Page 22 of Embrace the Serpent

His cheeks reddened. “I’ve expended a lot of energy saving someone . At full power, I’m better than Rane.”

I shrugged. “It’s okay to admit you’re not very good at something.”

I knew I shouldn’t bait him. He could snap my neck at any moment, and he seemed to be irritated enough to want to.

“Come here,” he said. “I’ll put one on you.”

He moved as fast as a cobra and that telltale warmth trickled from my crown down my skin to my toes.

I opened my mouth, and he hushed me. “Remember, speak no truths. Or perhaps, speak not at all.”

We made our way on foot into Copperton, entering through an open-air bazaar. Mothers hurried their children along, sellers

shuttered their market stalls, and a whisper worked its way through the market. They’re coming.

They gave the Serpent King a wide berth, on account of his Imperial uniform. I followed a few paces behind, as a glance down

told me I appeared to be a large-footed woman with spidery hands, and I didn’t quite know what that meant. Thankfully, gazes

slid over my face without pause, so however peculiar I might’ve looked, I was still unremarkable.

The way up the hill to the palace of Prince Adi—which was now better known as the Copper Manor, home to the Lord and Lady Copper—was busy with servants hurrying to set things right.

A pair of women swept the road, while another pair trimmed the orange trees that lined the street, their trimmings falling onto the freshly swept road.

I skirted around the sweepers as they shouted at the tree trimmers.

A low gate let into a bustling courtyard, and the Serpent King paused. Without looking at me, he murmured, “We meet after

one hour, regardless of if we fail or succeed.”

He strode into the courtyard, glancing at the stables, then the guardhouse, and then disappeared around the corner. He’d look

for the cellars, the dungeons, the jails.

I waited for a group of maids to cross the courtyard and trailed after them. They chattered excitedly about the Imperial soldiers

that were soon to arrive. Apparently, they found the uniforms dashing.

Inside the manor, I split from them. My instructions were to not get myself in trouble and, secondarily, to search for a sign

of the huntsmen. But since the Serpent King had assigned himself all the likeliest spots, I intended to do no more than make

a careful, quick circuit and get out.

“You, girl.” A matronly voice came from behind me.

I met the gaze of a woman whose hair was in a severe bun, a large set of keys on a sash at her waist. A housekeeper.

“What’s your name?” the housekeeper asked. Her brows pinched as she looked me up and down. What on earth did I look like?

A lie. I needed a lie to keep the illusion on, but I suddenly couldn’t remember a single name. My pocket wiggled, and weakly,

I said, “Grim... elda. Grimelda.”

The housekeeper cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Was I sure? If I said yes, did that mean I was sure that I was Grimelda—which would be a lie, and therefore safe—or did it mean I was sure I meant to say Grimelda—which might count as a truth and break the illusion? To be safe, I said, “I... am... Grimelda.”

“Is that all you can say?”

I swallowed around the knot in my throat. If I said no, that would be the truth, right? The only safe answer was: “Yes.”

“Yes?” the housekeeper repeated.

Oh gods. The housekeeper thought I was an idiot. I went on weakly, “I mean, I was hired this morning. I’m supposed to, uh,

stoke the fire.”

“Devaul’s cousin, eh?” The housekeeper shook her head. “Fine, get on with it.”

I began to dip my head in a nod and then stopped—did nodding count? Oh, but it didn’t matter—it was a lie, I wasn’t Devaul’s

cousin. But seconds had passed with me holding my neck out strangely.

I ran before the housekeeper could say anything more. She was still watching me, so I joined two maids as they scurried into

the banquet hall.

A chill shook me as I stepped over the threshold, into a grand hall of such a dark gray that it was almost blue. Grimney pinched

my leg, and I smothered my yelp and pressed a hand to the lump in my dress. My hand—it looked like my real hand. The illusion

was gone.

The floor was tiled with it, the walls were made of it. I had to get out of here. The ceiling was lead-gray, the fireplace

was gray. The Serpent King’s story about Prince Adi’s lead-lined banquet hall—it was true.

