Page 12 of Embrace the Serpent

He smiled. “I promise, he’s not what he seems. His bite is pretty bad, but he doesn’t bark at all.”

I felt the blood draining from my face.

“I’m sorry,” Rane said, “that was a little snake joke. I mean, his bite is bad, but he doesn’t go around biting people, that’s all propaganda—hey, wait— wait. Is that my cloak?”

I stopped in my tracks. “Uh. No?”

“It is. My mother sewed it for me, I recognize the wonky hem.”

Curses. I unhooked the cloak’s clasp and hesitated. He’d see my dress, the torn fabric, and he’d know something happened.

But the last thing I needed was the kind of punishment that the Serpent King would dole out if I stole from one of his men.

I unwrapped it from my shoulders and handed it over.

Rane sucked in a breath.

“I ran into a—a nail,” I explained. “It tore.”

His gaze was dark. “Was it Galen?”

“That’s—”

He neared me, and I stilled. Very gently, he drew his cloak around me. “If you want the job, it’s yours.”

“I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity. I’m in a desperate position.”

“And I don’t want the cloak your mother made you.”

“Ah, well, I lied about that. My mother has never sewn a thing.”

My hands stopped undoing the clasp. His eyes were alight, all atwinkle.

“Please,” he said softly.

If I had to explain why I followed him into the tent, it probably had to do with temporary madness. Or maybe it was the please. He didn’t assume that he could force me, even though he was much larger and had all the might of the Serpent King behind him.

The tent was dark compared to outside, and as my eyes adjusted, big heavy shapes seemed to sidle sideways and dark little

things seemed to leap and scurry into dark little corners. Rane ignited a lamp, and the light washed over a decadent lounge

of a room, the floor covered in silken carpets and low divans. A wall of cabinets and trunks sealed the rest of the tent from

view.

“What was that?” I asked.

“What was what?” Rane asked innocently.

“The...” tent rearranging itself? That sounded ridiculous. “Never mind.”

He waved a hand and the rug under our feet shimmered and turned blue, reweaving itself into a pattern like the ripples on

a lake, strewn with lotus. “You mean that?”

I’d jumped onto a divan, and now, embarrassed, I toed the rug, checking that it would hold my weight before stepping down.

Grimney popped his head out of my pocket, and I pushed him back down. No knowing what Rane could do to him.

There were voices coming from the other side of the tent.

I shot a glance at the tent flap we’d come through, but it had sealed up like it had never existed. I wetted my lips and pretended Rane’s display of power—the magic of the divine peoples right in front of me —was perfectly normal. “That’s a nice trick.”

“Don’t be so alarmed. It’s an illusion.”

“Can all the huntsmen do that?”

“Just me. We all have specialties, but I’m something of a special case. That’s why he relies on me for... important things.”

He leaned in. “So. Will you take the job?”

“What is it, exactly?” My head filled with remembered stories of the divine peoples and their hatred for jewelsmiths. “It’s

a real jewelsmithing job, right?” And not, perhaps, a plot to ritually sacrifice a smith as some kind of revenge?

He read some of my fear, for he smiled. “Yes. I promise you that. But I can say little more. Not here in the city. I can only

tell you once we’re inside the Serpent Kingdom.”

“Why not?”

“In case you change your mind—or in case the djinn gets hold of you.”

Goose pimples rose on my skin. “The djinn?”

“Lady Incarnadine.” His mouth twisted like he was about to do something difficult. “This may be hard to believe—”

“No. I believe you.” My mother’s words rang in my head.

He exhaled like the wind in his sails had been let out. “Well, wonderful.”

“What about payment?”

He spread his arms. “The Serpent King will give you pick of any of the riches of his kingdom if you do this job.”

Fanciful, but I knew enough about running a shop to go after specifics. “I want a shop of my own, somewhere far from here.”

“That’s difficult. You know there are no jewelsmiths outside this city?”

I frowned. I vaguely remembered Galen mentioning that. With the danger of Mirandel and Lady Incarnadine... “Can you cast

an illusion on me? Change me into someone else?”

“Well, temporarily, sure, but a permanent illusion is rather delicate work—”

“That’s what I want. A new identity. And a shop in the city. And enough money to keep me afloat for the first year.”

