Brood of Vipers
House of Vultures Book 3
by
Maggie Claire
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
World Castle Publishing, LLC
Pensacola, Florida
Copyright © Maggie Claire 2021
Smashwords Edition
Paperback ISBN: 9781955086165
eBook ISBN: 9781955086172
First Edition World Castle Publishing, LLC, May 18, 2021
http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com
Smashwords Licensing Notes
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.
Cover: Karen Fuller
Editor: Maxine Bringenberg
This book is dedicated to Diane Smith. Thank you for always supporting my work.
You are greatly missed.
Prelude (From Pack of Wolves)
“On your feet,” the frigid as a snowstorm voice of the Déchets’ guard demands as he rattles the lock of a grimy cell deep in the palace’s dungeons. “You have a visitor.”
A lithe form shifts in the darkness, a mass of frizzy dark hair covering her face. “Who seeks me now after all this time?”
“You could have spent your days by my side had you chosen to share your memories with me,” a muffled voice replies as Alaric wipes his nose with a perfumed handkerchief to ward off the pungent odor of human waste and death. “I feel no sympathy for you, Helena.”
“Majesty.” The woman scorns the word, her piercing eyes glaring at the regal intruder. “Have you come for that again? My answer is unchanged.”
“You always were the most stubborn girl I had ever seen. But no, I have come to make a deal with you instead.” The king steps into the cell, ignoring the squelching of his shoes as he crosses into the dirt and muck. “A chance at freedom, at life outside this dungeon. After all this time, I am sure you miss the sunlight.” He stays a safe distance from the woman, just out of her arm’s reach as he continues. “Don’t you miss the feel of the fresh air on your face? Don’t you long to use your Windwalker abilities once more?”
“What’s the catch?” Helena mutters as her fingers inch along the stone floor, desperately seeking a sharp knife. Even a rusty piece of the horrid iron bars would work—it would burn her skin to touch it, but pain would be worth it if she could jab out the king’s eye. No anguish could be worse than anything she’s already endured.
“I’ll send you and one of my guards over the Devil’s Spine. My border guards report that a Windwalker was seen deep in these enemy lands using enough power to be witnessed for many miles. Yet no one of that strength has gone missing from Déchets in a long time.”
“Why me?” Helena asks, trying not to let the snarl of hatred loose in her throat.
“You know the land, the people, and their ways. And it will give you a chance to prove your usefulness once more. Fail, and you die. Refuse to go, and you’ll die slowly. The choice is up to you.”
With immense effort and a curse as her stiffened limbs break free from their long underuse, Helena crawls up to stand by the cell door. Her body shows its bones under a thin coating of scarred skin, barely more than a walking skeleton. “You give me no choice, Highness; I will obey.”
Chapter 1
“Oh, Helena. There is always a choice to be made. You should know that better than anyone,” Alaric chuckles as he guides the prisoner’s frail body out of the cell, his fingers hooked around her thin shoulders as she slinks toward freedom. He grips her tightly to remind her that he can drag her right back into that hellish cell if he chooses, discarding her like the trash he considers her to be. “And aren’t you the least bit curious? Another rogue Windwalker living in secret in that horrible land. Don’t you wonder if it is someone you might know? Someone from your past?” He leans close to her ear, brushing her oily, matted hair out of the way so she can feel his breath against her skin. “Think of it! Freedom, using your powers again, sating your curiosity about this traitor…it’s all within your grasp. Help me find the Windwalker, Helena.”
“I’m not surprised at all, Alaric. Surely I wasn’t the only one who grew bored of living under your rule,” Helena retorts, wincing and wheezing as the king’s elbow slams into her ribs. The blow feels like it loosened her vertebrae, causing them to shift and grind against each other as she doubles over to catch her breath. When she can speak once more, Helena hisses with hysterical laughter, “Really not the best way to get me to help you, Alaric.”
“Stupid girl,” Alaric snarls into her ear, dragging her back toward the cell. “I can rescind my offer of freedom just as easily as it was given. There are plenty of other wastrels in this place that would kill for the chance to see the sunlight again!” Alaric pauses in front of the cell opposite the one Helena has called home for the last fifteen years. He shoves her hard against the bars, uncaring as her skin sizzles where it touches the metal. “Feel that?” he taunts, lifting one hand to catch her thin arm, pressing its entire length up against the iron.
“Let me go!” Helena shrieks, struggling against the king’s hold. “I’m burning! Stop it!”
“You were always so strong,” Alaric whispers, leaning forward to sniff the air around her arm, relishing the scent of scorched flesh. “All that magic inside you yearns to be used, Helena.” Grimy fingers from the cell’s occupants brush and claw at her skin, pawing at her frail body through the bars. Gleaming, wicked eyes rake their stares over her skin, murmuring and whispering their dark promises and demands.
“Get off me!” Helena growls, cringing away from the unwanted touches, turning her hateful,
