Page 29 of Embrace the Serpent

I was once again in my parents’ old rooms. The ocean roar mingled with the blood rushing in my ears. There was a careful path

my gaze had to travel, to avoid my mother’s wardrobe, the stain on the carpet, even the lattice screen that shielded the bed,

because if I looked there, I could almost see my mother, sitting on the edge of the low bed, combing her long dark hair—

I slapped my cheeks. I needed to stop.

In a wooden trunk, I found several of my father’s clothes. It seemed he had been rather taken with the billowy tunics preferred

by the kingdoms of the northwest, because that was all he had. I picked the first that didn’t fall to pieces when I shook

it out.

I rose and stopped in my tracks.

Rane had followed me. He was bare-chested but for his bandages, but it didn’t seem to bother him, despite the chill of the

ocean air.

He moved to the balcony. “I hadn’t realized we were in Marehold. I wonder why the water horse brought us here.”

I thrust the tunic at him, and he took it gingerly, careful not to brush my fingers.

“You know this place?” I asked in my most nonchalant voice.

“It’s not far from the border,” he said. “The people here were great allies to us, once.”

“Did you know them?”

He inclined his head. “Some of the survivors took refuge in my kingdom.”

It was on the tip of my tongue. I think this was my home. But I didn’t think I could talk about it without crying, and I couldn’t bear to cry in front of him.

“We should go,” I said instead.

“Yes. Before that girl with the horrible necklace shows up.”

I left without looking back.

Grimney was waiting for us in the courtyard, already mounted on the displeased-looking water horse. I was glad it hadn’t melted

away into mist, or returned to the ocean, or whatever its kind did. But as Rane helped me up and then mounted behind me, my

back tingling with the heat of him, I wished that it had gone. If we were on foot, we wouldn’t have to touch at all.

But then again, if we were on foot, that would make it easier for Mirandel or anyone tracking us to catch up.

We were at the forest’s edge when I glanced back.

The green-blanketed village was bathed in silver moonlight. I tried to picture what my homeland must’ve once looked like.

I had the faintest memory of walking down a busy sunlit street, dodging skirts and robed legs, a large hand gripping mine

tight. There was something sweet on the air, a sugared treat, and I wanted it. A soft voice came from above—

I couldn’t remember.

There was nothing of that left. No people, no busy street. Just vines and ruins and a sadness that was so palpable I could imagine it taking form, a hulking shadow that crept through the palace and the plant-eaten streets, mourning and mourning forevermore.

But my homeland hadn’t just withered away. It had been put to death. And maybe I could keep running from Incarnadine for the

rest of my life, but I could never run back home.

“Saphira?”

I jolted out of my thoughts and twisted to glance at him.

Rane’s expression was inscrutable. “That day... You said you were an Imperial Ward. I never asked where you came from.”

Was I that transparent? All I could manage was a tight shrug.

His breath puffed against my ear. “I’m sorry.”

I cleared my throat and changed the subject. “What should I call you?”

“Rane is my name, or at least the part of it I like best. I was born Adamant Temerane of the House of Naga.”

It was easier, somehow, to talk to him like this, where he couldn’t see my expression and I didn’t have to meet his eyes.

Something about his confession had been bothering me.

“There were times when you and the Serpent King were in the same place.”

“Yes,” he said, his voice a rumble at my back. “My huntsmen are all able to take on the role, so to speak, as long as I put

the illusion on them. We prepared for this mission specifically; we assumed that anything that could go wrong would do so.

But there’s little we can’t escape with a hearty amount of misdirection, a bit of flash, and a mild amount of chaos.”

“Our wedding,” I said, “who was the Serpent King then?”

“I was.”

“The carriage ride out of the city?”

“That was Vanon. Of all my huntsmen, he knows me best. When I’m not wearing the guise of the Serpent King, he usually is.”

I frowned, remembering the way he had groaned about sitting with me.

Rane seemed to understand my silence, because he said, “Was he horrible? He’s usually a little horrible. He was born that

way. Cautious and cynical.”

“Was it him you were arguing with, that night in the tent, before the wedding?”

“You heard that? Yes, that was him.”

“Cobalt Town? Our wedding night?”

“That was me. I wouldn’t have—and anyway, it’s not like we—” He snapped his mouth shut with an audible click. “Next question.”

There was one question that lingered on the tip of my tongue. Who was the Serpent King in the forest, covered in blood?

I couldn’t bring myself to ask, not pressed so close to him, not when I didn’t know what that would mean.

The air grew warmer and humid as the vegetation grew denser and wetter. The sounds of the wild surrounded us, the canopy teeming

with birdsong and a strange chittering, creatures rustling through the vegetation below. Small flowers grew on everything

like stars, scenting the air sweetly, mingling with the scent of mushrooms and damp.

