Mask of Poison (Fall of Under Book 1)

by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

  She laughed, turning to smile at him. “I would be more accustomed to sleeping in the woods. I don’t know as I’ve slept in a bed since I was a child. This is—this is too much. Thank you.”

  Lyon bowed. “It is nothing. You are not my prisoner, Miss Ember. You are my guest. Please remember that. If you need anything, my rooms are the ones at the end of the hall. Simply knock. If you become restless, you are welcome to wander the cathedral. There is a small library four doors down with books you are welcome to peruse. But I ask, for your safety, that you not leave the building.”

  She nodded. That seemed more than fair. “Deal.”

  “Goodnight, Ember.”

  “Goodnight, Lyon.”

  He shut the door behind him, leaving her alone with the room, the warm fire, and her thoughts.

  The room was cozy. All the furniture looked hand carved, depicting creatures and vines, or just decorative symbols. It was all stained a dark, warm tone. Each one looked like a work of art.

  It felt…safe. Comfortable. Like she could relax for the first time since she had left the citadel after her training.

  But she kept her hand resting on the handle of her long knife. Anything and everything could be a trap. But it’s a trap I’m already in. The jaws have snapped shut. I suppose if I’m already done for, I might as well eat the cheese they used to lure me in.

  Speaking of cheese.

  She stopped to stare at a plate of food that was laid out on a short table. Every kind of food she could imagine was on display. Bread, cheese, fruit, meats…her mouth watered.

  And wine. Well, she hoped it was wine. No way to know in a world that wasn’t hers.

  It had been so long since she’d had any.

  A large mirror by the wall caught her attention, and she glanced at herself. Embarrassment struck her for the first time in a long time. She looked like a disaster, especially compared to Lyon and Maverick in their pristine clothes. She took in a deep breath, held it for a long time, and then let it out in a rush.

  Going to the wall, she picked up a chair and went to the door. Wedging it under the handle, she shook her head. She knew it wouldn’t stop them from getting inside, but old habits tended to die hard.

  Next, she checked the windows. She was on the third floor—too high for any drengil to climb. But who was to say about the new monsters she had yet to face? She locked them and pulled the curtains all the same.

  She took her spear off her back and leaned it up against the wall, along with her bag. All of her supplies should be in one place just in case she had to run.

  Then she explored the room she was almost more excited about than the wine.

  In her travels, she had seen rooms like this. But she had never seen one intact. She ran her hand over the countertop. It was made of smooth and polished wood. Twisting one of the spigots in the sink, she smiled as water rushed from the tap. Clean water. Drinkable water.

  And then there was the tub! Unable to stop her excitement, she laughed and sat on the lip of it. Twisting the knobs, she groaned as her hand touched the hot water pouring into the large basin.

  Hot water.

  Screw it. She knew she shouldn’t trust them, but this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Clean water, food, and somewhere to sleep that might be safe from the monsters. If this is a cage, then it’s not so bad.

  She shrugged out of her clothes and piled them up on the floor, before unwinding the bandages she used to wrap her breasts down. They tended to get in the way in a fight, otherwise. She kept her long knife on the edge of the tub as she stepped in, the water instantly turning dark around her. She sat down, groaning again as she sank into the glorious hot water.

  There was a bar of what she could only assume was soap sitting in a little basin. She hadn’t seen it since she was a child, and even then, it was only at the market.

  Twice she had to change the water in the tub because it had turned so dark it was embarrassing even to herself. She scrubbed herself with the soap and a cloth until she was certain every bit of dirt was gone. I may never get a second one of these. After discovering liquid soap that smelled like flowers in another bottle, she set to cleaning her hair. It was gnarled, and the braids needed to be redone.

  By the time she climbed out of the hot water, her fingers had begun to prune. Plucking a towel from a rack, she dried off and wrapped it around herself. It felt wrong to put on her dirty clothes after working so hard to get clean. She could at least wait until the morning.