I sucked in a breath.

The huntsmen. They were kneeling in a line on the far wall, hands tied behind their backs, most still armored and helmed.

They were sitting docile, each flanked by two Imperial Guards. The two unhelmed ones bore bruises and a spattering of blood.

Neither of them was Rane.

A round man in copper robes marched in front of them, crowing something about having captured them.

I backed out of the banquet hall, then ducked into the courtyard and hurried through the gates. In an alcove set in the stone

wall, shielded from view, I brought out Grimney. “Are you all right?”

He moved sluggishly, but he nodded.

I kissed his forehead and cradled him, waiting. Not twenty minutes later, a lantern-jawed guard marched by, and I stepped

in line with him. He startled at the sight of me, and quickly came the feeling of warm milk trickling down my skin.

Once we were down a side street, he spoke. “They were moved recently. I saw where they were holding them—”

“I know where they are.” I told him about the banquet hall, about the illusion failing.

His brows pinched together. “More guards are coming, straight from the Imperial City. Along with one they call the Interrogator.”

“What shall we do?”

He paced. “Without illusions, without my abilities... Two guards per huntsman might be decent odds, with a big enough distraction...

But without my abilities, it’s a risk. They’re looking for you. And if you’re captured, we’ll never find another jewelsmith

of your caliber.”

I tried not to take it as praise, but my cheeks heated.

A poor man passed us, offering us copper scraps for a few coins. The Serpent King shook his head, and the man went on. But

the thing about copper is that it has a bunch of peculiar properties, in addition to turning pale turquoise-green when exposed

to the elements. A big enough distraction ... “I have an idea.”

Not a half hour later, we were prepared. I was without an illusion—as we figured it would be dangerous to risk someone seeing

my face change as I entered the hall—but I was not undisguised. We had bought an apron to go over my outfit, and I’d put my

hair up in a tight bun that matched the maids scurrying in and out of the Copper Manor. The Serpent King had smudged dirt

on my cheekbones and chin, which altered my looks enough to make it difficult to recognize me. I hoped.

“Do you remember the signal?” the Serpent King asked, wearing his Imperial Guard illusion.

“How could I forget it?” I said, already dreading the moment I’d have to speak the words. “I don’t understand how it’s a signal.”

He scratched his neck. “It’s just one of those things. A phrase among friends. They’ll understand, and it’ll get them to move.”

“It’s just a bit mean.”

He let out a surprised laugh, and then his eyes darkened. “Well, we are monsters.”

I twisted the edge of my apron, flustered.

“It’s time, I think,” he said, not unkindly.

I nodded. “Please, take care of him.”

Grimney waved goodbye dejectedly from the sash around the Serpent King’s waist.

“I will.” He reached out and caught my wrist. “Be safe.”

I took a deep breath and strode back into the courtyard. Dressed like a maid, I was near invisible, and I slipped into the

manor with ease.

A girl hurried down the hall, clutching a flagon of wine, and I followed her into the banquet hall. My skin prickled with

unease amongst all this lead. It was busier than it had been. The huntsmen hadn’t moved, nor had the guards.

More people filled in. Servants, tidying. The Lord and Lady Copper were adjusting the decorations along the massive banquet

table. A half dozen of their children—judging by the uniformity of their copper-colored clothing—milled about, munching on

tiny little appetizers, waiting to take their seats. A handful of other nobles strolled around the room with drinks in hand.

Despite their surroundings, some people wore jewels. One man’s eyes flickered, the color changing from green to brown, as

the jewel between his eyes struggled against the dampening effect of the lead.

It wasn’t a perfect seal. Even if they had used pure lead brick for the walls, the mortar was a weak point. The interior of

the fireplace would have been made with firesafe brick, rather than lead. The weakest points of all were the arched windows

that opened to the courtyard, letting in the red-gold light of sunset.

There was a sense of expectation that was palpable in how everyone angled themselves toward the door, how glances darted to

the entrance.