We came to a small clearing. Rane drew the horse to a standstill before a wall of trees so tangled with vines that we would

need to hack our way through.

“We’re here,” he said.

He raised a finger, and just beyond his fingertip, the world shimmered and shifted.

A seam appeared in the air, sewn with such tiny stitches as to be nearly invisible. Rane drew his finger down, and following his motion, the seam unraveled and a hidden pocket of the world appeared.

The trees slunk apart, bowing their canopies and forming an archway. A path emerged, speckled with tiny stones that caught

the moonlight.

A delicious thrill went down my spine.

Rane whispered into my ear. “Would you like to enter my kingdom?”

“That’s where the job is,” I said.

Grimney stood up on the horse’s back, and I steadied him.

We rode through the seam, and a violent shiver shook me. The air was cooler on this side, and it smelled of recent rain and

crushed mint. The creature noises were stranger; a bird was singing a lament. The moonlight was softer, gentler.

A cold wind ran its fingers down the skin of my arms. A whispering began at the edges of my hearing, growing louder with each

step. An invisible force tugged at me, urging me to turn back.

Dread fell over me like a too-heavy blanket. My stomach roiled.

I gripped at the reins, but I couldn’t dislodge Rane’s hands. “We have to turn back.”

“Saphira?”

Shadows were lurking in the trees, eyes watching from the darkness. The ground beneath us pulsed, the path writhing like a

living entity.

My head throbbed. “We can’t—Something’s wrong.”

He cursed. “The wards have you. They should’ve recognized that you’re with me—”

I wasn’t with him. We were strangers, making a deal. “Stop the horse.”

“Of all the times for the wards to work perfectly—”

The horse wasn’t stopping, it wasn’t even slowing—something was squeezing my heart. I had to go—

My hands scrambled on the reins, and when I couldn’t force the horse around, I swung my leg over and leapt, just as Rane clicked

his teeth and the horse slowed. I was thrown free, crumpling to the ground.

“Saphira!” Rane’s voice blended with the howling of the wind, of the voices—I had to go back—

Acrid, sour bile filled my mouth. The sky was spinning. The air itself seemed to hiss, You are not welcome.

Arms circled me. “Saphira, I’m so very sorry.”

I looked up into Rane’s eyes, those dark eyes that I liked so much, the eyes that were a lie, an illusion, and I looked past

them, to the dark clouds. My skin was hot, my head spun. “I have to go.”

His voice came from far away, frantic. “It’s the enchantments—let me help you.”

I burrowed into his neck. His warmth, his smell took the edge off the wrongness. I was shaking, and I couldn’t stop.

A hand stroked my back. “Do you trust me?”

Trust? Trusting only led to pain. If I had learned one lesson in my life, it was that. My heart was a small thing, bruised

and brittle, and I didn’t know how much more it could weather.

I breathed in his scent, and I wanted to cry. “Yes.”

The warmth left me as he took a step back. A circle of heat remained around my wrist. Softly, he tugged at my hand, and I

gave it to him.

He lowered his slightly parted lips to my wrist, and his breath puffed against my pulse. In the fading pink-gold light, his fangs glinted as he scraped them, ever so gently, across my skin.

Like a prayer, he whispered, “Forgive me.”

He bit down. His fangs sank into the flesh of my wrist. The feeling was so white-hot sharp that I couldn’t even scream. The

stinging pain ran up my arm and cut through my veins. A flood of warmth chased it.

All was sensation. My eyes were open, but I could not see. Colors exploded in my vision, bright and endless, like staring

into the sun. I felt myself rising through my body, higher, higher—

Ecstasy. A reverent stillness beyond myself. It was everything. I was everything.

I trembled there, on the line that divided myself from the rest of the world. My vision was inward; I saw in myself an expanse

so endless, full of possibility, full of desire to see where my art could take me and what I could yet create; and then I

saw lips, they smiled at me crookedly, and was this inside me or outside? The lips parted and shaped words, and how I wanted

them. This was a dream; those lips had come to my dreams before, dreams that disappeared from my mind before sunrise. And

then I saw dark silver eyes, wide and searching, ringed by dark lashes glistening with tiny drops of unshed tears, like diamonds.

I was carried, but I did not look away from those eyes. My hearing returned first, a rushing of blood in my ears. And under

the rushing came words. When I was small, before Galen, I had listened outside theaters, hearing the dialogue of plays and

filling in the action from my own imagination. I wasn’t sure if I was small again, lying on a roof, eyes open to the stars,

listening to a story that was never meant for me.