Page 20 of The Cannibal

“He was in my room, Phoebe.”

“That’s nonsense,” she laughed, “the brain does silly things, especially if you were anxious already⁠—”

“Phoebe,” my tone was warning, “does Silas know he’s here?”

“He wasn’t supposed to come, not yet⁠—”

“So that’s a no.” I nodded, this supposedly relaxing bath getting more stressful by the minute. I went to stand.

Phoebe pulled me back down. “Wait.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or are you going to call me hysterical again?” I raised my brow.

“If you saw him,” she gulped, “then I believe you.”

I settled back into the water, the two of us close as she clasped my hand in hers.

“What exactly did Silas do to your Nest? The old one,” I pressed.

She smiled sheepishly. “I don’t know if you will be delighted or angry when I tell you.”

“Tell me,” I insisted.

“Do you remember the poisons? The ones confiscated in your confinement?”

“Of course I do.”

“Did you wonder what became of the other four you didn’t use?”

My heart sank, then elevated all over again. “Go on,” I pestered.

“Silas used them on the bloodwine.” She shook her head. I couldn’t tell if she thought it was brave or foolish. “Everyone, almost instantly. Not as good as the one you’ve perfected. But the cruelty echoed across the world, Alina.” Phoebe held my hand tight. “And now we must answer for it.”

“We?”

“They’ve been working on our case, our appeal.” She swallowed. “Kin-killing is a great betrayal; in many cases it would warrant execution if it were some minor Vipera. But it could be justified considering the circumstances.”

The blankness of my stare must have made her continue.

“Aptissimus quisque tantum superest.” She spoke the Latin fluently, as if I should know this exciting revelation. “Only the fittest survives. We do not follow many laws, most have been unwritten since we came to existence. Our community enforces the forbiddance of kin-killing, Host imprisonment, and forced turning. There are small escapeways in all three that require some creativity to get around, but it is done regularly.”

“So how are we getting out of this?”

She nodded. “Silas’s actions can be seen as him challenging his father’s place as Sire, considering he shouldn’t have been able to do such damage with the Nest under our father’s protection. He demonstrated pretty clearly that our father was unfit.”

She stopped speaking, but I was still waiting for how this tied into my first question.

“So your father is here because . . . ?”

She blew air from her nose exasperatedly. “He is here because we now have to go through an Appraisal.”

“Like a trial?”

“No—well, no, it’s a special kind. We have to make our case that our Nest is now in official standing,” she explained.

“You can’t just form them?”

“No, we have official standards,” she huffed, “why do you think there are so many Dens and Guilds? Not everyone can be a Nest, even if they try.”