The Interrogator, probably. Better to make our move before they arrived.

My heart thudded, and I headed for the fireplace. I made sure no one was looking and dug out fistfuls of copper scraps.

Through the arched window, I met the Serpent King’s disguised eyes. He nodded.

Okay.

I dumped the copper into the fire, emptying my pockets by the fistfuls.

Most jewelsmiths know this, but most other people don’t. When heated, copper produces a bluish-green flame. I’d once asked

Galen why, and he told me that it was the spirit of the metal coming out in flame. Which sounded like a rather pretty, poetic

reason, but it had troubled me—why should copper have a bluish-green spirit and why should lead have a whitish one? And why

should gold and silver have no spirit? Anyway, Galen told me to shut it. So I still didn’t know exactly why it happened. But

it sure looked incredible.

The fire blazed green. It cast the dining hall in eerie blue-green underwater light. The shadows on every face lengthened.

A maid screamed, and then one of the guards did.

A boy ran in, shrieking, “A ghost! In the courtyard!”

The nobles shouted—someone threw a plate that crashed against the wall.

I drew in a breath and shouted the signal: “Are you snakes, or are you worms?” And I ducked, my cheeks hot—I hadn’t known

my voice could get that loud.

At my words, the huntsmen startled and, just like the Serpent King said they would, flew into action, catching their captors unawares. They fought with bound hands, until their bindings were cut by a blade—a table knife—that passed between them as quick as the wind.

I crawled out as things flew through the air, shoving through the people flooding through the door and out into the courtyard.

More screams. I looked up.

Hovering above the flagstones was a pillar of green fire, and somehow the flames twisted and turned and appeared to be a giant

bearded face. Its mouth opened, and out rolled a long tongue of fire. “I am the souls of the forest that once stood here.

Long have my children wept for the trees being cut down. They wander the land and have come to take their vengeance on those

who have made a profit on their suffering!”

The Serpent King’s gaze was intent on the illusion, but he glanced down, scanning the crowd. For his huntsmen, most likely,

but when his gaze landed on me, his brows unclenched and he visibly drew in a relieved breath. I nodded at him.

He mouthed, Go.

Balls of green fire shot out from the pillar over people’s heads. One came close, and the flame had a little cherubic face

that was laughing rather wickedly. There was no heat, but it cast a convincing blue-green light.

The great bearded face thundered, “The innocent will be spared. But if you are guilty, run! Run, if you think you can escape

me!”

Chaos. Everyone ran, nobles and servants alike, shoving through the gate and jumping over the low wall.

I ran with them, bursting out into the street. The crowd flew downhill, streaming like water around the long line of carriages

that were clip-clopping up to the Copper Manor.

A woman’s voice barked, “What is this madness?”

She stuck her head out of her carriage, and her dark hair streamed like silk in the wind. Mirandel.

And there, on her neck, gleamed a large yellow tourmaline set in a collar with five segments.

I ducked my head and ran, not stopping for anything, not until the sky was full dark and I was outside the town, in the sheltered

grove where the Serpent King and I had decided to meet.

The back of my neck prickled. I couldn’t see anything in the dark, but the silence wasn’t empty.

A lantern flared to life, illuminating a man with dark wavy hair and a slender, smiling face. Rane. “You did it,” he said.

Grimney leapt out of his hands and into mine, crashing into my collarbone. I laughed.

Applause came from the huntsmen. “Our savior,” one of them said. Another answered, “No worms today,” and I couldn’t tell if

it was a joke.

I scanned them for the Serpent King.

“We should go,” Rane said. “It’ll be just you and me from here on out. We’re splitting up. Now that they’re looking for you,

the safest way to get to the kingdom is in small groups.” He followed my gaze. “The injured have already left.”

“What about the king?”

He paused. “He’s safe, of course. He left with them. He thought you’d be more comfortable with me.”

I nodded and ignored the odd emptiness in my chest. “I’m ready.”