Page 41 of Embrace the Serpent

Ash fell from the sky in soft flakes. One fell onto my palm, and I made a fist, crushing it into a dark smudge.

The palace courtyard had turned gray with it, smeared across the flagstone in streaks from the huntsmen’s hurrying feet. Most

of them had gone to fight, but a few remained to receive the injured and relay reports to and from the watchtower.

One of the watchmen skidded to a stop when she noticed me. “My... lady? Has something happened?”

Her gaze shot to the palace.

“No, everything is fine,” I said. Well, my husband was a heartless snake, and we were at war with an undefeated army, but

I figured she meant the townspeople. The children and those who could not fight were well protected within the palace. When

I left them, Rane’s grandmother was marshaling all the other grandmothers to dump hot oil over the balconies if the Imperial

Army made it across the lake.

I continued, “Could you call up a horse for me?”

She blinked very slowly. “A... horse?”

“I’m going to meet with Lady Incarnadine.”

“My lady, forgive me for asking, but is that wise?”

She was head and shoulders taller than me, and even through the bulk of her armor, it was clear that she was corded with muscle.

She looked so very strong and capable, like she could face anything, and I vowed to myself that if I came back from this, I’d lift heavy things or do whatever you did to look like that.

She probably saw me as having gone a little mad. My face was likely peaky from lack of sleep, and there was a good chance

that more of my hair had escaped my braid than was still in it. I was in a too-fine tunic of green silk that a well-aimed

toothpick could cut through, never mind a sword, and slung across my chest was my bag of tools. I had thought of leaving them

behind, but I felt more myself with them. I was what I was, and the way the huntsman was looking at me, I had a feeling I

was never going to inspire her confidence in me.

I patted her on the shoulder. “It’s all right. I’ll take responsibility for what happens.”

She knelt at the edge of the lake and dipped her fingers in. A water horse rose at once, shaking its mane and splashing droplets

everywhere. Its body was darker than before, as if the debris polluting the lake were affecting it.

The huntsman saddled it up and brought it to me, but there was doubt in her eyes as she helped me up.

The horse trotted to the edge of the courtyard. A tug came at my ankle. Grimney looked up at me. “Whyzzy?”

I explained, “I’m trying out bravery for a change.”

He looked pointedly at my hands shaking on the reins.

“Yes, well, I haven’t got the hang of it yet.”

“Grrzy,” he said, holding his arms up like a child.

I shook my head. “It’s safer for you here.”

He stomped over to the lake and held his little hand over the water, threatening to call a tiny horse for himself if I didn’t take him with me.

I stared him down.

He dipped his fingers in, and almost instantly, as if it was waiting for him, a miniature horse’s head rose from the water.

Grimney raised his brows.

I knew when I was beaten. “Fine.”

He grinned as I scooped him up and set him on the saddle before me.

The water horse took off at my whispered command: Take me to the tents on the ridge. If there was anything worse than riding a horse on land, it was riding a horse on water.

With one hand, I held on to the reins, and with the other, I pulled the tourmaline collar from my pocket and wrapped it around

my neck, hoping that my quick repair job on the clasp would hold. At once, it warmed uncomfortably. I cleared my throat, and

my voice vibrated twofold.

We were fast approaching the lakeshore. The bulk of the fighting was to the east, near to the town, but there were Imperial

soldiers aplenty waiting for us, their spears at the ready.

“Let me pass!” I shouted.

A bewildered look came over them, and they lowered their weapons. We barreled through them, and Grimney pelted pebbles at

their heads.

I touched the collar. It was one thing to have seen Mirandel use it. Another to wear it and feel its power for myself. It finally sank in: I made this. I brought this power into the world.

Also, it hadn’t been soldered together well. That contributed to the vibration, the warmth. If I added a few cooling jewels,

too, it would be perfectly comfortable to wear—but no, I would never again make something without thinking about what it could

do.

I was coming around to the idea that I was every bit as powerful as Rane thought I was. If one is a giant, one must be watchful

where one steps.

An arrow flew past my head. “Let me pass unharmed ,” I shouted again, and the warmth at my throat increased, my sweat pooling in the hollow at the base of my neck.

I paid closer attention. The soldiers within a certain radius—about ten people across—lowered their weapons immediately. But

those outside that radius still pushed through, aiming their spears and arrows at me. It occurred to me that it might have

been smart to don armor before coming out here.

