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

time, his gleeful voice taunts me as my sight begins to fade, “And to think, you wasted all of your effort to save your country only to end up dead anyway. Funny how things turn out, isn’t it?”

“Iris?” Siri’s concerned voice rips me from the vision. When my eyes focus on her scaly form, I wrap my arms around her leg, assuring myself that she is not a figment of my imagination. Her warmth seeps into my bones, and a strangled cry erupts from my lips. I cling to my Ddraig like a child crying on her mother’s shoulder after a painful fall. “Iris, what did you see?” Siri whispers patiently, her body shifting until she forms a protective circle around me.

“It was awful!” I bellow, my teeth chattering as the shock of the events finally loosens my tongue. “If that was the future that awaits us, Siri, I can’t bear it.”

Siri’s eyes widen as she reads the vision through our shared memories. “Perhaps it is best that you continue to hold out against Cyrus’s advances. As long as you two aren’t a couple, we aren’t creeping closer to this end.”

“Cyrus!” I gasp, recalling how it felt to watch him die. “My gods, that was horrible. If watching me die at the hands of the Vibría caused him to suffer even a fraction of what I just endured, then I understand why he hates them.” Dropping my hold on Siri’s leg, I clamber over her tail, frantically searching the gathering crowd of Cadogans for Cyrus’s familiar face.

“Iris? Hey, let me pass,” Cyrus demands, shoving his way through the onlookers to get to my side. “What happened? Where is she?”

A relieved sob tears through my chest as I rush toward my infuriating, complex, flawed friend. I don’t care that we’d been fighting only a few heartbeats ago or that I’d clearly refused and rejected his love. All I know is that in this moment, nothing will satisfy me but to hold him close, assuring myself that he’s alive.

Cyrus does not hesitate to wrap his arms around me. “What’s wrong, Iris?” he whispers into my hair, laying a soft kiss on my brow as he rubs small circles on my back. “What did you see?” he wonders, silently comprehending that I must have had an upsetting vision.

“I watched you die,” I whimper between sobs, wrapping my arms tight around his neck. “Cane slit your throat, and I couldn’t save you.”

“The fact that you’d even want to means all the world to me,” Cyrus replies, his voice lifting with his smile.

“Oh, don’t joke!” I snap, wiping my tears on his shirt.

“I wasn’t,” Cyrus rasps, and my heart breaks all over again.

Looking over Cyrus’s shoulder, I scan the faces of many concerned Ddraigs and warriors alike. The words of Lady Vatusia echo in my thoughts, and I wonder how many of these people will die if we must fight against the forces from Déchets. Between the Windwalkers, the Vibría, and the king’s trained army, we won’t stand a chance. No amount of preparation by a ragtag leader with no military background could ever prevail against such odds.

But there is another way, a traitorous thought shivers through my mind. Take the Lady Vatusia up on her offer; go to Déchets as a spy. Take down your enemy’s organization from the inside out if possible.

I cling a little tighter to Cyrus, wishing I never had to let go. It would be so much simpler if we could just live out the rest of our days in the Pith caverns, content with our Ddraigs and each other. Yet the faces of the nameless unchosen and the knowledge that my people are living as slaves in Déchets is enough to rip this dream to shreds long before I can make it a reality.

“Cyrus, there’s something I didn’t tell you,” I whisper, knowing what I have to say will anger him once more. “And I think now’s the time we have to consider it—it might be the only way to save everyone.”

Chapter 9

“Just the man I wanted to see,” Wren calls out as he trots up to Wolf’s perch in the rocking chair on the porch. A wave of revulsion roils in his stomach. The scent of burning flesh still carries in the air, and the burning pyre still smolders. No matter how much time passes, Wren fears that the taint of unjustified death will forever stain this stretch of land. Speaking to the man who caused all that useless destruction is even harder to bear. Lying to him, however, is a far more satisfying endeavor, Wren reminds himself, swallowing his own emotions long enough to carry out his deception.

“This better be good,” Wolf grumbles, leaning back against the rocking chair’s headrest, carefully keeping the wooden form from moving even the slightest inch. “I’ve got a terrible headache, and I’m in no mood for petty grievances.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Wren replies, struggling to keep his words from sounding sarcastic. “But I thought you’d want to know that I saw Jackal meeting with two of his cronies, and judging by the intensity of their conversation, I think they were plotting something.”

That idea causes Wolf’s eyes to open wide despite the splitting agony that splinters his skull as the sunlight fills his view. “You think they are planning a coup? You really believe they seek to overthrow my reign even before it’s fully begun?”

“I do,” Wren admits, hiding his smile behind his hand, rubbing his face as if he’s deep in thought. “But why take my word for it? Go and see for yourself. The three men were sitting by the campfires closest to Jackal’s tent.”

“I doubt they’d be so bold to plot a mutiny out in the open in a campsite not even fifty feet from me,” Wolf exclaims, his eyes drifting closed even as his mind grows more alive and active with the idea of the possible threat. “Who was with Jackal in this supposed meeting?”

“Hyena,