  A morning that would come without a sun.

  She shook her head. Another thing she would have to learn to live without—for as long as she survived, at any rate. Which, judging by how bizarre and dangerous Under seemed to be, would probably not be for very long.

  The clothes at the foot of the bed looked simple but well-made. She pulled on the cotton pants and the top, loving the feel of soft, clean clothes on her skin. Plucking up the tray from the bench at the end of the bed, she sat in the chair by the fire and ate, forcing herself to take her time. She took particular care not to drink the wine too fast.

  She should be sober if she had to fight or escape in the middle of the night. But that said, she could hold her own in a brawl while tipsy.

  After finishing the food and half the bottle of wine, she yawned, stretched, and decided it was time to crawl into the cozy-looking bed. She pulled back the thick, fluffy covers, and climbed under the sheets.

  It felt…so good.

  So damn good.

  I don’t even think the citadel rulers had it this good. Was this what it was like in the old world? Soft beds, good food, and hot water on demand? Did everyone live like kings?

  She let her head sink into the pillows. It was so cozy. So wonderful. If I die like this, at least I’ll die happy.

  She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

  Even if she did keep her knife in her hand.

  “What do you make of our guest?”

  Lyon glanced at Maverick from where he sat in front of the fireplace in his receiving room. The Elder of Words sat across from him, a large glass of brandy in his hand. He debated his answer before giving it. “She is terrified.”

  “She seemed fine to me.”

  “On the exterior.” Lyon sipped his wine. “She has been trained to cope with chaos and death. We are merely the next challenge to confront her life. Far more fantastical, perhaps, but all the same as the death she has faced before.”

  “Mmh. I suppose.” Maverick spun the glass idly between his fingers, watching the firelight glint off the cut sides. “She’s bright. For that, I am glad. But what are we to do with her?”

  “I fear I do not know. I am at a bit of a loss. I will serve as her protector and her host, at the very least.”

  “The last time we had a mortal amongst us, it did not go well.” Maverick grimaced.

  “Aon might wish to argue otherwise.”

  “The King of Shadows can lodge his opinions up his arse.” The Elder of Words sipped his brandy. “I do not want a repeat performance the likes of what happened during the Rise.”

  “None of us do, old friend. None of us do.” Lyon shut his eyes. “Ember is curious and bright, as you said. There is a kindness in her. She was worried for you.”

  “Me?” Maverick snorted. “You’re playing false sympathies on the wrong man.”

  “I do not lie. She asked about your wellbeing once we left you in the sanctuary. She saw you in distress, and I believe wished to help you.”

  “No one can help me.”

  “Yes, so I’ve noticed. I’ll be sure to warn her not to waste her time.”

  Maverick huffed in a half-laugh. Companionable silence reigned for a long time before the Elder of Words broke it. “I will be all right, Lyon. But this nonsense…it raises old grudges for me.”

  “I know. If I were truly concerned, I would have said something.” He opened his eyes to study his friend. Maverick was staring into the flames. “We will survive. We always have.”


  “But at what cost?” The elder finished his brandy in one gulp. “There is always a cost.” Maverick stood, placing his glass on the table beside him. “I will stay here for the night, if you do not mind. The ride back to the library is long, and it is late.”

  “You are always welcome. Until the morrow, old friend.”

  Maverick left with a simple nod. He was already consumed in his thoughts. Kamira always complained when Lyon and the elder spent too much time together in silence. She said it reminded her of a mausoleum.

  Lyon turned his attention back to the flames. Kamira was hunting with Dtu and would be some time before she could make it back to the city, especially if Dtu could no longer travel through the fold. All things considered, he wasn’t concerned. His wife could handle any trouble thrown at her, and then some.

  But Maverick’s words troubled him.

  Survival, but at what cost?

  He hadn’t replied, for he had not wanted to agree with the man. Nor could he summon the lie to argue.

