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

doubt they have some established trade agreements in place with Déchets. So, how do we stop them before another slave shipment is made?” I wonder, turning our focus back to Wolf’s tyranny and traitorous actions. “I don’t want any more of our people being sold off like chattel.”

“But the enemy here is not a ‘they’ or ‘them,’ Iris; it’s just my brother. Cane is the only one responsible for this atrocity,” Cyrus snarls, turning an accusing glare at me. “And you put him in power, filling his head with all these fanciful ideas. He plays at becoming king because of you.”

I cringe under the weight of his words, knowing they are true. I have to clean up this mess. Take Wolf out of power before he even has a chance to complete the goal I set before him. “We’ll make this right,” I mutter softly, but my feeble words crumble like brittle bones until even I do not believe we can find a solution to the problems I’ve created.

“How many Cadogans did he sell to Déchets, do you think?” Bittern wonders, her fiery temper rising to color her words with hateful rage. The sight of her unmasked face covered in henna-like Dadeni lines still unnerves me. It gives her a wild, savage appearance that is only intensified by the resentment that never leaves her expression. “That man of yours is a menace, Iris. Can you bear it if we kill him?”

“He’s not her man!” Cyrus barks, a hand reaching toward his sword. “He’s a monster, and Iris would never choose him.” Cyrus steps in front of me, his eyes growing wild. “Especially not now. Right, Iris?”

“Well, you aren’t my man either. So stop fighting my battles for me,” I growl, standing up to challenge Cyrus’s outburst, wrapping my fingers around his thin shoulder. But though my words are harsh, my touch is gentle. When Cyrus whirls around to face me, the ghosts I see swirling in his eyes confirm my suspicions: his mind fights against an enemy that no longer exists. Can he perceive reality from the horrors of the past? Does he know he quarrels with Bittern and not the monsters that still plague his dreams?

I can hear Siri’s huff of disappointment rumble behind me, warm smoke curling around my limbs. Cyrus may not be your man yet, Iris, but he will be one day. Siri’s constant reminders of her bond with Suryc—and the inevitable end result of my coupling with Cyrus—only rankle my nerves. My opinion of Cyrus has drastically changed over these last few months: he’s not the sadistic asshole I once believed him to be. But I still cannot reconcile myself to the fate that Siri and Suryc have chosen for me.

Cyrus trembles under my touch, glaring at me as he prepares to argue his point. I can feel the tension in his bones like a coiled-up serpent ready to strike at its prey. Me, I shiver at the thought. He’s ready to attack me. Cyrus’s voice is a soft, deceptively calm growl. “Are you saying that after everything you’ve seen, after everything he’s put you through, you would still choose Cane? How can you be so stupid, Iris?!”

“Enough of this!” Fox interrupts the furious retort building on my tongue, Cyrus’s mouth hanging open as his hands begin to shake. “Your bickering solves nothing! And Bittern, we cannot dwell on the slaves already sold that might have belonged with the Ddraigs. There’s nothing to be done to save them now that they are in Déchets.”

“They’re probably already dead.” My head and heart ache with the memories of my last days at the House of Piranhas. Cane was acting like a madman. I doomed him by sending him on this mission to become the first king of Cassè. And I genuinely thought it was the right thing to do. What kind of monster does all of this make me? I have no answer as I expel a long sigh, closing my eyes in defeat. “I still can’t believe—”

“He’s a menace, Iris! You saw what he did to me! No amount of wishing could possibly blot out his sins!” Cyrus bellows, his hands lashing out to clasp my throat.

“Cyrus!” I whimper, my fingers clutching at his hands, desperately trying to break into his vicelike grip. “Please!” The word is hoarse as a dull, burning ache blossoms to life in my chest. Tears turn my eyes glassy, blurring the sight of his furious, feral expression. “Cyrus,” I plead one final time, forcing my body to stop fighting against his. Rather than claw at his hands, I run my fingers down his wrists in calming, circular patterns, willing him to see that I am not his enemy.

A second before I fear my world will black out, Cyrus’s eyes clear. He drops his hold over me, and I fall hard into the sand, choking and coughing on the clean air now scorching through my bruised throat. Cyrus stares at his own hands a moment as if he cannot believe he almost choked the life out of my body. Then, before I can stop him, he runs over to the cavern’s mouth, dropping into the waiting darkness with an uneasy grace.

“Are you okay?” Fox demands, his assessing eye carefully running over the bruises now purpling the skin under my chin.

“I wasn’t going to say anything about Wolf,” I croak, rubbing the tender spots just under my jaw, the accusing eyes of my peers boring holes into me. “I was going to say that I cannot believe we have made it this far without more losses than we’ve already taken.” None of the others seem convinced by my words, and even Siri looks suspiciously at me. It’s unnerving, and I feel my body tense under their scrutiny, my shoulders creeping up toward my ears.

“You saw only a portion of what he endured,” Grouse pipes up, shifting her body to be closer to Goldeneye for comfort. “It was awful, Iris. I…I still hear his