Page 26 of Embrace the Serpent

Barad half jokingly offered Rane a place in the troupe. He couldn’t bring himself to make me the same offer, joke or not. I figured he couldn’t risk that I would take him up on it.

I let Grimney out the moment they were out of sight, and he stretched with such a flair for drama that I wished Barad could

have seen it.

Bathing became an obsession. We made our way as before. Wherever there was an inn or resthouse, Rane would order a bath, and

I’d scrub myself raw.

It was at the last inn, when I came down freshly scrubbed, my hair drying into a poofy mess, that I saw the map. It was painted

on the wall. My eyes caught on a name that was faded, like someone had halfheartedly scrubbed at it—Marehold. I mapped it

out with my fingers. We were not two days’ ride from it.

“We’re close,” Rane said from behind me. I shivered. He wasn’t talking about Marehold.

“Have I got it all off?”

He held a hand out, paused for permission, and when I nodded, drew a lock of my hair into his hands. He encircled my wrist

and raised it. His breath puffed against my skin and goose bumps rose in its wake. “Almost.”

“We can’t enter until it’s all gone.”

He studied me. “There’s a waterfall, not far from the crossing. We’ll stop there.”

We moved quickly. Rane had a purse with a seemingly unending supply of coin, and he bought me a new bag. I washed all my tools before transferring them over. Grimney ran away when I told him to bathe, and Rane had to grab him and bribe him with seashells.

Rane held Grimney under one arm. “We’ll have to ride.”

“You mean horses?”

“It’ll be fine,” he said as he left for the stables.

He came back leading two horses. A gray shaggy one and a sleek dark one. The gray one was mine. It gave me a distrusting look

out of the corner of its eye. “It hates me.”

“She’s a lovely old mare, slow and reliable,” Rane said. “In fact, she’s a grandma.”

“Grandmas can hate people too,” I said.

He looked to the sky. “Just get on her.”

He helped me up, his hands gripping my waist. The ghost of his touch lingered. But luckily, I was soon distracted by the terror

of being high off the ground, at the whims of an unknowable beast.

My rear slid around on the saddle, and then when the horse began to move, I gripped tight with my thighs, but each step sent

my bones bouncing.

Rane took the reins, looping them around his wrist. My horse looked at him and then back at me, as if judging me for having

him lead us.

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” I whispered to it.

“Sorry?” Rane said.

“Not you,” I said. And then, realizing how that sounded, I added, “I was talking to the horse.”

“...And what was she saying?”

He was laughing.

Grimney, seated before him, was grinning up at him adoringly.

“What happens after I finish the work?” I asked.

“Whatever you want. You’ll have your new identity. A shop. Riches.”

I was silent.

“What do you want to happen?” he asked.

I shot him a glance. “The Serpent King said some of the divine peoples live outside his kingdom. Like the water horses.”

“Some do.”

“Would you?”

He drew in a breath.

My face must have been radiating heat. “Never mind.”

“I dream about it, sometimes, being free of my responsibilities. There’s so much of this world I haven’t seen, so many of

its people I’d love to meet. Jewelsmithing fascinates me. It’s not something we have in the kingdom, not anymore. But it used

to be part of our history.”

My scarred and callused jewelsmith’s hands.

“What I mean to say,” he said, “is that there is a part of me that would love to work in your jewelsmithery. I could sweep

up, if you liked.”

I stole a look at him. “Maybe, if you work hard, one day I’ll promote you to my apprentice.”

His hair fell into his eyes as he smiled. “What an honor that would be.”

My nose got a whiff of fresh rain, which was a welcome change to the green earthiness of damp bark and the sweet rot of leaves decaying underfoot. A mist hung low to the ground, and as our horses picked their way through, it eddied in lazy swirls around their legs.

The dappled sunlight painted Rane in gold and shadow. His broad shoulders caught the light, but his back was shadowed. The

lock of hair that curled into his collar was gold. His long fingers as he helped Grimney position a seashell, those too were

gold.

He glanced back, and I jerked my gaze to the side.

“We’re here.” Rane pulled back a large fern, and beyond, the waterfall shone like a stream of silver.

It sang in a dozen voices. A low moan, a tinkle of droplets, a babbling as the water danced around the smooth rocks jutting

out of the pool, and loudest of all, a liquid purr as it streamed from above and plunged into the pool below.