Rane’s full lips were pressed into a line. “Anything else? Maybe my firstborn?”

“What?”

“Never mind.” He ran both hands through his hair. “Fine. I can do that. Are we agreed?”

He held out a hand, his eyes aglimmer with hesitant anticipation, with the threat of a shutter waiting to fall over his expression

if I turned him down.

My fingers brushed his palm, and there was a fizzing under my skin, like the moment a firework is lit. Somehow I trusted Rane,

in a way I realize I never truly trusted Galen. Like me, Rane was an assistant, and I felt we were equals. “Agreed,” I said.

Rane’s grip tightened. “Excellent. We’ll leave at once.”

I soon learned that at once meant something different to a king and his retinue. “When you say we ,” I began, following Rane as he rushed around the tent, shouting orders at the huntsmen, who were packing with extraordinary efficiency, “do you mean everyone is leaving?”

He moved me aside to get at a cabinet behind me. “We only came to this city to find a jewelsmith.”

“You mean—What about the Serpent King finding a bride?”

“That, my friend, is what we call a pretense. We needed a way into the city.”

“Oh.” Mirandel would be disappointed. I tried not to feel glad about that. “So, the king will be joining us...?”

He shot me an amused look. “We can’t very well leave him behind.”

“No...” I jumped out of his way as he grabbed a rolled-up rug and swung it onto a pile. “How are we leaving?”

He spun on a heel and collided with me. “You’ll see.” He maneuvered me by the shoulders to a divan. “But for now, sit there

and look pretty.”

I scowled.

He grinned. “Close enough.”

I sat very still, blending as much as I could into the shadows without the help of my mother’s ring. An endless parade of

the Serpent King’s huntsmen marched through, and Rane introduced me to each as “the jewelsmith” by gesturing to the dark corner

where I perched. He seemed to enjoy the way they startled when I blinked.

I was surprised to find that several of the huntsmen were women, though in my defense, it wasn’t easy to tell with the helms

and armor, and I also had the feeling that they didn’t much care for the distinction. All the huntsmen were of a height, almost

identical when in full uniform, as if the Serpent King preferred a matched set.

Every time the flap opened, I tensed, expecting the Serpent King himself, but he never came.

Soon the day’s toll had to be paid, and I fell asleep.

When I woke, night was turning to dawn. My corner of the tent was empty, all the rugs packed away, the dirt peeking through

the threadbare floor. Grimney was asleep on my lap, and I moved him aside and rose.

A sliver of light came from the adjoining room, where the partition flap hung open.

Silver hair. A bare chest, broad and covered in silver snakeskin that glinted with iridescence. A deep voice that said, “You

are sure she is the one?”

Rane came into view, holding up a pale garment. “She’s our best chance. She’s talented, and equally important, she’s willing.

It’s her or throwing Vyalis in a sack.”

The Serpent King slipped his arms into the sleeves and took the sash Rane handed him, tying it around his waist. “They say

Vyalis is the best.”

Rane clicked his tongue. “He’s the Emperor’s favorite. The djinn’s favorite. That hardly makes him the best.”

“So you’ve decided.”

“I have a feeling. Sometimes it happens that a wee little voice in your heart says this is right.”

The Serpent King turned to face him, and his gaze caught mine.

I jerked back. “Sorry!”

Rane swept open the separating curtain. “Good timing. We’re just about ready. Now, come here.”

Come in there ? I stood petrified until the Serpent King swept out, his long silver hair brushing my arm.

“I’m going to put an illusion on you,” Rane said. “It’s a temporary one, so the thing is that if you tell the truth—any truth

at all—the illusion dissipates.”

His brow furrowed in focus, and he pressed his thumb to my eyebrow.

A feeling came over me, like warm milk being poured on the crown of my head and trickling down to my feet. The warmth lingered

where his thumb had been.

Rane’s lips quirked as his eyes roamed over me. “I’m amazing,” he said. “Let’s go.”

It was midmorning when we rolled down the main road and joined the queue of merchants at the southern gates. We were in a

large wagon, the kind that belonged to a moderately successful merchant, but not grand enough to be worthy of note. The inside

was stuffed with rolled-up rugs, which felt real enough when I brushed my fingers along them.

