Mask of Poison (Fall of Under Book 1) by Kathryn Kingsley (great novels to read txt) 📕

gasped. It was a spear, sure. But that was where the similarities to her old weapon ended. The last one she owned had been a piece of rebar that she had polished and sharpened down to a point, then tied leather around to make a shoulder strap. It had been crude, but effective.

What Lyon was offering to her was gold. It shone in the light. The middle of it was carved with swirling lines, giving it enough texture that her hand wouldn’t slide when she used it. The pointed tip had a single barb. Enough to cause damage, but not too difficult to remove from her quarry. It, too, had a leather strap. But it wasn’t poorly stitched together leather. It was white.

“I—you can’t possibly—”

Lyon smiled again at her tenderly. “So that you might yet live another lifetime after today. Please.”

She took it gingerly. It felt light in her hand. It couldn’t possibly be actual gold, then—it would be too soft to be a weapon, and it would have been much heavier. Tears stung her eyes, and she swiped her sleeve across her face to shoo them away. “Thank you, my friend. Thank you. I hope I get to use it more than once.”

Lyon put his hand on her shoulder. “Indeed. I will see you soon.”

The message was clear; he would not say goodbye. She put her hand over his and smiled up at him. “Until then.”

“If you two are quite finished.” Aon took control of the room once more. “We have work to do. Come, Ember.”

And with that, the King of Shadows led her from the room. She followed him, still marveling at the spear in her hands. She twirled it over the back of her hand once. She knew she must be grinning like a fool. It was the most wonderful thing she had ever been given in her life. Although, truth be told, she’d been given so very little.

“Nothing that is about to transpire is personal.” Aon had been silent for so long that when he spoke, it actually startled her.

She blinked. “Okay?”

Aon slowed to walk beside her and turned his head toward her. The light reflected off the odd circle and line in his mask, proving that they were holes down to what should have been his face beneath. But like all the other masks she had seen, something hid his face in darkness. “You do not seem as though you trust easily.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Why?”

She looked away. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she knew he was staring. She didn’t like how much he could probably see. She didn’t spend much time with people, so she wasn’t used to hiding her expressions. She was probably giving everything away without realizing it. Now I wish I had a mask to wear. “People can be shit.”

He chuckled darkly. “In that, we are agreed.”

She didn’t know why she felt the need to tell him. But the urge was there anyway. I told him so much about my life, and none of it that really mattered. “My partner—my brother Ash. He didn’t die from drengil. He died because when people are tempted…when they think they can get away with theft or murder? Most of them don’t hesitate to screw over everyone else to get what they want. That’s why I don’t trust people.”

They stopped at the front door to his estate. It was as beautiful and detailed as everything else in his house. It was also as needlessly large.

“Nor should you. Which is why I am merely providing you the explanation that what is about to occur is a bit of theatre.”

She watched him for a second before she smirked. “You’re going to do something awful, aren’t you?”

“Mmhm.” He sounded pleased at the idea.

“Is it going to hurt?”

“Not overmuch.”

She shrugged and slung her spear onto her back. “Great. I’m a terrible liar, though. You’re going to have to make it look real—whatever it is you’re going to do.”

He lifted his clawed hand and examined the palm, flexing and straightening his fingers, as if ensuring that they still worked. “Oh, if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s that.”

With a snap of his fingers, the door swung open.

And at the bottom of his stairs was a horde of drengil. Shoulder to shoulder, they stood like a wall, only thirty feet away.

She froze.

There, standing in front of the rest…was Rxa. He had his head lowered, his long, matted, and bloodstained blond hair hanging limply around his shattered porcelain mask.

Without warning, Aon’s hand twisted in her hair and yanked her toward him, almost pulling her off balance. She staggered, and he caught her…with the claws of his gauntlet around her throat. He held her in front of him like a shield.

Rxa laughed. It was the eerie laugh of a madman.

“Hello, old friend,” the King of Shadows greeted.

Rxa tipped his head up toward them, the demented and cracked grin of his mask slowly coming into view.

“Hello, brother.”

24

Silence.

Ember had never seen drengil stand still. But there they were—a sea of silent, unmoving corpses. They stood, packed in close, and simply stared ahead.

And waited.

No one should be able to command the dead. And especially not a madman.

Ember shivered. Aon had her back pressed to his chest, her head tilted back at an angle to keep his sharp claws from piercing her throat.

“Oh! Hello, little dove. I didn’t notice you at first.” Rxa chuckled. “I’m so glad you found yourself here! That’s so exciting. If you’re here, then, that means my buzzkill of a second command is bumbling around nearby. Tell me, Aon, have you schemed a trap for me, I wonder? Is there to be an ambush?” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the wall of the dead that stood behind him. “Cuz…I don’t know how it’ll go for you.”

“You think you can overthrow me with your mindless chaff?” Aon’s grip in her hair tightened. “You underestimate me.”

“Says the man hiding behind a mortal.”

“It ensures you will allow me the