Rane dismounted in one smooth movement, and I held my breath as he gripped my waist and helped me down. My legs were stiff

and throbbing, and I felt like I’d be permanently bowlegged.

The air was scented with herbs, bitter and aromatic. I knelt and touched one, its thin gray leaves pebbled with droplets that

glimmered like jewels.

“They say the plants here are special,” Rane said. “The waters are blessed. A star fell in love with a light she saw dancing

on the surface of the pool. She watched, night after night, and one day, she fell from the sky to meet her beloved. As she

fell, the light grew brighter and brighter, and in the moment before she fell into the water and was extinguished, she realized

it was her own reflection. They say her spirit is still here, and at night, the stars above are reflected in this pool brighter

than anywhere else in the world.”

“Is that true?”

“Perhaps. But it has been a long time since a star has come to earth. I’ve never met one.”

How strange he seemed in that moment. He was still a divine person, no matter how familiar he was becoming.

“I’ll be over there,” Rane said. “Call if you need me.”

His back disappeared into the trees. He whistled an unfamiliar tune that melded with sounds of the waterfall and the singing

of the birds and the chattering of tree-dwelling creatures. I waited till his whistling felt like it was within range of a

shout, but far enough away that I could bathe in privacy.

Grimney toddled along the riverbank, picking at the smooth stones. “Stand watch,” I said to him. He saluted. I dropped my

bag onto a flat boulder beside him.

I undressed, and the wind caressed my skin. I shivered. In the dappled sunlight, my skin glittered faintly, the specks of

jeweldust sparse. Maybe it was the influence of Rane’s story, but they made me think of constellations.

The water was cool and clear; the silty riverbed was soft underfoot, and it deepened gradually. A current flowed, a dark ribbon

deep in the pool, feeding an underground stream.

My bag now held a collection of soaps, from dried soapberries, to a scrubby aromatic powder made from green gram and orange

peels. I used one after the other, scrubbing my hair until it squeaked, and my skin until it smarted.

I stood under the waterfall and let the pressure beat down on me and wash the soap away. Pleasure and pain mingled as it worked

the tension from my shoulders.

Under the light, my arm no longer glittered. My heart leapt as I checked every inch of skin and hair.

My focus was so narrow that it took me precious moments to notice that the forest had fallen silent.

Grimney stood still, watching the trees.

I darted to my bag, reaching for the bundle of fresh clothes inside, and dressed quickly, ignoring the way the fabric clung

to my skin.

The back of my neck prickled. I spun around.

The mist clung to her, as if she was an apparition. Mirandel, draped in white, strode to me. “Aria,” she said. “You’ve been

hard to find.”

“Saphira,” I corrected her.

Her neck was oddly red. She drew her white silk shawl higher when she noticed the direction of my gaze.

“You’ve been making it harder to track you lately,” she said. “Though, if I must be honest, I’m a little disappointed it took

you so long to figure it out.”

My mouth twisted into a scowl. “Why are you following me? I thought you were supposed to go get married to some noble.”

“Unfortunately, you stole the one I had my eye on.”

I bit my lip before I could say, You can have him.

Mirandel sighed and tossed her hair. It fell over her shoulder like a curtain of dark silk. “Come home.”

“Why would I do that?” I needed time. Rane wasn’t whistling. Was he watching? I scanned the trees, but there was no sign of

him.

“You always had trouble understanding the way the world works,” she said pityingly.

“You’re a jewelsmith. An extraordinary one.

You should’ve told everyone. I can’t imagine why you didn’t.

If you had, you would be sitting pretty, with all the luxuries of life at your fingertips.

You’re cleverer than Galen—you could have had real power, not just a shabby little shop on Gem Lane.

You could’ve had it all. You still can, if you come with me. I’ll help you.”

Her mention of Galen made me tense. Part of me wanted to know what had happened to him. I bit it back. “I don’t want that.”

“I know what you want,” Mirandel hissed. She drew so close I could see the violet shadows under her eyes. “You want what I

want. You want to be safe.”

I reared back.

“Yes.” She smiled, but there was no mirth in it. “I told you; I know you. The difference between you and me is that I know

how to get there. With enough power, you can be safe.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want that.”

“So you’ll keep running forever? You’re a coward, Saphira. You always have been. Hiding and sniveling. If you were just once

brave enough to take what you wanted...”

I didn’t disagree. I wasn’t brave, I knew that well enough.

