Page 13 of Embrace the Serpent

The Serpent King’s proclamation slithered its way through the air, and you could measure its progress by the way expressions

of confusion sprouted in its wake. A ripple of dumbfoundment.

It had nothing to do with the king: everyone knew he was here to find a bride, just like any other noble who came for the

Season. Their confusion came when they looked at me with my hair in unruly waves that I hadn’t brushed in, well, long enough

ago that I couldn’t remember, and though I’d like to flatter myself and say that I was not particularly hideous, my face wasn’t

at its best advantage with my mouth agape and eyes bulging.

The Serpent King pinched my side.

I stammered. “Bride?”

“Do not be shy, my little rabbit,” he said, and—did snakes eat rabbits? I had a feeling they did. There was an intent look

in his silver eyes. “To the noble guards of this fine city, I thank you for your excellent service. And...”

He turned, and his arm meant I turned with him. The carpet seller’s wagon had transformed into an open carriage befitting

the Serpent King. Silver and blues, like dawn on the surface of a lake. Three of his huntsmen stood at the ready—only three,

which meant Rane was keeping the others disguised.

The one by the foot of the carriage gave me a little nod. That, I hoped, was Rane.

The Serpent King turned again. My gaze went to the far distance, to the city gates. My stomach plummeted: they were shut.

How were we going to get out?

“I thank you,” the Serpent King continued, “for providing an escort to the Rose Palace for my bride and me.”

The Rose Palace? My body stiffened with horror. But his words had a different effect on the guards. They were no longer inching

forward as if they would seize me, and their confusion had given way to a jostling eagerness to serve.

The Serpent King’s arm grew insistent, pushing me toward the carriage. A huntsman—Rane—gripped my elbow and helped me up and

into the plush interior. The Serpent King sat right beside me as if he knew I was about to throw myself out the window. I

scooted away from him.

The carriage glided to a roll, and the clip-clop of the horses was soon joined by the normal sounds of the street. Imperial

Guards jogged alongside, clearing the way with barked shouts, each looking puffed up and pleased with themselves.

Looking straight ahead, the Serpent King murmured, “Do play along. We cannot fight our way out.” Every word that left his

lips was framed by the hint of fangs.

“I’m not your bride,” I whispered.

“I’m well aware,” he bit out. “If you had stayed silent—if you had disclosed to us that you were a fugitive—we would not be

in this position.”

“It was a mistake.” Grimney was trembling against my leg. I patted him through the fabric of my skirt. My hands were shaking.

“A mistake? Yes. Rane certainly made a mistake this time.” His voice was bitter.

I bit my lip, glancing at the back of Rane’s helm. He didn’t give any indication he heard. “I’m sorry.”

“Sit closer and pretend you adore me, and hopefully we can manage a quick wedding.”

“Wedding?”

His gaze stayed calm, fixed in the distance. He didn’t respond.

My body was hot. “Your Highness, I refuse—I won’t—” His eyes cut to me with such anger that my confidence sprang a leak. “That

is, with all due respect, if you don’t mind terribly, I’d much rather not be forced into marriage. If that’s all right.”

“My little starling, you are quite mistaken. I am the one being forced.”

The arrogance in his voice made me grit my teeth. “Well, I release you from our betrothal. You can just let me off anywhere

that’s convenient....” And I’ll just disappear into the city’s underbelly. There must be somewhere for a girl and her golem

to hide.

His hand slid over mine, shocking me into silence. His skin was cold, his grip firm. “Would you give up your agreement with

Rane so easily?”

Easily? “But—isn’t that all over? How can we—”

“You must follow my lead. The only way we will leave this city now is if the djinn wishes for us to do so.” He exhaled, and

the tips of his fangs glinted. “You can still have what Rane promised you.”

The spires of the Rose Palace drew nearer.

I had two choices: I could throw myself over the side of the carriage and run past the guards, and keep running for as long as I lived, or I could trust an otherworldly monster with a documented hatred for jewelsmiths like me.

I reached for the carriage door but hesitated. We were passing the last few streets before the gates to the Palace Quarter.

Rane was too far to speak to without shouting loud enough for our escort to hear. And what would he say? He was bound to obey

his master.

The walls of the Palace Quarter rose up around us, and the chance was gone.

Our carriage took us through the gardens, where a party seemed to be underway. But all eyes were on us as we passed, and soon

we had a train of nobles following us. Our Imperial escort trailed far behind.

A footman in the Emperor’s colors waved us down a path. “This way, please.”

