch my attention, but their words slip away from me before I can comprehend what is being said. My eyes blink but do not adjust to the light surrounding me.

Yet, the pain is gone. The blessed relief of finally being free of all my physical aches and emotional sorrows has come. I feel a genuine smile drawing up the corners of my lips, the first I have felt since the day I learned to fly on Siri’s back.

The memory of my Ddraig brings me a moment of nostalgia. Will she come to this new land? Will she be able to find me here? A Ddraig’s life is a long one. How long before I will see my Siri again?

Hard as I try, I cannot see anything clearly enough to move into this new reality. Turning my head from side to side, I scan the horizon, searching for the faces of the speakers I still hear close by me. In the process, I discover a looming darkness at my back, a shadowy hole that swirls and writhes on itself. I turn around to inspect this hole, a sense of foreboding gnawing at my stomach.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you, Little Bird,” a painfully familiar voice beckons me. Whirling around, I discover my father’s stormy gray eyes staring at me, a glorious smile lighting up his face.

“Father? It can’t be!” I wail, rushing over to wrap my arms around the man’s neck, his deep laugh rumbling through his chest, warming my heart. Then I feel stupid for my outburst, for I know that I have died in my world just like my father. Why shouldn’t I expect to see him again in death? “I’ve missed you so!” I sob into his shoulder, uncaring that I cry like a babe.

“I know, child, and I have missed you greatly,” my father replies, gently pushing me back to look at my face. “And I would love to hear all about how you gained these strange markings on your face and hands. Yet it must wait; there are much more important things to discuss.”

“Why? It seems we have all the time we will ever need now,” I surmise, glancing back at the dark hole behind me, feeling oddly calm at the realization that I have died.

“No, Little Bird, you must go back,” my father laments, looking a little wistful and sad as he leads me closer to the darkness. “The people over in your lands will need your help to defeat the king of Cassé.”

“But why? Why can’t somebody else step up and lead?” Immediately Cyrus and Drake’s faces come to my mind, and I explain, “There are other Ddraigs and Cadogans—”

“So, you have already found the fabled Ddraigs of the Pith lands.” My father laughs, shaking his head as he ruffles my hair. “Little Bird, you have made me prouder than you could possibly know.” Dropping his hand to my shoulder, my father sighs, patting my arm in reassurance as he continues. “I suspect you’ve also discovered that your mother still lives.”

“Yes, and she has Windwalker magic,” I recall, replaying the scenes of her escape shown to me by the wretched Carreglas, which the Ddraigs guard so meticulously and the Cassé king desires so zealously. It seems like another lifetime when I recall those first days with Siri in the Pith. “I inherited Mother’s magic too.”

“My darling, there is something you must know,” my father mumbles, his eyes full of regret as he presses on with his news. “Windwalker magic is only passed down through bloodlines where both parents are gifted. Not every child inherits it, but both parents must have the ability to wield it just the same.” My father’s hand tenses on my shoulder as he waits for me to comprehend his words. When I don’t, he gently continues. “And you already know I died the day of Cassè’s windstorm attack. I perished because I do not have those abilities.” After a few