With regular shouting, and Grimney taking over the reins, we made it past the line of Imperial soldiers. For a moment, we

rode unimpeded.

The ground sloped upward, the trees growing thicker, and we came out onto the forest path that Rane and I had taken when we

first entered the kingdom.

As we reached higher ground, the trees on either side grew briefly thin, and to the right, I caught a glimpse of the town.

The giant silver serpent—it was hard to think of the beast as Rane—tore through the main square, slithering across canals

and onto streets, destroying bridges, homes, shops.

People fled from his path. From this distance, they seemed the size of ants. They ran from him, and from the red-gold flames that had sprung up like poppies, scrambling across the rubble of the ruined town.

The carnage turned my stomach.

The horse slowed its gait. Up ahead, on the ridge, the encampment loomed over us.

A whispered, “You will let me pass,” got us past the lone guard on the road, and then we were inside the camp.

We passed rows of simple tents flying five different flags; some were empty, and some were occupied by soldiers eating and

readying themselves. I recognized the Imperial standard, as well as the frog-and-shield flag of the garrison Rane and I had

so briefly entertained. Unlike the soldiers from the city, they were strumming music and playing cards with a strange sort

of intensity, like they were trying very hard not to think of what was to come.

I moved quickly past them, lest they recognize me or, worse, ask for a repeat performance.

Amongst the other garrisons, the atmosphere was subdued. They spoke in whispers, and the wind carried snippets to my ears.

They feared the silver serpent. They had greater numbers, but how many would have to fall before they took the Serpent King

down?

We went deeper into the camp.

Above one of the tents rose a billow of fire. A smith’s tent, open on three sides, for both a blacksmith and army jewelsmith.

A short figure was repairing a sword. He looked up.

It was Galen. I had a strange feeling. He looked so small, so ridiculous. Why had I let him decide so much for me?

He glanced at me, but I turned away.

Others were staring. Servants, pausing in their work to gape at me. The horse, being pale blue-green, was drawing too much

attention.

I dismounted ungracefully and whispered to the horse. “Stay out of trouble. But I may need you again, quite soon.”

It whinnied and pointed its nose at Grimney, as if to say, He can reach me.

The horse became mist, and Grimney and I were alone in the enemy’s camp.

“Come along,” I said to him. On foot, we didn’t stand out too much, considering the number of attendants and maids running

around. The army had not traveled light at all.

The tents grew larger and more ornate as we made our way to the other end of the encampment, which was on a ridge overlooking

the Serpent Kingdom, from the town to the half-submerged palace. The atmosphere here was jubilant. I could almost pretend

I was back in the Imperial City, amongst the tents of those who had come for the Season. These tents, too, bore crests of

noble families, like this was all a party, another way to curry favor with Incarnadine and the Emperor.

I searched the flags that twisted in the wind. Above a large white tent flew the crown and fire insignia of the Rose Palace.

Two guards stood at the entrance. “Let me pass,” I said, and then added, “and run to the other end of camp. Once there, scream

‘fire.’”

Their expressions went vague as they took off at a jog. I didn’t know if the tourmaline’s influence would last across the distance, but at least I’d bought a little time.

I slipped into the tent, with Grimney sticking so close he might as well have been part of my shoe.

The smoky-sweet scent of incense filled my nose, and under it was the coppery tang of blood. Incarnadine reclined on cushions,

a freshly-painted map of the Serpent Kingdom laid out before her. She was injured, a gash on her leg, already bleeding through

the bandages, but there was a small, satisfied smile on her lips.

“Hand me the heartstone,” I said loudly.

Her gaze rose to my face, then fell to the tourmaline collar.

“That will not work on me,” Incarnadine said.

My blood froze. I hadn’t counted on djinn being immune.

“So, little jewelsmith. Are you here to surrender?”

“No. I’m here to retrieve what you stole.”

She laughed. “This heartstone is my only way of controlling the beast.”

I paused. “You think he can be controlled?”

“No? Then perhaps I shall destroy it.”

“That won’t kill him. But it will mean he’ll stay a rampaging beast. He’s killing your soldiers by the dozens.” It was an

exaggeration, but not by much.

She tapped her gold-tipped fingers against her lips. “That is fine. Our soldiers will take him down, eventually. And perhaps

it will be easier to annex this kingdom if they see their king fall.”

