Page 17 of Embrace the Serpent

Soft gold morning light filtered in through the sheer drapes. Grimney was curled up on top of the coverlet, and there was

a suspicious patch devoid of glass beads just about within gnawing distance.

The Serpent King was gone. All that remained of last night was a small scab on my fingertip and the drop of blood on the sheets.

I couldn’t stop looking at it, but I didn’t know why.

I curled up, resting my chin on my knees. The blood told a lie; I wondered what else about the Serpent King was a lie. Like

the rumor that he sucked virgins dry of their blood. But maybe that was true; maybe he was just on a diet.

After a furtive wash—sure someone would barge in at any moment—I dressed, pocketed a sleeping Grimney, and slung my bag over

my shoulder. I packed my tools more carefully and drew out the bag of tracker stones.

A pair of Imperial Guards were in the hallway. One elbowed the other as he noticed me, but they didn’t follow. I made my way

out of the manor without seeing the Serpent King or his huntsmen. There were Imperial Guards stationed everywhere; I felt

their eyes on me, but they kept their distance.

I supposed Cobalt Town was small enough, and walled enough, that they figured there was nowhere I could run. The familiar hubbub of a market tempted me, and I followed the sound to the main square.

It was market day in Cobalt Town. The main square was filled with a mix of oxcarts and street peddlers, farmers selling rice

and dried lentils along with buffalo milk, palm fruits, and mildly wilted vegetables. Some simple toys. It wasn’t a grand

market for nobles; it was aimed at those who worked in the cobalt mines, the soldiers of the barracks, the farmers to trade

with each other.

I weighed the drawstring bag of tracker stones. I hated feeling like Incarnadine knew where I was, and though I couldn’t do

anything about our escort, I could get rid of these.

But as I went through the market, the hairs on the back of my neck stood upright. I glanced at a stallkeeper, and he quickly

averted his gaze. He wore clothing in the Imperial style favored by city dwellers, and I let a few stones fall from my palm

into the corner of his cart.

I avoided the folks who seemed to come from nearby—the local farmers, the kind selling palm fruit and desert shrubs—and focused

on the merchants who seemed to have come from the Imperial City, as well as those who wore garments in foreign styles. These

were traveling merchants, and they would take the tracker stones far.

But the deeper I went into the market, the more I had the sensation that if eyes could shoot needles, I’d be a pincushion.

Everyone was looking at me, but no one met my eye.

I caught a sweets seller whispering behind her hand to her neighbor; both dropped their gazes when I clocked them.

They were looking at me, but seeing another Saphira, one who was the beloved bride of the Serpent King, one who had become

a real woman last night. There was the truth, and there was the story.

Like a breath of fresh air, a thought came to me suddenly: no one sees reality. There’s only the story we tell ourselves,

and that becomes the lens through which we see the world. But if we don’t know we’re looking through a lens, we mistake the

story for the real thing.

They didn’t see me, but they thought they did. And now that they believed the lie, what they felt when they looked at me was

real fear.

A hand gripped my shoulder. A huntsman. “My lady. Your husband has been looking for his beloved wife.”

The young daughter of a shopkeeper overheard and squeaked, running away like she’d heard some great bit of gossip.

“Fantastic,” I said, pocketing the rest of the stones.

“I’m afraid that’s just the effect your husband has on people.”

I winced at the word husband. “I’m not him.”

“That makes you more frightening. You’re the fearsome woman who brought the Serpent King low. In fact, just this morning I

heard you charmed him with nothing but a flute.”

There was something too amused in his tone. I squinted at the huntsman. “Rane?”

He tugged off his helm. “At your service.”

I hesitated, but it came out of me. “Does he like that people fear him?”

Rane understood who I meant, because he said quietly, “He has to be what they expect him to be.”

“Because...” I said, slowly, worried it was too forward, “it keeps him safe.”

His dark eyes were opaque, revealing nothing. He inclined his head, conceding. “What was that you were doing earlier?”

A change of subject. “I was getting rid of a wedding present.” I showed him the bag. “Tracker stones.”

Rane’s brows pinched together. “Oh, I was wondering what that was.”

“You didn’t know? But I thought—there was a snake—”

“Yes, but snakes don’t have ears. It’s all vibration. If you’d been in danger, I’d have seen and jumped in. But it’s not an

especially good form for espionage.”

I digested this. So he didn’t know what kind of offer Incarnadine made me. And still he trusted me?