We were all changed. Rane had turned himself into a jolly man with a long white beard, and he sat up front, driving oxen that

I was fairly certain had been horses not long ago. The Serpent King sat across from me, in the guise of a middle-aged man

with a heavy brow and enormous fluffy eyebrows.

He leaned back, arms crossed, eyes shut as if he were asleep.

Somehow, he was still terrifying. Was it his size?

The way his feet were firmly planted, no matter how the wagon rocked?

And about his feet—the stories said he had multiple forms, that his lower body could become that of a massive serpent.

I couldn’t remember if he could also do the opposite—it seemed unfair if he couldn’t keep human feet but turn his head into a serpent’s—

His eyes were open. He was watching me.

I jumped out of my skin.

A scrawny girl with plaited hair—one of the huntsmen—jumped up on the driver’s bench. “They’re stopping everyone. They’re

looking for a girl. A thief. They say she’s Master Galen’s assistant.”

Rane looked over his shoulder. “Bit of an important detail to forget to mention, eh, Saphira?”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t think he’d send the guards after me.” As the words left my mouth, a sudden icy shiver ran from

my head to my toes. I clapped my hands to my cheeks—the illusion!

Rane laughed. “Yes, that’s what I meant about telling the truth.”

I asked something that had been bothering me. “Isn’t it dangerous to go through the front gates?”

“All the other secret back ways are being watched. We’re less likely to arouse suspicion this way. Now, come here, and let

me illuse you.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. His fingers brushed across my cheek, and his thumb found my brow. The warm-milk feeling spread over

me.

I opened my mouth.

Rane shushed me. “Better not to talk. Don’t worry. We’ll soon slip through.”

And then we were at the front. A gaggle of guards were inspecting each vehicle thoroughly, making a point to pull aside youngish

women of a smallish stature and compare their faces to a scroll.

Rane made small talk up front. The doors of the wagon were flung open, and two guards peered in.

Too late I noticed Grimney’s head poking out of my pocket. The sudden light glinted off the amethyst in his forehead and I

shoved him down.

“What’s that in your pocket, ma’am?”

A lie—I needed a good lie. “My pet mouse.”

“It’s just her hand,” Rane said. “She’s a little touched. Mother dropped her as a babe—”

The guard gestured, and two others poked their heads into our wagon. “Everyone, out.”

I got out first. A guard with a bushy mustache peered at me. “What’s your name?”

“Sa—Sa—” I responded instinctively, then snapped my mouth shut.

“Sasa, you’d better empty your pockets.”

Slowly, I inched my hand into my pocket, craning my hand toward Rane, but he was blocked by the wagon. I pulled Grimney out.

“That’s no mouse,” said the guard.

Another sneered. “No, it ain’t. Been stealing from the jewelsmiths, have you?”

“I’m no—” I cut myself off before I could blurt out the truth and ruin the illusion.

The first guard crossed his arms. “Well, are you a thief or aren’t you?”

I bit my lip.

“Take her,” said one of the guards.

Hands grabbed me. I shouted, “I’m not a thief!”

Horsepiss. The sudden shiver that spread from my crown told me I’d lost the illusion.

A moment of shock. Then the mustached guard raised the order and glanced from it to my face. “It’s her!”

“Unhand her.” Rane’s voice.

A laugh came from one of the dozens of Imperial Guards that surrounded us. A mob, a wall of guards—summoned from nearby like

ants at the sight of a crumb of cake. “We’ll take you in, too.”

“I am a huntsman of the Serpent King,” said Rane. “You will release her.”

I felt the hands on my arms tense. “I’m sorry—sir—but we have to take her—orders come straight from the Rose Palace, see?”

A sudden gasp came from the guards, from the onlookers. I turned my head as far as I could and saw the oxen had transformed

back to warrior horses with sea-foam manes.

Gravel crunched as footfalls closed in. A deep voice commanded, “You have nothing to fear, as long as you remove your hands

from her.”

All at once, I was let go. But the mustached guard stuttered. “S-she’s a criminal, my lord—”

“No.” An arm like a tree trunk wrapped around my waist. “She is my bride.”