Page 33 of Embrace the Serpent

My mother and I... We were everything to each other, and we were strangers. Like a game, we volleyed the words Do you remember? back and forth, and each time I answered yes. They were only half lies—I wanted to remember, and I was sure somewhere deep

in me, the memories existed.

I didn’t know how to share myself with her. The girl she remembered, the one who climbed trees and played mischief on the

cook, was like a fairy tale. She was adventurous and brave. And I? I was something else.

She offered for me to come and stay with her in town. But it was a formality. She thought I was Rane’s bride, and I didn’t

correct her.

She kissed my cheek before she left.

I watched her go and then sat alone until my legs protested from the hardness of the stone bench.

The party was over when I trudged back, attendants pointing the way.

I found Rane in his rooms, wearing his dark-haired illusion. He was resting on the divan, his robes loose at his throat, hand

pressed lightly into the skin over his wound.

His eyelids rose as I stepped closer.

My voice came in a whisper. “How did you know?” I hadn’t said I was from Marehold. I hadn’t told him who I was, who my mother was.

His voice was scratchy with sleep. “It went well?”

“Tell me how you knew.”

He raised three fingers. “One, you asked the water horse to take us home . It didn’t take us to my home, so it follows that perhaps, it took us to yours. Two, you were an Imperial Ward, which made

it likely that you had come from a family noble enough or important enough for the Emperor and Incarnadine to take you as

one of their pawns.”

“And three?”

“And I saw the look in your eyes, there in Marehold.”

“The look in my eyes?”

“Your eyes tell me quite a lot.”

I dropped my gaze, alarmed.

His clothes rustled as he stood. “It’s all right. I can keep a secret.” He moved closer and exhaled softly. “You are pleased,

aren’t you? Or are you angry with me?”

“Angry? No. The opposite.”

“What is the opposite?”

He was so close I could count each of his dark lashes. He had added a tiny little beauty spot under one eye, or perhaps it

was always there.

His gaze fell to my lips.

I was so aware of my mouth, of the wind on my lips, and the dryness that bound them together.

I licked my lips, and he drew in a ragged breath.

“Saphira,” he said. “Tell me that I’m not alone in feeling this.”

Heat washed over me from my head to my toes, and I felt too alive, too visible. I whispered, “What do my eyes say?”

His breathed a laugh that diffused across the skin of my jaw. The light pressure of his fingers as they ran through my hair,

cradled the nape of my neck. I tilted my head up; my body arched toward him.

The air between us warmed, and my skin came awake. Something was happening, and I was afraid to admit it, afraid to close

the gap between us. And yet I yearned for him to come closer, to give me what I dared not take.

An entire world of promise fit in the gap between us. I held my breath as his gaze fell to my lips.

A tap came at the door.

The promise held for a moment, as real as a thread of silk, and as fragile. We drew apart, and it snapped. He shook himself,

and I let out a slow breath, rubbing my arms, trying to contain all that had bloomed in me.

“Oh stars,” Rane cursed. He pulled on an illusion between one heartbeat and the next, growing taller, his shoulders broadening

and arms thickening with muscle. Silvery scales shone on his neck and his features lost their softness and lanky charm, gaining

sharpness and the subtle lines of someone a decade older. All traces of his injury disappeared. “Enter.”

A huntsman came in, and his eyes darted to me. Apologetically, he said, “The update you requested on Vanon and his four, my lord. We think he may have detoured to the east to avoid Imperial Guards. They may be a day or two behind.”

“Fine,” Rane said. “Give me another update in the morning.”

The huntsman bowed. “My lord, my lady.” He retreated as quickly as he came.

We were alone again, save for Grimney and the nightingale, who were both asleep. Something had softened between us, a veil

had fallen. But there were things I could say to Rane that I was too shy to say to the Serpent King.

He noticed something in me, because he said, “What is it?”

“The palace is asleep, isn’t it?”

“As asleep as it gets. Shall I show you its secrets?”

We took the back stairs down and ended up near the kitchens. Rane pressed a finger to his lips and cast an illusion on me.

As it trickled down my spine, my vision blurred. I blinked hard.

The hallway seemed larger than before. And before me, where Rane had been, stood a short figure in the neat robes of the palace

attendants. His face was that of a toad’s.

I felt my cheeks. Smooth, cool, a little wet.

“Charming,” Rane croaked.

I laughed.

We crept past a large archway. Inside, a cook was sitting at a large table, his head in his hands.

A kitchen maid was organizing stacks of dry goods.

“What about ginger?” the cook was saying.

