Page 45 of Embrace the Serpent

from the garden, braiding their stems into as elaborate a pattern as my seven-year-old hands could manage. It had once been

a bracelet, but at some point in time, it had snapped. I knew Mirandel had stolen it, but I had never imagined that she would’ve

kept it. I tucked it safely away.

Only then did I notice that Grimney had disappeared. Before I could think on it, Rane’s mother put a hand on my shoulder. “One last thing.”

She braided my hair with enchanted flowers that would never wilt. Her hands moved deliberately, careful not to tug. We had

yet to speak properly—if I was a woman of few words, she was a woman of fewer. We had spent some time in amiable silence;

at least, I hoped it was. From her end, it might’ve been horrified silence.

From a box at her feet, she drew out a veil of gossamer silk, beautifully embroidered. “I began this when Rane was born. Each

year, as Rane grew, I added to it. I made a wish on each stitch, hoping he would choose someone who suited him, who loved

him, who would make him stronger and happier.”

She pinned the veil to my hair and pressed a kiss to my temple. “A mother hopes for the best for her child. If I searched

every corner of this world, I would not find another like you.”

My eyes watered again. I sniffled all the way down to the floating gardens, across the bridge. Every surface was strewn with

twinkling lights, and the bushes and trees had been coaxed into a full bloom. The anticipation grew under my skin, and only

my mother’s hand at my elbow kept me from rushing ahead.

On either side of the path stood divine peoples. They bowed to me as I passed. One raised a hand to touch the jeweled amulet

that hung over his heart, and I smiled. I had spent the last three months crafting amulets like the one I made for Rane’s

grandmother. They were based on what I’d learned from Incarnadine’s lamp. Each was special, tailored to shield the wearer’s

heart, so only they could control it.

I was possibly the only jewelsmith that lost money on every piece.

Rane’s treasury had paid to procure the jewels and everything else I needed.

I could almost hear Galen calling me an idiot for giving the amulets away freely, but I just couldn’t take the divine people’s coin, not when I was only righting a wrong.

Maybe it did make me an idiot, but I could live with that.

My mother’s grip loosened on my elbow as we crossed the last bridge to the floating island at the heart of the gardens. My

heart began to thud and my stomach filled with butterflies as I caught sight of the tip of the pavilion, as it all came into

view.

There he was.

Looking down and toying with his sleeve, his silver hair half braided in a regal circlet, his clothes gleaming and probably

beautiful, but at that moment, he looked up, and a delighted smile split his face, and nothing else mattered.

It was like the sun had come out. Of all the faces he showed to the world, this was the one I loved most. Charming, a little

boyish, his smile a little crooked. His true face.

A laugh bubbled out of me, and I ran into his arms, forgetting our audience and everything proper. He caught me and held me

close, and everything was warmth and the scent of ivy and sun-kissed water.

“I missed you too,” he murmured into my hair.

“It was only a week,” I said to the embroidery at his chest. “It would’ve been silly to miss you.”

A low chuckle. “It’s all right. I won’t tell.”

He took my hands in his, and I put enough space between us for the ceremony to begin.

I couldn’t pay attention to the rituals; it felt like the floaty, heady warmth in me would carry me away into the sky.

Rane’s thumbs caressed my hands, and I noticed the faint trace of ink on his fingers.

It wasn’t just from the notes he had written to me.

He had spent the last three months composing messages to the old families and the new, inviting them to the Serpent Kingdom, and forging relationships.

Our borders were open and would remain so, and his heart would stay in his chest, where it belonged.

From the stacks of letters he had received in return, his charm seemed to be working, turning strangers into allies. But anything

could grow from the ashes of the Empire, and just in case, I had started work on a different sort of border enchantment. Darvald

had only scratched the surface of what jewelsmithing could do. Of what I could do.

I squeezed Rane’s ink-stained hand, and his eyes crinkled as he squeezed back.

Our hands were tied together by a length of silk—a tradition from my home. My mother had filled me up with stories of her

wedding and her mother’s before her, all the way back as far as she knew. And then we spoke vows over sacred water in the

traditions of the Serpent Kingdom.

There was a pause, and the sound of little rock feet came from down the path. Grimney strode toward us, his chest puffed out,

clad in a smartly tailored little jacket and trousers. On a little silken pillow, he held our rings.

“Don’t laugh,” Rane said. “I did warn you.”

I stifled my giggle. “Warn me?”

“Did you not get my note?”

That was what he wanted to tell me? But it wouldn’t have mattered. Grimney looked too adorable, and I couldn’t get rid of my smile as he approached. I knelt and kissed his little rocky cheek. “Thank you. You look very dashing.”

