Page 30 of Embrace the Serpent

The world rocked back and forth, and there was a pressure under my knees, behind my back. My eyes were crusted with salt,

and the world swam into focus. My surroundings—a blur of shadows and muted colors—dipped and rose like I was on a boat, and—oh,

I was being carried.

Strong arms cradled me against a broad chest, the steady rhythm of his steps drawing me from the haze of sleep. My heart quickened,

a flutter of shy uncertainty mingling with a strange sense of safety, of being home.

I shifted slightly in his embrace, angling for a better look. The softest hint of light came through the trees overhead, casting

soft shadows across his face: inhumanly sharp cheekbones, a straight nose, brows of dark silver. His hair spilled across his

chest and pooled in my lap, a river of moonlight.

As if sensing my scrutiny, he glanced down at me, his gaze softening with a hint of a smile. “There you are.” His voice was

a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.

“You’ve changed,” I said, tugging at a lock of his hair.

He wore the guise of the Serpent King, but now, having seen what I thought of as Rane’s secret face, I felt myself comparing the two.

The Serpent King seemed several years older, several times more foreboding, and quite a bit less handsome.

I felt my cheeks warm at that last thought.

“In my kingdom, I must be what they need me to be,” he said.

I dropped my gaze. “Where’s—”

“Your loyal squire?” Rane nodded to my side.

Grimney was riding a very small water horse, clutching my bag of tools, looking very proper and dashing.

“Where did he—how—the horse?”

“I was—ah—distracted and left him behind. He caught up, and I did not dare ask for specifics.”

Grimney saluted me.

“Look,” Rane said. “This is one of my favorite views.”

We cleared the trees, and light fell on him like a dusting of palest gold, and for a moment, as his lips quirked, it was like

I could see through his illusion like a veil, to the man beneath.

“You aren’t looking,” he said.

“Huh?”

“The view,” he said, his eyes dancing. He lifted his gaze, and I followed it.

The first light of dawn poured into a valley surrounded by rising cliffs. A vast lake shimmered in the pink glow of morning,

ripples rising as the wind raked its fingers across it.

A palace rose from the depths, half-submerged. Its walls were a luminous white, aglow with dewdrops that caught the sunlight.

Grand stairs led straight into the water, and waves lapped at the walls and windows.

A town clung to the lake’s edge, pale and gleaming like a cluster of pearls.

Delicate white bridges arched over canals, their reflections merging with their corporeal forms to create an illusion of endless loops and spirals.

Lanterns hung from delicate brackets, their golden light fading in the dawn, casting dancing shadows on streets that gleamed like mother-of-pearl.

A short and frog-like figure yawned as they maneuvered a long pole to put out a streetlamp.

A horn sounded. It came from the direction of a tall white spire—a watchtower.

“We have been spotted,” Rane said. His genuine smile felt out of place on the Serpent King’s face.

“I can walk,” I said, pushing at his chest. He set me on my feet. My legs were unsteady, and there was a white fuzz creeping

along the edges of my thoughts.

“Easy,” he said, taking my arm.

“I’m fine.”

“My venom is potent,” he said with an apologetic air.

His embarrassment embarrassed me. “Is it? I didn’t feel anything.”

He raised a brow. “You swooned into my arms.”

“I needed rest. It’s been a long and trying few days.”

“Oh, I see. You’re doing that peculiar thing, where you pretend you never feel anything.”

“I feel things,” I said.

“But you hide it.”

“You hide your entire face.”

Amusement danced in his eyes. “We understand each other so well.”

It seemed unwise to flaunt Grimney to our audience, as he was a creature born of jewelsmithing.

With only a little convincing, he gifted a seashell to his horse and settled into my pocket.

The horse dissolved into mist as Grimney waved goodbye.

Despite my protests, Rane slung my bag over his shoulder.

The town had come awake, a handful of people gathering to see who the horn heralded. And what fascinating people they were;

a too-thin, too-tall man with glowing eyes; a blue-skinned figure whose clothes swirled like water; a wizened being who came

up to my knee, their white beard nearly as tall as they were.

Rane said, “I feel light as air, to be back home. To tell you the truth, I didn’t think we could pull this mission off.”

“This mission, meaning me.”

“Indeed.”

“You didn’t think I would come?”

“I thought we would be killed.”

A huntsman hurried from the watchtower, arriving at Rane’s side and keeping pace with us. “My lord?”

“We need a healer,” Rane murmured, while smiling at his people. The huntsman disappeared into the crowd.

