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

see,” Cane mumblesas he slowly draws his knife from its sheath. I cannot tear my eyesaway as that knife rips through Cyrus’s face. Part of me watches indetached fascination as the skin over his eyebrow splits.How did that blade miss hiseye? Only by thegrace of the gods! Blood oozes sluggishlydown his cheek, his hands moving in slow motion to push feeblyagainst Cane’s chest. The unrelenting blade continues down theopposite cheek, stopping just before the major artery in Cyrus’sneck.

A wild part of me screams and throwsmy hands into the image, temporarily distorting the view. It doesnothing to stop Cane’s voice as he mocks his broken brother. “Willshe care for you now with your ugly face? Best to just let go,brother. Just die! It will be better for us all.”

Cyrus’s body convulses as the shockand blood loss take their toll. He thrashes on the ground at Cane’sfeet.

“I am truly sorry, Iris,”whispers the voice of the Carreglas.

“I cannot believe it.”Cyrus had not always been the hateful creature I’ve believed him tobe. And Cane…my mind cannot handle his brutality andjealousy.

“That’s a lie!” theCarreglas howls, her ethereal hands reaching over to my chest.Though her fingers slide right through my body, I can feel theirpresence in between my ribs like splinters. Every inhale rakes herfingers across my bones, and it feels like glass claws ripping meapart from the inside out. “Speak only truth to me,girl!”

“I….” Blood and spitdribble down my chin as I tremble. “Cyrus was telling the truth. Icannot believe he was the little boy from my past.”Gentle, kind, considerate; in these memories heis everything good in this world. And Cane…my Cane is amonster.

“Better,” the Carreglasvisage whispers, slowly extricating her fingers from my body. “Youwonder, I think, why I should be so stern in my reaction to yourwords. However, for someone who claims to desire truth, you seemdetermined to blind your eyes.”

I slowly sink to the ground, waitingfor my heart to stop its thundering pace in my chest. “I will notapologize for my opinion of Cyrus. As a man, surely you must seethat he acted abhorrently; surely you agree on this.”

“There is still much foryou to see, Iris. And I do not take sides of judgment,” theCarreglas mutters, swirling around me like a wisp ofsmoke.

“I do pity Cyrus the boy.He did not deserve what he endured. But why did he grow up to hateHawk? And when did Hawk hurt him? I remember Cyrus showing a bellywound that he claimed had been done by his father.”

“He didn’t hate Hawk atfirst. The mind is a funny thing. The head wound or the shockcaused Cyrus to forget much of that day’s events like they were.His mind twisted his father into an accomplice,” the Carreglasexplains, her words fill with unspoken sorrow and pity for the boy.“He lived alone in the forest, hiding from his brother and fatheruntil Cassé fell apart in the attack. You know what it is like tolive alone out there, remember?”

“Yes,” I whisper bitterly,recalling the days that I had spent hungry by the RiverSangre. So many meals of nothing but grassand a few berries if I was lucky. So many nights spent staring upat the trees, listening to the nocturnal creatures, terrified thatthey were planning to attack me. So many nights spent coveringmyself with moss and leaves for warmth, only to be plagued bycreepy-crawlers wandering across my skin. It’s a wonder I didn’tlose my mind.

The Carreglas visage nods, as if ithad heard my every thought. “For one so young, that kind of lifechanges you. His memories focused less on happier times and more onhow to survive, until he forgot that his father was ever a goodman.”

“He saw Hawk as weak andcowardly for not stopping Cane. And when the masking rituals wereput into place, he saw an opportunity for revenge,” I fill in theremaining details.

“There’s still more foryou to see, Iris,” murmurs the Carreglas, and immediately I seeCyrus in his condor’s mask on the roof of the House of Vultures. Iremember this place, recalling in perfect clarity the argument Ihad with Cyrus up there on the night of Warbler’s wake. Though I amunsure of the time frame for this vision, I can tell it is after abeating. Falcon stands inches behind Cyrus, her bloody whip in herhands. Her eyes are wild with fury. Cyrus leans over the railing,staring off over the treetops, clearly bored with thisfight.

“Why do you protect herso? Mynah hates you, yet you tell me to be easy with her, to keepthe strikes on her back only. ‘Barely leave a scratch, nothing thatwill scar terribly,’ that’s what you demand, and I try to obey. Youprotect her, and I want to understand why,” Falcon demands, ragemaking her quake.

“I don’t have to explainanything to you. You just follow my orders. And when I say thatMynah gets some leeway, you give it to her. If I tell you thatMynah gets to walk out the front door unscathed, you will allowit!”

“But when she steps out ofline, or goes against the rules—”

“She gets a minimalpunishment from you. Every time, Falcon. If your whip ever showsher bones, or if you are cruel, I swear to you that I will killyou. I may taunt and tease her, but I will not see her broken. Arewe clear?” Cyrus’s voice is cold as he watches the stars, ignoringFalcon’s very presence.

“But why, Cyrus?” Falconsnarls, cracking her whip on the roof. The snap of the weaponreleases a marginal amount of her frustration. She raises her armagain, her jaw clenching as she eyes her leader’s back. “Tell mewhy you protect her!”

“I provoke her because itis the only way I can get her to talk to me! I madden her because Ienjoy seeing the fire light up in her eyes. I crowd her spacebecause I long to be near her. I endure her punches and kicks justto feel her touch.” Cyrus whispers the words like they are a secretonly to be shared with the stars. “I take her hatred and loathingbecause in her mind I have earned it. And I bear it withoutpunishment because it is interaction. Biting