Page 31 of Embrace the Serpent

She had only just turned her attention to Rane, when came the patter of quick footsteps outside.

A low feminine voice came, growing louder. “Oh, Naina, you’re here—have you heard—you have?—It’s dreadful isn’t it—A bride , can you believe the nerve of him—No, don’t fret, your shawl is fine, dear—Oh, don’t blame me, I did my best—He must get

it from your side of the family—”

Two women barged in. One was like a spear, tall and sharp and frowning, and the other was short and bent and smiling.

I smiled back at the short one. Like a trap snapping shut, her eyes narrowed. “Adamant,” she said. “Introduce us.”

“I’m Saphira, the—”

“My bride,” Rane said, cutting me off before I could say jewelsmith .

“Come, now,” the short one continued, “the rumors cannot be true. My darling little one would never get married in the Imperial

City.”

Rane had a mulish expression. “We did.”

“Oh, dear,” said the tall one mildly, wringing her hands. “Well, when one is in love—”

The short one interrupted, growing weepier with each word. “With none of our customs? None of our people? Do you hate us so?

I told you, Naina, nothing good would come of his curiosity—always wanting to see beyond the border—”

“It wasn’t curiosity,” Rane said.

“What was it, then?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, she went on. “Now he keeps secrets from us. What secret can you keep

from me? What can you not tell your grandmother, why, I was there when you shed your first skin—”

I said, “What?”

Twin spots of pink rose in Rane’s cheeks and melted away quickly, as if he had drawn an illusion over them.

The short one was muttering. “If your brother were here—”

“He isn’t.” Rane said sharply. And then sighing, “Please, Grandmother. The healer says I need rest. I could die if I say another

word.”

The healer stiffened and, at Rane’s look, nodded awkwardly.

The short one toddled over, and Rane bent so she could pat his cheeks. “You need food, is what you need. And what the people

need is to celebrate.”

“Do whatever you want. Plan another wedding, if you must. But leave us be.” He collapsed into a chair, an arm over his eyes.

The short one left grinning, like she’d achieved her means. The tall one hung back. “She wants what’s best for you, as do

I.”

“I know,” Rane grumbled.

She turned to me. “I am Naina, Rane’s mother. Welcome to the family. I am looking forward to getting to know you.”

“Er, thank you,” I said, and bowed. As my nose was pointed at the ground, it occurred to me that bowing was expected of jewelsmiths,

but perhaps not of whatever I was pretending to be.

When I straightened, she was gone.

Rane grumbled at the healer to hurry up. I shared the sentiment. I had a long list of questions for him, once we were alone.

The healer busied herself with the bandage on his chest, murmuring something soothing.

The haze over my thoughts was growing, and I folded myself down onto a divan, watching her work. The lapping of the lake, the distant sound of birdcall, Rane’s low grumbles—I felt something in me unclench, just a little.

The next thing I knew, I was blinking awake. The sun was high, and I was in a vast bed with soft sheets.

This is Rane’s bed.

I jumped out, flinging the sheets aside. I pressed my hands to my cheeks. Why was I so embarrassed all the time?

Low voices came from the main room. I patted my pocket, but it was empty.

Rane—that is, the Serpent King—was surrounded by people. Several of his huntsmen ringed him, and none of them wore helms.

One was speaking, and she fell silent as they all noticed me. I froze, and then, noticing a platter of assorted cakes and

gingered candies, I pretended I had come for them. I stuffed a little poppy seed cake in my mouth and glanced at them through

the curtain of my hair.

Rane gestured for her to continue.

“Vanon’s four are yet to return,” the huntsman said.

“He’ll be fine,” Rane said. “What of the border?”

“There are two outsiders who made it through the border recently. One seemed like an honest accident. We erased his memories

and let him go. The other, we’re not sure. He might be an Imperial scout. We have him imprisoned.”

They attended to a few other bits of business before they filed out.

As the door shut, Rane let out a long exhale. We were suddenly alone.

A singsong chattering came from the birdcage, where Grimney perched, nodding intently at the nightingale. Almost alone, I amended my thoughts.

Rane moved to the balcony. The lake glittered in the afternoon light, the town and its bridges and canals gleaming white.

In the distance were the forest-covered hills we had come through, and in the air above them was a soft line where soft golden

sunshine turned suddenly to a misty gloom. The border wasn’t perfectly straight but curved with the landscape.