Rane sucked in a sharp breath. His grip briefly tightened on my arm.

“I’m fine,” he said, before I could ask.

“Remember,” I said, “I can tell when you’re hiding.”

He breathed a laugh as we reached the lake’s shore.

Swans rose from the water, pulling an open-air chariot shaped like a lotus. It swayed under my feet, and Rane slipped an arm

around my waist.

A fine sweat glimmered on his skin. I wrapped my arm around his waist, taking some of his weight. “I’m not helping you,” I said, “as you’re clearly fine. I need help keeping my balance.”

His eyes laughed. “Glad to be of assistance.”

Fish glided past, their movements slow and graceful, while strange plants swayed in the currents, their tendrils long and

sinuous. And then, deeper, sea serpents swam below, their skin glinting like shards of sunlight.

The palace seemed to float on the lake, its foundation blending seamlessly with the water. Turrets and towers reached skyward,

their domes capped with pale blue tiles that shimmered faintly. Ivy of palest green wrapped itself around the walls, its scent

crisp and mingling with the cool morning air. This was what I smelled on Rane, on his cloak.

Balconies jutted out from the palace, supported by columns that arched lightly, like cobras about to strike. The balustrades

were intricate lattices of pale stone, twisted and curled into the shapes of horses, dragons, lotuses. Through the wide, arched

windows, I caught glimpses of ethereal spaces; a terrace where a fountain bubbled, catching the sunlight and gleaming pale

gold; a hall of gold mosaic, and I imagined that dancing there might feel like dancing upon the sun itself; a floating garden

where heavy buds hung indolently, waiting to bloom, upon trees that bowed like courtiers.

The grand entrance was a set of double doors made from wood so ancient that time had polished it as pale and smooth as stone.

Silver handles were shaped like entwined serpents, but before I could touch them, the doors swung open of their own accord.

A grand hall, its ceiling high and vaulted, supported by columns of pale marble. The chandeliers above were brass and sea

glass, their many arms holding candles that flickered with a warm, golden light. The scent I associated with Rane was stronger

here, sun-kissed water, fresh green vines, and something dark and heady, like flowers that bloomed at night.

Inside, the air was filled with the soft murmur of the lake, the sound of water lapping gently against the palace’s outer

walls. A grand staircase curved both up and down, upward to the higher floors suffused with pink morning light, and downward

into the depths of the palace, where I could faintly make out long columns painted in a hazy, rippling blue-green light.

“Do you like it?” Rane whispered.

I didn’t answer. I was too awed.

We took the stairs up, and an attendant met us at the landing. “The healer is waiting in your rooms.”

Rane’s rooms were at the heart of the palace. He coughed as he opened the double doors. “I told them not to touch anything,”

he said apologetically.

Oversized cushions in jewel-toned silks were strewn haphazardly across the floor. A low table of polished teak dominated the

center of the room, littered with an assortment of odds and ends—a half-finished game of chess, a stack of parchment covered

in hastily scrawled notes, and an eclectic array of trinkets and baubles.

At one end of the room, a massive window looked out onto the gardens and the lake beyond, its panes adorned with delicate carvings of lotus blossoms and swirling patterns.

Sunlight streamed through the glass, casting warm pools of light onto the polished stone floor.

A small birdcage hung from the ceiling, and its occupant—a rather sly-looking nightingale—trilled in welcome.

“I told you to go out and see the world.” Rane opened the birdcage. The bird clasped the bars in its beak and shut the door

again.

“My lord? You called for me?” The healer had long, flowing hair and a serpentine look to her features. She had stepped out

of another room, and just visible behind her was the edge of a lavish bed.

I squirmed. These were Rane’s private rooms. A king’s.

He had not felt so much of a king in the Imperial City. There he was an outsider. But here, the way people hung on to his

words, the new set to his shoulders, upright and confident, but also a little burdened—he really was a king .

The healer bowed. “My lord, if you will?” She gestured to the bedroom.

“Not me,” Rane said, drawing me forward. “The wards got her.”

I interrupted. “Your injury is far more serious.”

Rane lowered himself onto a cushion, pasting a lordly expression on his face. “I’ll permit her to look me over as soon as

she’s done with you.”

The healer met my eyes with an amused expression. “I’m really fine,” I whispered to her.

She dutifully looked me over, lingering at the twin marks on my wrist, before telling me to rest and that the wards and the

venom might have lasting effects.