Page 101 of Embrace the Serpent

Rane nodded his thanks. “I should have told you sooner,” Rane said. “The truth is, the enchantments have been weakening for some time. I kept it from you, thinking I could solve it on my own.”

A toad croaked, “Fat load of good that did.”

Rane went on. “My ancestors made a promise to you, and it’s my intent to uphold it.”

One of the tiny peris said, in a squeaky, noble voice, “Now, son, we’re all in this together.”

The golden-plumed leader of the eagle folk boomed. “What is your plan? Why does it need three days?”

Rane took a deep breath and admitted the truth. About me being a jewelsmith. About what had protected them all this time. About his great-grandfather’s heartstone.

They were silent.

Rane’s voice filled the room, quiet though it was. “As I said, we have a solution.”

“What solution is there to that?”

Rane tapped his chest.

A hideous silence.

“Give her three days.”

Faced with the sacrifice he was prepared to make, many of them seemed to settle on his side. But there were a few who muttered things—I caught one saying, “Never trust a jewelsmith”—and I felt their gazes digging into the side of my face.

The leader of the eagle folk spoke. “We’ll get you your three days.”

The solemnity in his gaze stuck with me long after the meeting ended.

Rane and I returned to the entry hall. The night was middle-aged, and the townspeople were arriving in batches as boats ferried them across the lake. Families, groups of friends, always overladen with items, things too precious to give up. But I didn’t mind that. If they were worried about a tapestry, then they still had hope that they’d one day have a place to hang it.

“Why did you tell them about me?” I asked.

“If we get through this, this will be your home. I wanted you not to have to lie about who you are.”

He made it so the blame would rest on him.

The grand hall echoed with the sounds of hurried footsteps and anxious whispers.

Two folks were carrying a crate of foods. One’s grip slipped, and it crashed to the floor.

Rane dove into helping them, lifting the crate easily and carrying it to the edge of the hall, where palace cooks were sorting and storing food.

I bit my lip. They were stealing glances at me. They knew I was their king’s bride. I had never felt so visible.

Two gazes lingered. Two gold-skinned, goat-horned children, clutching each other and staring at me. I wrangled a smile onto my mouth and crouched to be eye level. “I know where the other children are playing,” I said, showing them where a half dozen children were engaged in some sort of game with marbles. “If any of them are mean to you, come get me.”

I scanned the crowd until I caught sight of a frantic gold-skinned woman and pointed the children out to her. She thanked me, clutching my arms, and went to them.

Just one more, I thought, as I guided families to the ballroom. Large bouquets of flowers fragranced the air—wedding preparations that no one had a chance to get rid of. Bedrolls were scattered on the polished floor, cushions strewn about, families gathering with each other.

The cook and six of his assistants were handing out an evening meal, portioning out steaming breads, saffron rice, stewed eggplant, something hearty made with gourds, and a half dozen other things—a whole feast. Perhaps eel was on the menu.

A stooped figure shambled in, struggling to carry a heavy basket filled with herbs and medicines. Her skin was like moss-covered rock, and she left a small trail of pebbles in her wake. I rushed to her side, and she let me lift the basket out of her hands. She held onto my arm, and I helped her to a seat by the hearth.

She didn’t let go and looked to me beseechingly. Out of her craggy mouth came a very sweet voice like falling gravel. “Przprzp, dzzry.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.