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

It was then that Lyon realized the man was…missing pieces. Large chunks of his body were gone. Areas of his arms, his legs, parts of his hands. It looked as though the bandages were attached to nothing more than a skeleton, shallow and sunken.

A mask that had once been white porcelain covered his face. It was cracked and stained, weathered yellowish with time. Bits of it were missing, but the gaps revealed nothing underneath but darkness. One crack ran up his cheek from the corner of his mouth, reshaping one half of the stoic expression into a broken, jagged grin.

Lyon took a step back. Even shattered and corrupted as it was, he knew that mask. It wasn’t possible—it wasn’t possible!

“I’m dead?” The man looked down at himself and, taking a single boney finger, shoved it inside the bandages and…deep into his ribcage. “Heart’s beating. Which it didn’t used to do. So that’s nice. Small perk. I don’t think I’m dead. I mean…I was dead. Real dead, not fake dead like you. I was very dead. But then, so were you, if I’m not mistaken!” He yanked his finger out of his ribcage, and it dripped with black blood. The ichor shone yellow in the candlelight. “So, here we are, two dead men, saying hello to each other. Fancy that. Hello!”

“Rxa…”

“That’s my name.” He tilted his head back slowly, the half-grin of his mask mocking him. “I’m so proud of myself for remembering it. But I remember you. And I remember taking those marks off your cheeks when I skewered you on my chains. But here you are…alive. Alive, alive, alive. And…if I’m not mistaken…a king.”

Lyon didn’t move. He stood still, not wanting to provoke a thing that was clearly insane. “Yes.”

“King of the House of Blood!” Rxa laughed and then coughed with a groan of pain. His shoulders caved in as if he was in agony. “You’ve taken my throne, old friend.”

“Not by my choice.”

“Whose, then?”

“The Ancients.”

“Of course.” Rxa snickered. “Of course, who else? Who else would they make king except you—just to taunt me. Noble, caring, gentle Lyon. They’d pick even you over me.” He straightened his back, and Lyon heard a sickening crunching sound. “Ah. That’s better. Oh. Oh. No, it’s not. Hold on.” He twisted sharply, and Lyon cringed that time at the wet snap that followed. “There it is.” Rxa paused. “Why are you looking at me like that? Aren’t you happy to see me? You should be. We’re friends, aren’t we? Although I haven’t felt quite myself since Aon ripped my marks off my face!”

“I’ll remind you he only did that because you sent Lydia to the bottom of the Pool of the Ancients in chains,” Lyon replied, forcing his voice to remain calm, even if he was nothing of the sort.

But madness did not care much for any dedication to reason. Rxa snarled and turned before grabbing one of the wooden pews and hurling it against the columns. It shattered with a resounding crash, wood and splinters falling to the ground in a heap. “I was doing what should have been done from the start! She was an abomination! She needed to die. But I could not kill her, could I? It would doom our precious world that had so recently been restored. What other choice did I have? I do not regret sending her there to rot at the bottom of that lake for all eternity. May she stay there for the rest of time!”

“Your efforts were for naught. She is freed and stands as the rightful Queen of Dreams.”

Rxa paused for a long moment, and Lyon readied himself for a fight. Instead, the suffering corpse broke into hysterical laughter once more. It ended with a wistful sigh. “Oh, that’s perfect…my death was all for nothing.” He threw his hands up. “I thought the Ancients’ betrayal of me couldn’t be more complete, and you’ve gone and proven me wrong. My old elder sits upon my throne, my enemy was victorious, and the very gods to which I dedicated my entire soul abandoned me. And if that were not even more wonderful…here I stand now, like this. And for what? Why?”

“I do not know. We have only theories. That is why I am here, now,” Lyon said quietly, not wanting to provoke a man who was clearly teetering on the edge of—if not thrown clear over—the cliff of sanity. “I had hoped to pray to them. I did not expect to find such carnage. I did not expect to find…you.”

Rxa straightened his shoulders, before pain clearly forced him to hunch once more. “Well, I wish you all the best of luck in the world. I’m going to find somewhere quiet to go…stitch myself back together.” He sniffed dismissively. “Sorry for the mess. I’m so very hungry.”

Rxa hacked, coughed, and, turning his head to the side, pulled his mask off and spat a giant glob of flesh onto the carpet. It landed there with a wet plop. He replaced his mask. “I think Otoi isn’t settling with me quite right. Oh. Yes. I ate Otoi. Hope you don’t mind.” He coughed. “Greasy food has never been kind to me. Do you remember when Edu invented fried food? Oh, I was queasy for days.” He laughed with the joyful memory, sounding just a little like the angel that Lyon remembered.

“Why? Why did you do this?” Lyon glanced to the corpses, mourning once more the loss of those who served in his house. “It’s one thing to eat them—but you took their marks.”

“Mine were taken, weren’t they? Seemed only fair. The Ancients took everything from me. I used to be the pretty one…now, now I’m…a glorified carcass, aren’t I?” Rxa wavered on his feet and staggered into a pew briefly. He grunted in pain but pressed himself back to standing.

“You are a king still, it seems.” Lyon could sense it. All the kings and queens could simply feel the