Page 36 of Embrace the Serpent

mean redoing Darvald’s work entirely, which was a massive undertaking. A lifetime of scrambling to deliver on Galen’s promises

had made me a quick jewelsmith, but even for me, it would take at least a year.

I sat with the tired jewel. Its presence was comforting, as if it were thanking me for trying. It felt like I was sitting

with someone.

I didn’t know if the jewel could hold on for a year. But I wouldn’t give Rane up. So it had to.

Footsteps shook me out of it. Rane approached, Grimney riding on his shoulder. “My spy tells me that you haven’t eaten.”

Guiltily, I recalled the small satchel of snacks Rane had given me. It sat in my bag, forgotten. “I’ll eat now,” I said.

“Yes, you will. Your mother is waiting.”

Rane chatted as we climbed, pulling on his Serpent King illusion. His day had consisted of kingly duties, most of which would’ve

bored me to tears, but which he seemed to delight in. He laughed as he recounted how he settled a dispute between two fishermen

who had both cast lines into the same massive eel and who both claimed it as their catch.

“Anyway,” he said, “we’re now serving eel at our wedding.”

I found myself smiling with him, even as his words registered. “Isn’t that sort of... eating your own kind?”

“I am not an eel,” Rane said, offended. “And eels are not snakes. They are fish, admittedly ones with excellent style.”

I hid my smile. “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s entirely different,” he muttered. “You would hate being married to an eel.”

“I’d get used to it.” A giggle escaped me, and it was a sound I’d never made before.

He stepped closer and took my hand. He didn’t speak, just stood with me in the quiet, his thumb brushing soothing circles

on my palm. I knew what he wanted to ask.

My voice was quiet. “I wanted to wait until I was sure, but I think I might have found a way. I need time and jewels. A lot of jewels. And—”

I broke off as he picked me up and swung me into the air. Laughter spilled out of me.

He spun me and then drew me to him, setting me down.

His forehead rested against mine, his breath mingling with mine in the cool air. “Your eel of a husband thanks you.”

I leaned into him, and his breath hitched.

We made our way to the gardens, where the air was rich with the scents of spices. The sky was the vivid red-orange of sunset,

and the lake’s surface glimmered, reflecting it, casting everything in a soft red-gold haze.

One of the slender bridges took us to an island strewn with jasmines, where our dinner awaited.

The table was set under a canopy of intertwined vines and flowers, their petals softly glowing in the lantern light. Platters

of food were spread across the table, aromatic saffron rice studded with cashews, spiced chickpeas, roasted eggplant with

perfectly charred edges, yogurt with pomegranate seeds, flaky breads, a dozen other things, vibrant and steaming. Candles

flickered amongst the platters, and the soft, sweet aroma of beeswax mingled pleasantly with the scent of food.

A rug was on the grass, and around the table were low chairs and dozens of plump cushions.

My mother’s head was bent toward Rane’s mother’s, and they were chatting animatedly. Rane’s grandmother was snoozing in her

seat.

Rane inclined his head. “My apologies for keeping you waiting.”

His grandmother woke with a start. “Finally!”

My mother’s face lit up as she saw me. I moved to sit beside her, drinking in the lines of her face, the scar, the way her

smile came slow, as if it needed time to blossom.

The conversation picked up, and I answered where I needed to. Rane’s grandmother gave us the details for the wedding—for flowers,

she’d chosen osmanthus and marigold for the aroma, and for the menu, every cuisine had to be represented to suit every sort

of divine person, and she’d heard that I enjoyed eel, and if there was any other addition to the menu, she would prefer to

be told sooner rather than later, and because of my complexion, she had decided on red silk for my dress, and if I had opinions,

I had better voice them—I nodded along. My mother made tiny little suggestions of customs that were apparently our family’s,

and Rane’s grandmother seemed surprisingly enthused to have input.

They slowly cut me out of the conversation, and I relaxed.

I reached for a pistachio cake and met Rane’s eye. There was a glint of mischief there, a nameless humor. He raised a brow.

Should we run away and let them get married?

Sure. I smiled back at him. Grimney sat at his elbow, eating from a delicate bowl filled with stones.

As the sky darkened, I found my muscles loosening, the tension seeping out of me. I leaned back, tilting my head and letting

the colors and sounds of the garden wash over me. All of this was mine to protect.

Grimney was juggling, amusing our mothers. He caught a stone in his mouth and chomped down.

Rane had come to sit by me, and I rested my head on his shoulder, paying little attention to anything except for the deep vibrations in his chest when he spoke. My belly was full, and I was content to daydream.

Until a scream tore through the air. My calm shattered, and I jumped to my feet.