In the heart of the gardens was a pavilion. Nobles were thick on the ground, clustering around a raised marble dais. Lady

Incarnadine stood upon it, watching us approach. White silk fell from one shoulder and cinched around her slender waist, and

her arms were covered in gold, bracelets stacked to her elbow, her fingers tipped with gold like claws.

Behind her, in a chair so grand it could only be described as a throne, was the Emperor. A cloud of smoke hung in the air,

twisting and twirling, making him little more than a dark silhouette—except for the glittering whites of his eyes.

The carriage came to a stop. I reached for the door, but it opened for me, and a huntsman helped me down.

“Rane?” I whispered.

He hesitated, then gave a quick nod. “We mustn’t speak.”

Quickly, I pressed Grimney into his chest. “Please—keep him safe.”

Rane cradled Grimney carefully.

A hand settled on my back. The Serpent King forced me forward, toward the dais.

The sweetly smoky scent of burning resins filled my nose, and my eyes watered. I slowed my steps, letting the Serpent King

stride ahead. He seemed even larger, his silver hair flowing in the wind, his clothes muted in color save for the bloodred

sash at his waist. All eyes were on him.

I hung back with Rane and the huntsmen, but no one was looking at me.

The Serpent King swept into a theatrical bow before the Emperor. “I came to your palace having heard the tales of the Emperor’s

wards—so skilled, so wise, so charming—and I admit, I was curious. But when I came, I did not expect such charm and beauty

in every single one of your people, in every corner of your palace. I did not expect to be so swept away. I did not expect

to fall in love.”

The garden stilled as every noble seemed to hold their breath. Including me.

A small, satisfied smile graced Lady Incarnadine’s lips. “Who have you chosen?”

Several of Incarnadine’s Chosen were in the crowd, but my eyes went to Mirandel, who came forward, beautifully made up, a satisfied smile on her lips but calculation in her eyes.

I angled myself so a huntsman hid me from her view.

The Serpent King’s lips pursed when he noticed I wasn’t at his side. He strode to me, hand outstretched. Through gritted teeth,

he murmured, “Come along, my little mouse.”

He pulled me forward, and the weight of hundreds of gazes fell on me. I stared at my feet. From the crowd came a startled

laugh that was quickly choked off. My face burned as whispers erupted: Who is she?

He gripped my hand tight, then gently lifted it to his lips and kissed the air above my knuckles. “I choose her.”

An eruption of sound. I looked up.

The Serpent King held my gaze as if he meant it. No matter how the courtiers tittered, the brightness of his smile did not

dim. A strange feeling came over me. The longer his eyes held my gaze, the deeper he seemed to see into me.

I looked away first and caught a familiar figure pushing through the crowd. Galen. A pit opened up in my stomach.

“It can’t be,” Galen said. “My lady, that is my assistant.”

“The runaway?” Lady Incarnadine responded with far more courteousness than Galen had ever brought out in her, or anyone, really.

“How very interesting.”

Galen spluttered. “She cannot go off with the Serpent King—why, I can’t have it.”

The Serpent King’s voice was a hiss. “Who is this man to presume to tell me what I can do?”

“Master Galen is one of our most prized jewelsmiths. I believe his legend is only beginning,” said Lady Incarnadine. “I do not wish to deprive him.”

She smiled indulgently at Galen. A suspicion was sneaking up on me. He couldn’t have finished the tourmaline collar based

on my design, could he? My head spun.

“You are quite sure of your choice?” Lady Incarnadine said to the Serpent King.

The Serpent King’s voice grew a dangerous edge. “Whatever can you mean?”

“Merely that one might be offended that you did not choose among the jewels I collected for such a purpose.” She gestured

to the courtiers where many of her Chosen stood, including Mirandel. “You do recall that the Treaty of Tessel refers only

to the Emperor’s wards.”

His face betrayed no worry, but his grip tightened. “I must follow my heart.”

“So you would forfeit the Emperor’s protections?”

“We have not needed them thus far.”

The crowd reacted as if he had spat in her face. It was a duel, I realized suddenly, and I didn’t know all of what they were

fighting about, but I knew that the shape of my life would be decided by the victor.

“We have welcomed you here to forge a bridge and bring peace,” Lady Incarnadine said. “But we will not tolerate threats.”

“I have made no threat,” the Serpent King said. Imperial Guards outnumbered the huntsmen five to one. “My presence here is

a testament that I share your vision of peace.”

“Then why have you made a mockery of us? What can you mean by coming here with this girl ?” She sounded as disgusted as if I were a cockroach.