“Do you mind if I take these?” he asked. “For the—well, I never told you what I came to tell you, which is—” He broke off

and craned his neck. “Oh, what a lovely market. Shall we?” Abruptly, Rane pivoted toward the stalls. I trailed after him,

glancing over my shoulder and meeting the gaze of an Imperial Guard.

Rane bought things at random, trading them again at other market stalls, and somehow, he ended up holding nothing. He paused

before a tiny girl with a toothy grin. She squatted before a small table, on which were three copper cups, upside down. “Try

yer luck, sar?”

“Certainly,” Rane said, flipping her a coin. The girl placed his coin under the middle cup, and then shuffled them so fast

her hands seemed to blur.

He glanced over his shoulder at the guards, who were inspecting every stall we had entered. He leaned toward me. “I think

we’ve got a moment to ourselves.”

I pitched my voice low. “What did you want to tell me?”

“You know that special talent of mine? I’ll be putting on a show later today, for our new friends. Think they might enjoy

the scenic route, if you understand what I mean.”

“I see,” I said. “Are we speaking in code?”

“Can’t be too careful.”

“You should’ve told me earlier,” I said. “I’ve already given away most of the... wedding present.”

“It doesn’t matter. The show will still go on.”

“Will you tell me anything more about it?”

“I’d better not. Just trust me, and trust your husband. He’ll keep you safe.”

I crossed my arms. Trust him? I didn’t consider myself particularly unintelligent, but I had a feeling I was about to make

the same mistake I’d made with Galen and with Mirandel. Maybe I was already in the process of making it, considering that

I’d let myself get married.

Only a fool needed to be taught the same lesson thrice.

“You’re upset,” Rane said.

“I’m fine.”

“That seems like code for I’m upset. ”

“I’m not speaking in code.”

“I promise I’ll tell you everything you want to know, after the show.” His eyes seemed sincere, his face was earnest, he wasn’t fidgeting.

“Everything?” I asked.

“Everything that’s safe to tell,” he amended.

He was worming his way out of it already.

The little girl had finished shuffling the cups. I pointed to the one on the left. The girl lifted it—nothing. “Sorry, my

lady. Try again?”

“No,” I said. “I’m afraid I know how my luck goes.” I made my way through the crowd; they parted for me like they feared getting

in my way.

“Saphira,” Rane called after me. “I’m sorry.”

I let him catch up to me, then pressed the bag of tracker stones into his hands. “We’ll talk after,” I said.

He gave me a hopeful little smile. “Will you wish me luck?”

“Do you need it?”

“It’ll be horribly dangerous.”

“I thought you said I wasn’t in danger.”

“Not for you, for me.”

“Good luck,” I said flatly. “Come back safe.”

“I feel like you don’t really mean it. You do mean it, don’t you?”

“How about this. I’ll tell you the truth, after your show.”

He laughed.

The carriage lurched. I looked up from Grimney’s open mouth—I was plucking the glass beads that were stuck between his teeth—and

lifted the short drapes.

The desert had given way to wide open plains, and now the plains were bowing to rolling hills.

The breeze was cool and brought with it the green smell of growing things.

The hills were a green so deep it was almost blue, and nestled in the valleys like sleeping cats were forests of squat, densely packed trees.

A soft mist wound its way through the hills. I shivered.

I peeked out the back window. Directly behind us was a plain carriage driven by one of the Serpent King’s huntsmen, and behind

them was a line of Imperial carriages carrying the rest of our entourage. There were a few huntsmen on horseback, but they

were outnumbered by Imperial outriders almost four to one.

I shut the latch and straightened up. The Serpent King hadn’t said a word to me. He was pretending to be asleep.

At the head of our caravan was another plain carriage driven by a huntsman. His helm was on, but dark hair curled at the nape

of his neck. It could be Rane. It might not be. But under my breath, I wished him luck.

The Imperial Road wound between the hills, keeping as flat as possible, but with a handful of unavoidable inclines that slowed

our progress. It was on one such incline that a man on horseback caught up to us. He was riding hard, sweating, and both he

and his horse wore sashes bearing the Emperor’s crown. A messenger. He handed a scroll to one of the Imperial Guards.

The guard read the scroll and then maneuvered his horse to run alongside us and knocked on our carriage door. “My lord,” he

said to the Serpent King, “Lady Incarnadine requests that you break your journey at Copperton.”

“Does she.” His voice was deeply unimpressed. “Did she say why?”

The guard’s eyes darted to the scroll and back. “To honor you and your wife, my lord.” He craned his neck till he met my gaze.

“My lady.”