  Yes. At what cost, indeed…

  9

  Dtu walked alongside the pack of frightened humans. They were more likely to stay in line on the road if he was present. His shape was larger and far more frightening than the others. They might not know or understand why he was the King of Moons—but humans were instinctual animals, deep down. They could sense the power in him. They knew, even if he were in his human form, that he was terrifying. That he was something to be feared and avoided.

  Well.

  Except one human, anyway.

  Dtu looked down at the curious little creature named Jakob as the young man jogged out of the crowd to walk at his side. Jakob was young, perhaps in his twenties, with long blond hair that was shaved close to the scalp on both sides. The remainder was braided and ran down his back. Dtu could have almost mistaken him for one of the warriors in the House of Flames. But Jakob didn’t look like a warrior. He wasn’t built like one, and his expression was too open, too friendly, and too trusting. But neither did he look too soft for the road. They had been marching for six hours along the dirt packed road leading to Yej from their hunting grounds, and the human did not seem any the worse for wear.

  Many of the other humans didn’t seem so enthusiastic and looked weary. They would have to stop and make camp soon.

  “Hello, little Jakob,” he greeted the young man.

  The young man smiled back. “Hello, Dtu. Where are we going?”

  “The capitol city of our world. It is named Yej. There I hope we may find more answers about what has happened.”

  “What will happen to us?”

  “I can’t say as I know. Some will wish to put you before the Ancients and see if they will accept you into our world.”

  “The Ancients?”

  “Our gods.”

  “I hope the Dread God has not killed them, too.”

  “It has not. If our Ancients were consumed, I do not know what would come of our world. It is through their dreams that our very existence was made possible. I would know if they fell.”

  “Oh. That’s good.” Jakob smiled. He was such an odd little human. He did not cower in fear from Dtu’s skulled face or rotted body. Dtu did not know if that was a good or a bad thing. It may not be a mark in favor of the man’s intelligence. “What do you think happened?”

  “I do not theorize. I’m always wrong. I hunt. That is my lot in life.”

  Jakob paused. He furrowed his brow in confusion. “But…what do you think happened?”

  Dtu chuckled and shook his skull. No one asked his opinion on these things. Not even Kamira. He was not consulted in matters of politics or strategy. It was likely for good reason. He was a hothead—he acted first, thought later. He was prone to emotional outbursts, and that was not the way to make level-headed choices. But he was who he was. At his age, he had grown tired of apologizing for his behavior.

  “I think,” he began and then paused to form his thoughts. “I think your Dread God found creatures of a similar mindset…and I think it has joined our Ancients.”

  “Oh. Oh…that’s…that’s very bad. That means your world has the drengil now.” Jakob shuddered. “I’m so sorry.”

  “We are more capable of dealing with such threats than your kind, I think.” Dtu raised his head to look out into the woods. It was filled with creatures the dreamers had summoned. Lydia’s leadership had brought forth strange and bizarre things that he could barely fathom. She was…creative, he gave her that. Far more than Qta had been, and his former mate had dreamed up fantastical monsters.

  His heart cinched at the memory of Qta. Dtu missed him. The original snake god of Under had always been a jovial source of laughter. He was a good and kind king.

  Lydia was not…a bad queen. Not by any means. She was more merciful than even Queen Ini, but she was fierce and, although Dtu loathed to admit it, proudly independent.

  Even from the man who shared her heart and her bed.

  The fur on his shoulders rose at the thought of Aon. Damn the King of Shadows to the pits for taking from Dtu the man he had loved. He would never forgive Aon for the Great War. He would never turn his back on the warlock without expecting to find a knife in his ribs. Aon was a traitor and a demon amongst monsters.

  But neither could Dtu wage a war against the man. Aon was a part of their world, perhaps even more so than any others. He was the king killer—and the only true king of Under. It was by his choice that he was not the King of All that the Ancients had created him to be.

  Aon had sacrificed ultimate power. And he had done it for love.