Grimney grinned and held out the pillow. Though I’d made both rings, seeing them now was seeing them anew. On mine, a faceted

sapphire was cut like a window, to reveal a fragment of Rane’s scale beneath. Rane’s was made with the stone from my mother’s

ring, but I’d filled in the crack with gold and small sapphires, and it looked a little like a serpent’s eye. The sapphires

were the same, and our rings would let us find our way to each other.

Rane knelt on Grimney’s other side and took my ring from the pillow. Grimney patted his own cheek, and Rane obligingly kissed

him.

I took the other ring. Together, Rane and I rose. The world went soft and silent, and before everyone, he slid a ring on my

finger, and I did the same to him.

I drank in the sight of him.

Our first wedding had been one of necessity, born of fear.

Our second had been desperate, not a celebration but a funeral for what we could have been.

And this, our third, before all his people and all of mine, felt like we were tying together the long, winding paths of our

lives. Our next steps would not be alone—we would never again be alone.

“It’s rude to refuse a wedding gift,” Rane murmured in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. His hand drew patterns on my back as we smiled at the next couple who came to present their gifts.

The line behind them was long; it seemed everyone was determined to give us a gift before dancing or partaking in food and

drink.

I had already received delicately embroidered shoes that would let me dance all night (but could do nothing for the quality

of my dancing). Tools that would never dull. A whistle that would let me call an eagle (what I would do once the eagle had

come, I didn’t know). A set of riddles to trick a dragon. A box that I must never open, but if I ever needed aid, I was to

bury it on a moonless night. A lily pad large enough to sit on, that would transport me on water (and unlike a horse, it couldn’t

bite me). Each was more wondrous than the last.

“Why are so many of them for me?” I asked Rane.

One of the eagle folk overheard. He was huge and regal, crested in a plume of feathers the color of morning sunlight. “You

have given us freedom,” he said, gesturing at his amulet, “and asked nothing in return. A gift so great as what you have given

us cannot be repaid, but allow us to present you with these paltry tokens of our gratitude.”

Paltry tokens? Even the Emperor hadn’t possessed such riches. It was more than I would’ve made in a lifetime of jewelsmithing,

even if I had been paid five times as handsomely as Galen.

I ducked my head, embarrassed and overwhelmed, and Rane kissed my temple and whispered, “Shall we make our escape?”

I nodded.

“Thank you all,” he said to the crowd. “Please, drink, eat, make merry. But I’m afraid I must steal away my wife....”

Rane led me across a bridge, and my shoulders relaxed once we had left the party behind. I shot him a grateful look, and he winked. We stopped before the palace steps, the lapping waves almost drowning out the distant sounds of revelry.

“They’re too kind,” I said.

“I think, perhaps, they see you clearly. As I do.” He pulled out a sheaf of papers from inside his jacket and held them out

to me. “I may not be a perfect husband, but you should know that I’ll always keep my promises to you.”

I unfolded the papers. The first was a drawing of a tall three-story building surrounded by a low wall. It looked familiar,

but I couldn’t place it. The next was similar, but with several more diamond-paned windows and a chimney belching smoke.

And the third, was Galen’s old workshop. My old workshop, with the circular window at the top.

“All three are available. Say the word, and it’ll be yours.”

My breath caught. I’d forgotten our bargain, but he’d remembered. I was so different from the old Saphira who’d made the deal.

Her world had been so very small that the best she could imagine was a way to keep jewelsmithing without all of the bad things

that had come with it.

I folded up the papers. My world was so much larger now. “I don’t want a shop on Gem Lane.”

A bright, surprised smile flickered on his face, but was quickly replaced with an intent look. “Are you sure? It was your

dream.”

“I’d rather keep working in the palace.” I had moved out of the submerged cavern and into an unused bedroom. The little desk

had worked well enough for the amulets. “I don’t mind.”

A grin blossomed across his lips as if he’d heard my thoughts, and then a touch of mischief entered his eyes.

“Well, if you’re sure.” He patted his jacket, and something rustled.

“Oh, I forgot. There’s one last option.” Rane pulled out one last drawing and held it up.

It was of a workshop I had never seen, with flowers spilling down the side and softly rounded curves. A lake glimmered behind it.

He lowered the drawing, and across the lake, at one edge of the mostly rebuilt town, there it was. A little, perfect shop

at the edge of the water. A streetlamp cast light on the gleaming glass windows, and there was a sign that hung over the door,

too small to make out, but I imagined what it could say: Saphira’s Jewelsmithery.

The sunset light glimmered softly in Rane’s eyes. He hadn’t shown me this little perfect shop until he was sure that I wasn’t

giving up a dream for him. But he didn’t realize that knowing him had made me into something greater than I had ever dreamed.

I wanted to grow with him, for him to grow with me. I wanted to make jewels by his side. I wanted to see how loving him would

continue to change me.

I stood on my tiptoes, my lips close to his, and whispered, “I have a new dream.”

He said, “Let’s make it come true.”

Our breaths mingled, and it became a promise.