My hands were fists. “And then what? Will you ever be satisfied with the amount of blood you’ve spilled?” It was dangerous to speak my mind, but I couldn’t stop. I felt like I’d swallowed a crazed bird that was fluttering, clawing, trying to fight its way out of my throat.

Incarnadine’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, her pupils seemed to flicker with flame. “I will be satisfied, very soon.”

A threat lingered in the air, and then she smiled. “You hate me, but it is because of me that you still live. The Emperor

would have had me kill all the children. How I begged to keep you all, to raise you as my own. You have never thanked me.”

Thank her?

She sighed. “Go back to wherever you were hiding. It won’t be long now. I don’t wish to take a life that I once spared. It

would make me start to believe that I am not the master of my fate.” There was a bitterness to her tone, one that made me

think.

Grimney tugged at my ankle. I planted myself firmly, my feet digging into the plush rug. “I know what you are,” I said. “My

mother told me you were a djinn. And you’ve served the Emperor for a very long time.”

She reared back, like I had spat on her. “Serve? I do not serve .”

Quietly, I said, “What do you call the one who takes orders?”

Heat seemed to build in the air around Incarnadine as she stared me down. “What impudence, for one who knows little.”

“I know that you want to be free.”

“Of course I do,” she snapped. “And I will be free. Once the seventh kingdom falls, I will be free.” Her gaze had turned inward

by the end, as if for a moment she had forgotten I was there.

It was confirmation: she was one of Darvald’s victims, bound to the Emperor. Between one blink and the next, something shifted. Incarnadine seemed suddenly less the towering villain from my memories, made of pure evil, unknowable and formidable, and she became simple, understandable, vulnerable.

I bit my lip. “Will he really let you go? I gave my power to someone, too, and he would never have let me be free. Will he

really stop at seven kingdoms? What about the lands across the sea? Beyond the northern mountains?”

“Enough.” She turned her gaze, dismissing me.

Desperate, I asked, “You would make all the divine peoples share your fate?”

“Why not?” she said. “Who saved me?”

I looked into her eyes and thought, Maybe someone should have.

The tent flap swished open, and then came the whisper of sword being unsheathed. “My lady, what would you like me to do?”

There was something pointy at my throat. A pressure around my neck loosened, the tourmaline collar fell, and I caught it at

my waist. The clasp had been sliced through once again. So much for my repair work.

Lady Incarnadine sighed. “You took your time, Mirandel.”

“My apologies,” Mirandel said. “Two idiots were screaming about a fire. Caused something of a fuss.”

I swallowed, and something scraped the skin of my neck. “Mirandel—”

She let out a piercing shriek, right in my ear, and I jumped. I clutched my neck, thanking the fates that I hadn’t jumped

into her blade.

Mirandel shrieked again. Grimney had latched on to her, biting her calf. She shook her leg. “Stop it! Call it off!”

“Bad Grimney,” I said mildly, putting several feet of distance between me and her blade. “Let her go.”

Grimney paid me no attention.

Incarnadine spoke. “How does he not obey you?”

“Grimney?” I said, surprised. “He does what he wants.”

Incarnadine had a considering look on her face. “You’ve trapped his soul in stone, and yet you do not control him?”

Trapped his soul in stone? I’d done nothing of the sort. Grimney had full control of himself. “Not all jewelsmiths are the

same. I don’t share Darvald’s beliefs. But...” I showed the collar. “I am as talented as he was.”

I let her consider that, until there was an opening in her expression—the slightest pinch of her eyebrows, the faintest glimmer

in her eyes.

“I’ll trade you,” I said. “The heartstone for your freedom.”

She grew still.

“Tell me what Darvald made. How does the Emperor control you?”

A long silence stretched between us, taut, trembling.

She spoke in a whisper. “There is a lamp. My heart is inside. A flame...”

“I need your word,” I said, but I knew I had her. She didn’t trust the Emperor. And once she had her lamp, she would have

no need for the heartstone. But I still wanted to hear her say it.

I held her gaze, even Grimney thumped to the floor, his little footfalls sounding as he scampered away from a panting Mirandel,

and a shadow moved in my peripheral vision, as Mirandel strode toward me, her blade raised.

Incarnadine raised a quelling hand. “If you free me, the heartstone will be yours.”