Rane had also risen, his arm splayed as if he would put me behind him.

“Stay here,” he said, and his stance changed. The sound had come from across the bridge, from the courtyard, and Rane moved

like a warrior toward it.

He took two steps and stopped.

A woman in white armor came over the bridge.

My mother’s hand gripped mine, and for a moment I was once again a child about to lose everything to Incarnadine.

But it wasn’t Incarnadine. Her hair was dark silk, and there was a glint of yellow at her throat. At her side was a bronze-haired

man, clad in the scale-like armor of the Serpent King’s huntsmen, though his was splattered with what looked like dried blood.

The courtyard behind them was full of huntsmen splayed on the ground. They had gone through them to get to us. Please let them not be dead.

She showed no shame, no remorse. Who else but Mirandel had the kind of pride that made her assume that she was welcome at

every party?

My mouth was dry, my hands were sweating, and I wished it were the other way around.

“Vanon?” Rane said. His gaze was on the huntsman at Mirandel’s side. Vanon, the missing huntsman, the one who played the Serpent King. His gaze was blank, unseeing.

Vanon blinked, brows knitting, and he seemed to surface from some sunken space within him. “My lord? My lord—you mustn’t listen

to h—”

“Heel, Vanon,” Mirandel said.

At her command, the cloudiness returned to Vanon’s gaze.

She tossed her hair back, drawing attention to the yellow tourmaline choker on her neck.

I had done this. I’d made the collar without thinking about what it would mean, what it would lead to. The divine peoples

were right to fear jewelsmithing.

“Release him,” Rane said.

“Why would I do that? He has been quite useful. It’s quite astonishing how deeply your people trust your huntsmen. They were

all so accommodating . Vanon, pull out my seat.”

He pulled out one of the low chairs at the head of the table, and Mirandel sat, crossing her legs.

She murmured something I didn’t catch, and Vanon knelt at her side, directly on the rug.

She filled her plate and ate slowly. “Come, Aria, sit with me.”

My body moved, and I was suddenly sitting beside her, on a plump cushion that put me lower than her. I still had freedom to

move my hands and wipe my palms on my dress. But she could take away that freedom any moment.

I thought quickly. The jewel made it a compulsion to obey the wearer’s commands. But to be influenced, you still had to hear the command.

Beeswax candles flickered on the table. The wax.

When her gaze shifted to Rane, I grabbed a candle, pinched the flame out, and poured the wax onto a napkin in my hand. It

was hot, even to my well-callused fingers, but in a second, I had four little ear plugs.

I met Rane’s gaze, and he understood. He moved to me, speaking with her all the while, and laid his hands on my shoulders.

I reached up and slipped him two lumps, under the guise of holding his hands.

Rane took them, even as he asked, “What is your purpose here?”

“To conquer.” Mirandel smiled. “We have secured the ways into your kingdom. My lady’s soldiers are inside your borders, and

every second that passes, more enter.”

My heart dropped. I twisted, seeking Rane, and saw the same horror in his eyes.

Soldiers inside the borders? But how?

But it was too dangerous to keep listening to her. I pressed the wax into my ears. All sound disappeared, save for the blood

rushing in my head.

Mirandel’s mouth moved. She stared at me.

Rane stuffed the wax in his ears. He moved like lightning, holding a carving knife to her throat.

Mirandel laughed. She raised an arm, her lips moving, and pointed to Vanon.

That same cloudiness was in Vanon’s eyes as he held a dagger to his own throat. A thin red line dripped down his neck. Rane

was a tense coil, fists at his sides. She had him.

I leapt over the table and shoved a napkin in her mouth, and momentum carried us both to the ground. I reached for the tourmaline collar, and my fingers brushed the clasp—

Mirandel bucked under me, tossing me to the ground and pinning me under her. Her eyes were wild, and her lips pulled back

in a snarl. She reached for the wax, her fingers jabbing my ear, and I thrashed, trying to throw her off.

The collar fell from her neck, landing on my chest. I grabbed it as Mirandel was pulled off of me. Rane gripped the back of

her neck, and she fought him.

But she no longer had the collar. I ran my fingers along the two sharp edges where Rane had sliced cleanly through the clasp.

She met my gaze, and the fight went out of her.

I pulled the wax from one ear.

Mirandel hissed at me and Rane both. “You can kill me. That will not stop Lady Incarnadine. Oh, I can see what you’re thinking.

She won’t care if you take me hostage. She is not burdened by sentimentality. But she will take it as a declaration of war.

She will come, and she will raze you. Or, you can surrender and spare us all the river of blood. It’s your choice. She expects

an answer no later than dawn.”