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

I hadn’t realized he was so tall, Helena muses, lifting her chin as she looks up toward Andras’s expressionless face. There’s much more to Andras than the bulky, dumb oafs Alaric used to hire to guard his palace. Escaping his custody will be far more difficult than I’d originally planned. “I’ve no doubt the outlandish stories the maids must have told about me are completely untrue. But thank you for explaining your methods so clearly,” Helena quips, forcing her feet to stay rooted in place, unwilling to cower in Andras’s presence no matter how intimidating he may be. Intimidation seems to be his weapon of choice. At least for now. Who knows when he will switch to a new tactic? Helena shivers as the small flickering flame of hope in her heart sputters and dies. I can’t let my guard down around Andras even for a second. Who knows if the man I see before me is real? Or is this another illusion, an image he’s created to deceive me?

“Oh, I don’t know,” Andras smirks as if he knows Helena’s innermost questions and backs away from her to lean against the window frame. “The maids had a great deal to tell me about your relationship with a certain jailed slave. Are you sure you aren’t interested?”

“Seeing as how I’ve was only freed from the prisons a week ago, are you sure the maids are the best sources of information about me? You’d get more accurate gossip from the guards,” Helena snaps, her temper rising. She presses her fingernails into her palms, fearing they will break the skin with her efforts to maintain her resolve.

Andras’s smile grows as he notices Helena’s discomfort. Sensing Helena’s weakness like a predator after its wounded prey, he presses, “Yes, that was quite a scandal too. The king’s daughter in prison for treason. Abandoning the man she supposedly loved and betraying her father and her people, only to be captured and dragged back—”

“Enough,” Helena growls, even though she recognizes what Andras is trying to do. He’s baiting me to test my limits, to discover just how much pressure it will take before I lash out at him.

“That’s all it takes to get under your skin? I’m disappointed,” Andras exclaims sarcastically, crossing his arms as he pretends to pout. “From everything I heard about you, I was expecting someone tougher. It seems you don’t live up to your reputation.” Andras’s dark eyes narrow, his head turning slightly as he assesses. “Unless you are purposefully trying to appear weak to get me to lower my guard.”

“Let’s talk about you for a moment, shall we?” Helena demands, speaking out before he gets the chance to respond. “All of the guards are required to take a shift in the prisons at least once a month. So how come I never remember seeing you there? What hell-hole did Alaric pull you out of? If I had to guess, I’d say you’ve angered the king somehow, and he’s using this as a punishment. Because let’s be honest, if I know my father as well as I think I do, he’s hoping this is a suicide mission. Or at the very least, that I’ll screw up and give him another opportunity to try and kill me.”

“Maybe I’m an assassin he’s sending along to kill you and the rogue Windwalker,” Andras teases with a tight, forced smile. He stands very still, keeping his gaze trained on Helena, daring her to argue.

Yet everything about his demeanor alerts Helena that she’s hit a nerve. His clenched jaw, his purposeful stare, and his tense posture all point to his deception. “Nice try, but I’m not buying,” Helena replies, feeling a sense of relief at finally being in control of the conversation. “The coming days will be long and boring, Andras. I look forward to hearing how you’ve fallen on the wrong side of the king.”

Andras opens his mouth to speak, only to close it immediately. Absentmindedly rubbing his chin, his brow furrows as he struggles to come up with a response. After a few heartbeats of silence, the guard’s face softens to his neutral expression once more. Glancing down at Amie, he says, “I’ll take her down to the kitchens and settle everything with the cook. No sense in spending all of today sparring words with you, Helena. We’ll have plenty of time to get on each other’s nerves tomorrow.”

After a surprisingly gentle awakening, Andras and Amie leave Helena in the empty infirmary once more. With nothing else on which to focus her attention, Helena’s thoughts plague her mind. Dreaded anticipation of tonight’s feast and the horrors it will hold builds with every passing hour. She replays her conversations with Andras in her mind, poring over the guard’s words and manners, searching for any more information that might give her an advantage. Wistful desire that Ithel was allowed to come with her to Cassè pierces her heart. “Andras is a wildcard, an unknown variable that I cannot predict or control. How do I protect our daughter from him?” Helena whispers, imagining Ithel standing beside her, his comforting presence soothing her raw nerves. “I don’t know if I can do this, Ithel.”

Hopeless, bitter tears drip down her cheeks when no answer comes.

Chapter 12

Wren awakens to the cacophony of clanging alarm bells and angry, cursing soldiers. He lays in his bed with his eyes closed tight, unwilling to let the sounds rouse him into movement. His head pounds excruciatingly, each sound from outside the tent piercing his temples like barbed spikes.

After saying his goodbyes to Lynx and her son last night, Wren had returned to his tent and set the scene for his alibi. He’d scattered his belongings haphazardly as if there’d been a fight. With his skinning knife, he’d cut a few gashes on his face and both sides of his hands. Punching the air in a fantastical fight, the blood splattered his belongings in believable patterns. Then he’d wrapped one end of a