“About a dozen fresh roots and five bottles of powder.”

The cook clicked his teeth. “We’re low on pearl milk, spiny fish, plum wine, no mulberries at all—how am I supposed to put on a wedding?”

He wailed, and the maid patted him on the back.

A three-fingered hand grabbed mine and tugged me away.

Even as a toad, the way his eyes crinkled with laughter was so distinctly Rane.

We moved down hallways, toward the main hall.

Rane shimmered and grew, and he became tall, thin, birdlike. My vision blurred, and the world had shifted, shrunk in some

way. I met Rane’s gaze, and I now came up to his nose. I was taller. Rane’s hair had become dark feathers that seemed to defy

gravity, like bird’s crest.

A boy was coming in from the gardens, flowers clutched in his hands, muttering, “Jaster, I know you probably have plans already,

but in case you don’t, maybe you and I can go to the wedding together? If you want. Or not.” He moaned.

“What’s that?” Rane said.

The boy shrieked in surprise, whirling around.

“You’re not asking Jaster like that, are you?”

“W-well—”

I touched Rane’s arm. The boy looked terrified. Rane said, “My dear, shouldn’t he speak from the heart?”

“Er, yes,” I said, and felt my illusion flicker. Rane recast it instantly, and I wondered how fast he could cast them. The

boy’s attention turned to me, hope shining in his eyes. I said, “Say what you feel.”

The boy swallowed. “When Jaster looks at me, I get sweaty, and I think I’m going to die.”

Rane made a soft choked noise.

“That’s lovely,” I said, and I meant it. “That’s how I feel, too.” Rane recast the illusion immediately.

The boy beamed at me. “You think it’ll work? It is the truth. You’re right. My thanks to you both,” he said, bowing so suddenly that the flowers in his grip shed a few petals.

“Wait—” Rane called, but the boy was gone. He sighed. “I was thinking something more along the lines of I find you lovely or when I look in your eyes, I feel like I’m home, and sometimes I get that feeling whenever I see anything that same deep warm

brown .”

“Perhaps Jaster’s eyes aren’t brown,” I said, and this time, my illusion fell and stayed gone.

Rane laced our fingers together. “Yours are.”

I ducked my head.

“Tell me,” he said. “Do I make you sweaty and feel like you’re going to die?”

I covered my face.

His laughter rose delighted and bright, and it wrapped around me, a soft, bubbly warmth sinking into my skin.

I felt strangely raw. The night had torn too many emotions out of me.

For some reason, I heard Galen’s voice. Everything comes at a price, and the cost is set by what people want from you. Love? What of it? Love is the fanciful idea

of getting something for no price at all, and tell me, have you ever seen that happen? No, love is another word for being cheated out of what you’re owed, and if you ever feel it, know you’re being played.

It didn’t feel like that, like I was being hoodwinked. It made me think... what if I stopped running? Could I really have this? Could this happiness be mine?

As we reached the deserted main hall, Rane let himself look like the Rane I first knew, his illusion melting into dark hair,

dark eyes, a slender face.

A soft blue-green glow played on the walls, emanating from below. The grand stairs curved down into the greenish depths. The

banister was cool to the touch.

We descended together. Water lapped at the tall windows, but the lower we went, the quieter it became. A heavy, thick silence.

Part of the greenish glow came from lanterns that lit the way. The other part came from the creatures outside, swimming past

the windows, spots of glowing light dotting their bodies.

The stairs ended in an underwater hall, lined with tall columns and windows.

There were dozens of doors facing the windows. Rane went to one that seemed identical to the others, from the pale white surface

to the intricate trim and the large golden lock.

He drew a cord from around his neck. At its end was a key.

Rane unlocked the door.

There were more stairs beyond. Lower and lower we went, until we reached a pool so still that it could’ve been a mirror. Across

its surface were lotuses.

I saw myself reflected in the water. Rane stepped up behind me.

I asked, “Is there any limit to what you can make me look like?”

“What would you like to be?”

My hair turned straight, then it lightened. Brown, pale brown, wheat, like fire, silver like moonlight. His illusion shifted

to match.

“Can you make it so I can tell the truth?”

“Yes. The problem with tying an illusion to a person is that. But if I tether it to, say, a locket, or a jacket, then it’s

far steadier.”

“Is that how it works for you?”

“Not exactly. I’m constantly feeding the illusion with my power.”

He changed himself into me, and me into the Serpent King.

“Oh,” I said, moving my hand and watching the reflected Serpent King move his. “I see why you like this. I’m so large. I do

feel rather strong and intimidating.”