“Well?” Mirandel said. “Say something.”

“You’re talking enough for the both of us.”

“I’m trying to help you.”

“Why? You don’t even like me.”

“I do. I always have. I just—I don’t know how to—be nice.”

She set her mouth in that gargoyle-ish way I remembered from so long ago.

It made my heart ache. Between us was something dark and unsaid.

We had both survived our childhood, but neither of us had come out unchanged.

A memory came to me, of her bringing me food she’d filched from the kitchens, yelling at me to eat.

I missed the friend she almost had been.

“I’m not coming with you,” I said. “I won’t be kept in a cage to make jewels for her.”

We both knew who I meant. She clicked her teeth. “Lady Incarnadine won’t hurt you. Not now that you’re useful to her.”

“I don’t want to be useful to her.”

“We all have to kneel, Saphira. All you get to do is choose to whom.”

I didn’t respond.

“Please. Come. My orders were to bring you alive, if possible. If impossible, I was told it’s better to have you dead than

in the Serpent Kingdom.”

“You’ll kill me?”

“If I wanted to kill you, would I have spent this long yapping? No. I don’t want to. So don’t make me.”

I’m not making you, I wanted to say. Incarnadine is.

I crossed my arms, and she met my mulish expression with one of her own.

“Let the stars know that I tried.” Mirandel drew out something golden from her pocket.

The yellow tourmaline choker. She put it on in one quick motion.

I clapped my hands over my ears.

“Saphira,” she said, and her voice was like honey, even muffled. “Lower your hands. Come with me.”

My hands fell to my sides, my feet shuffled forward. I tightened my thighs, resisting.

“You want to come with me,” Mirandel said.

I wanted to go with her. My body moved. There was something I needed to remember—

“Take my hand.” She held out a hand, and I took it. “All right, men,” she said.

Imperial soldiers came out of the woods. Dozens of them, from all directions. I saw them at the edges of my vision; I couldn’t

look away from Mirandel. Her dark kohl-lined eyes studied me.

One of the Imperial soldiers rose like a shadow behind her.

Her eyes widened, and her hand pulled free of mine, reaching for her neck.

The tourmaline collar fell, knocked aside, and flew into the water.

“Get it!” Mirandel shouted.

A honeyed veil fell from my mind, and I scrambled back, away from her. From the pool came a splash . Grimney had the collar. He waved it triumphantly and dove into the water.

The soldiers trained arrows on him.

Mirandel screamed. “Shoot!”

I darted into the water, after Grimney.

The air filled with haunting whistles.

I glanced back, time slowing to a crawl. Arrows flew toward me, and a soldier sprinted toward me, his illusion melting away,

his eyes dark with fear.

Rane’s body hit me and knocked me down into the water. He breathed into my ear. “Are you all right?”

I found myself nodding. He pushed himself up and turned around.

An arrow in his side dripped blood. A drop fell to the water and spread.

Another and another, a rivulet of red, twining with the water and touching the dark soil at the pool’s edge.

A hissing came from the water, from the earth, from the air.

Serpents poured from the forest. Cobras, vipers, in every color and pattern.

I screamed, and I wasn’t the only one. The soldiers screamed as the serpents slithered up their legs, as they were consumed

by the mass of snakes.

The serpents came for Mirandel. She wrested a bow from a soldier and nocked an arrow.

A haunting whistle. An arrow hit Rane in the chest, right in the heart. He fell backward, and I caught him.

I held Rane up as he reached for the water, trailing his fingers in a careful pattern. He murmured something, and a horse

rose from the water, so pale it was almost blue.

Mirandel and the soldiers had been forced back into the forest, but I caught flashes of light as they swung blades, cutting

a path through the serpents.

“Saphira,” Rane said. “We must go home.”

“Yes,” I said urgently. “Tell me how.”

Rane’s eyes rolled back, and he fainted.

The water horse whinnied. “Come here,” I said to it. “Please. Help me, and I’ll get you whatever treats you want. And I’ll

never say anything bad about horses ever again.”

It padded close and knelt. I dragged Rane onto its back. “Grims!” I called, and Grimney rose. The collar wasn’t in his hands,

but that didn’t matter. I scooped him up and climbed up on the horse’s back, behind Rane. His body slumped against me, fever-warm.

“Please,” I whispered to the horse, “Take us home.”