I kept my voice quiet. “They said outsiders came through the border. But how?”

He shifted so I could stand beside him. “The enchantments that protect my people are failing. There are cracks in the border.

They disappear and reappear in new places, and of late, more and more are appearing. You remember Barad’s stories—some creatures

have crept through, the selfish ones and the ones that are more beast than being, and I worry that people will soon realize

that the divide between us is not as impenetrable as it was. I must fix this before my people realize the wards are weakening.

That is the reason I brought you here.”

“They don’t know?”

“They must not. When my grandfather raised the wards, he promised all who sought refuge in our kingdom that they would be

safe here. I cannot let his gift fail under my reign.”

“I know nothing of your kind of powers.”

“It is not my kind of powers that protects us, but yours.”

“Jewelsmithing?”

He hushed me and glanced over his shoulder. “Be careful when you speak of it. My people remember the old days, and their fear of jewelsmiths is strong. We must be very careful.”

“That’s why you called me your bride.”

“Surely you don’t object to pretending, just a little longer?”

The teasing in his eyes, the warmth of his body, it muddled my mind. “We’ll pretend only when we have to.” It sometimes felt

like we were pretending when we didn’t need to. And that was making it harder to keep track of what was real.

He shifted, putting a little distance between us. “As you wish.”

I wished that little distance didn’t make something in me twinge. “I’d like to get to work.”

A knock came at the door.

“Tonight,” Rane said. “When the palace is asleep.”

As night fell, the palace came alive. Boats hung with glowing lanterns crossed the lake, and the lights mingled with the reflection

of the starry sky.

The curtains were drawn back, and Rane joined me out on the balcony. He was dressed in flowing robes of palest silver that

matched his Serpent King illusion.

I was in the same color, in a dress that fell from my shoulders and wrapped around my waist. In place of jewels, my arms were

covered in delicate patterns in deep red. A dozen people had arrived to help me dress and prepare, and one had brought a paste

of ground leaves, applied to my skin in careful lines. Once dry, the paste had been rubbed away with a sweet-smelling oil,

leaving the pattern inked into my skin.

She’d asked me if I wanted her to hide Rane’s name within the design, for him to find. I’d imagined Rane bent over my arms, scanning each inch of my skin, and had promptly broken out in sweat. She’d laughed at my expression and never brought it up again.

“Your grandmother works fast,” I said.

“It’s only the first night. Our weddings are long affairs.”

“And when I finish the job—”

“I won’t hold you here against your will.”

“Won’t they be angry with you?”

“It’s for their best interests, too. They’ll come around, in time.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. It wasn’t for me to tell him what to do. But it felt like, in being what he thought they needed

from him, he wasn’t giving them a chance to truly support him.

We descended to the gardens, and in the dark of the archway, he took my hand. The calluses and warmth of his hand were becoming

familiar to me, and that familiarity alarmed me. The way my fingers slotted perfectly in between his, the way his thumb traced

over mine. My insides buzzed like I had swallowed a thousand bees.

It was all just pretend, I reminded myself.

I took a deep breath, and we stepped together through the arch. We were at once greeted by the sounds of merriment, with laughter

and the low hum of conversation. The gardens seemed to float upon the lake, lush islands connected by delicate bridges, the

largest of which held a pavilion designed so cleverly that it seemed to grow from the flowering bushes. Twinkling lights floated

upon the lake and hung from the trees, casting a dreamy glow that made the partygoers seem unreal.

A hush fell as we entered, and the weight of their gazes fell like an anvil. Rane inclined his head but said nothing, and the conversations resumed, though I felt their attention still.

Rane touched my elbow. He moved to a small table of refreshments at the water’s edge, and my gaze fell to the lake. On a lotus

pad, a circle of small people were drinking out of upturned flowers. Some were slender, with wings of gossamer, and others

were squat. They were peris. My tiny tablecloth was precisely their size.

A goblet was pressed into my hands, textured with carvings. I peered inside. “It’s empty,” I said, wondering if it were some

sort of enchanted drink, if I was unworthy of seeing it.

“Yes,” Rane said. “Watch.”

He poured wine into it, and the goblet was carved so finely, that the wine painted the thinnest parts dark with shadows, and

a design revealed itself. It was an image of intertwined serpents, and as I turned the goblet, the same image repeated but

the serpents transformed into a man and a woman mid-embrace. I glanced at Rane, and my face heated. I raised it to my lips

and drank.