House of Vultures by Maggie Claire (read my book TXT) 📕

get you back.” He lowers his lips to brushagainst my collarbone, exactly in the same place where he firstkissed me. It seems a lifetime ago now.

I have no words in myheart that Cane hasn’t already heard, so I stay silent. I take nocomfort in his touch. Already I can feel Siri’s love for Suryc asif it was my own, and the emotion makes me shudder as I examineCondor. How could I ever love a man whohad beaten and abused me so?No number of apologies can ever repair my back.Nothing can erase my memories.

“Go to the House ofPiranhas. Get them under your command. I freely give you my claimto the House of Vultures,” I announce loudly enough that the massesaround us gasp and mutter.

“Yours has got to be theshortest leadership in the house histories.” Cane’s eyes wrinkleinto squints as he tries to understand.

“And the least bloody, I’dadd.” Despite the humorous turn of my words, my heart is not in it.I do not have the strength even to smile.

Wolf seems to realize this, growingserious. “You want me to attempt to build a Master House? How willthat help us?”

“I see you becoming king,the first true king of the Déchets,” I reply, a feverish fireroiling in my blood. “Get the people’s support. Become theirleader, and then maybe we will find a way to change our fates.” Itis an effort to tear myself out of his gentle arms, even harder toshuffle close to Siri. How can I face thisfuture? My mind cannot fathom my actionsas I reach for Siri’s claws, letting her pull me away from my Housefor good.

***

When we finally drop into the craterof the Pith, I cannot find the will to breathe. Siri and Suryc setus in the heart of the giant cavern before wisely disappearing intothe catacomb-like maze of tunnels that offshoot from the entrance.I can feel their attachment to one another, and it makes me sick tomy stomach.

Condor—Cyrus, I should say—remainsclose behind me, waiting for me to speak first. Yet I have nowords. Everything I knew has been ripped away from me once more. Iam alone, and panic rises like my stomach’s gorge to mythroat.

“We should probably learnto at least talk to one another civilly.” Cyrus clears his throatwhen I do not respond. My hands wrap around my elbows for comfort.“Iris—”

Hearing my name gets a reaction fromme; I spit my words at him in vicious waves. “To you, I am alwaysMynah. Never say my true name to me again, understand? I hate you.I don’t care what Siri says—I am never going to love you. I do nothave it in me to become some moony-eyed sap for a liar like you.You abused me!”

“I never held the whip,Mynah! I couldn’t do it! I was never able to raise a hand againstyou—”

“But you didn’t stop hereither! I will never be able to forget that. So, do not playfriends with me now, you bastard.” How desperately I want to run myknife through his heart! The only thing that stops me is thethought that I might end up hurting Suryc. The black Ddraig hasshown me nothing but kindness so far. It’snot his fault he’s attached to a monster likeCyrus!

“It was a part that I hadto play to keep control, Mynah. It was just to remain theleader!”

“Which was my right too!You stole that from me, and while you might not have held the whip,every scar on my back was made with your approval. I will neverconsider you my ally, my friend, or my lover.” My hands pull at myhair in frustration. “Forget it. You just keep your space, and I’llstay in mine. We’ll do what we must for the Ddraigs, and that’sall!”

“And what about mybrother? He will never stop coming after you.” Cyrus’s shouldersslump in defeat.

“Good! Because when hefinds a way to free me of this binding, I will leave you behindwithout a second glance. There is nothing that you can say thatwould make me change my mind.”

Cyrus’s head raises then, hisunscarred eyebrow arching at the challenge. “Really? I bet I have acouple of words that could rattle your low opinion of me. See ifany of this sounds familiar: one day you will dance among the starswith your moonbeam hair trailing to earth to light mypath.”

Cyrus watches meexpectantly, his jaw working as a memory hovers in my consciousmind. A young boy and his brother laughing outside my house as theyfrolicked. The images are murky from the years that have passedsince I reviewed these memories. I’d neverbeen allowed to join them when I was growing up. But one of theboys had noticed my face pressed against the glass….

***

“Why so glum, chum?” Theboy called as he straddled a tree branch as thick as his middle.He’d stolen his way up a tree to my bedroom window. I’d beencrying; one of the many times that my mother and I had fought overmy freedom. I hadn’t understood the dangers lurking outside mydoor.

I had craved children’s conversation,so the chance to talk to the stranger pulled me from my sorrowsimmediately. “I’m not allowed to play outside, ever! My mom saysthere are evil things in the woods.” I tearfully explained my woesto the boy.

He did not laugh or think I wasstupid. “I don’t know about anything that scary, and I have livedin the forest forever.”

“What’s it like outthere?” I whispered, drinking in the sound of the other boy’svoice. He stayed in the tree as the sun danced across the sky andtold me of all the strange places he and his brother had roamed.I’d been so entranced by his stories that I had not noticed thestars popping into sight until the boy started climbing down thetree.

“I wish I could go withyou,” I moaned before the boy got away. He’d turned his face backto my window with a smirk, and said those exact words that Cyrusnow repeats to me.

***

No way. That little boywas kind. He was gentle and good, thoughtful and sweet. He came tomy window every day for a month. It broke my heart when he stoppedappearing in the woods. I’d always assumed something dangerous hadfound