  Dtu could not seek to tear apart Lydia and Aon, even if he wished to do so out of spite. It would make him no better than the warlock himself. But that did not mean he needed to like either of them.

  “Your world is very pretty.” Jakob snapped him out of his thoughts.

  Dtu looked down to the small man and smiled internally. “It has its moments. But it is also filled with terrible creatures such as I.”

  “You don’t look terrible.” He looked him over ponderously. “The drengil are far worse. You have a…I don’t know, an elegance to you. Like an old god of the woods. The Varúlfur of my people, our shapeshifters, were a noble people. They were protectors of mankind.”

  “I am no protector.”

  “I don’t know.” Jakob smiled. “I think you are.”

  “You have known me for the span of less than an hour of conversation and you think I am benign?”

  “You could have killed me. You didn’t.”

  “You are a mystery. It is not my place to kill you.”

  “The drengil wouldn’t make that distinction. They’re unthinking, unfeeling, unstoppable things who know only hunger. You’re not that.” Jakob looked back toward the road and smiled. “You’re better than they are.”

  “I would hope to be better than a shambling corpse.” Dtu wasn’t quite sure where the conversation was going. Nor did he try to end it. Strange little man. Oddly enough, Dtu found the whole thing rather amusing.

  “Can you change your shape? Like the strange cat woman can do?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “I prefer this form.”

  “Oh.” Jakob paused. “Why?”

  Dtu laughed. “You are full of questions.”

  “I am. I’m told it gets annoying. If I’m bothering you, I’ll go away.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

  Dtu pondered the man for another long moment. He was thin. He was, Dtu had to admit begrudgingly, handsome. He was all charm and little intelligence. “Did you have a profession before your world collided with ours?”

  “I was a merchant.”

  Ah. Yes. All charm and little intelligence, indeed. Dtu looked back at the road. “You are not bothering me, little Jakob. It is natural to wish to understand the world around you.”

  “So, why is this form your favorite? And can you pick any other shape you wish?”

  Dtu l
aughed again, and in mid-stride, decided to take his mortal form for a rare moment. The cracking of bones was loud and visceral. The humans closest to him moved farther away. Except Jakob.

  That poor boy just looked sick to his stomach. When all was said and done, Dtu was in his human form. His wooden wolf mask, which strongly resembled the skull he bore in his preferred shape, kept his face obscured from them all. But the rest of his body was largely bare. He did not wear a shirt, and the chill wind was jarring now that his fur was gone.

  He wore pants. Qta had pestered him about that for centuries. It was “uncivilized” to wander about naked. Dtu didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. But when poor dead Edu had landed a particularly vicious punch to that particular part of his body during a sparring match, he had learned to keep himself sheathed in clothing if he could not do it in fur.

  Jakob was watching him with a wide-eyed expression that matched the one he wore when Dtu had first emerged from the forest. “O—oh.”

  “Am I not what you expected?”

  “I…no.” Jakob chuckled.

  If Dtu wasn’t a complete idiot, he might have blushed. Blushed? Why? What for? He looked down at himself to make sure he was tucked away in his pants. He was. Was it his scars? His marks?

  It didn’t make any sense.

  “You might be less frightening to the others like that,” Jakob said and smiled. “People might be less likely to run away screaming.”

  “They are more likely to obey me when they know I can kill them easily.”

  Jakob blinked. He took a breath, went to answer, stopped, opened his mouth again, stopped, and sighed. “Okay, that’s fair.”

  Dtu chuckled. “But I see your point, little Jakob.”

  They walked in silence beside each other for a few minutes before it seemed to drive the human up the wall. It seemed like Jakob wasn’t one for quiet moments. “So, why do you prefer your wolf form?”

  “I feel less restricted in it. It is a true reflection of my inner self, where this body is only what I was born with. Those of us who serve the House of Moons may choose to reflect our souls on the exterior. Kamira’s form shifts with her moods. I am much more stalwart and stubborn in my appearance.”