Page 5 of Embrace the Serpent

The prim courier bowed, clicked his heels, and announced, “Master Galen. Your presence is humbly requested at the Rose Palace,

tonight at sundown. Mirandel of the Rose wishes to commission a piece at once.”

Galen took the offered invitation with breezy calm. “Oh yes, wonderful. I was expecting this.” He dropped a coin in the courier’s

hand, who made it vanish with the style of a true high-class servant.

I shut the door. Through the frosted glass, the courier stepped up onto a slim one-person city carriage emblazoned with the

crest of the Rose Palace.

Galen whooped. He latched on to my elbows and spun us around. “We’ve done it, Saphira! The Rose Palace! Do you know what this

means?”

The showroom whooshed by, and my stomach tried to go with it. “Er.” I thought about it. Lady Incarnadine had access to the

treasury, and all great jewels went first to her. “We can work with rarer jewels?”

“Rarer—what?” He stopped spinning. “No. This is it. The crack in Master Vyalis’s dominion. Mirandel isn’t just one of the Chosen—she’s Lady Incarnadine’s favorite. The rest will follow suit in due time, I’m sure of it. Finally!”

“Um,” I said. “Yay.” Galen’s ambitions were like a vague stench on the breeze; unpleasant but easy enough to ignore if one

shut the windows.

Galen paced. “I’ll wear my blue suit—no, no, the violet. Saphira, you’ll wear the livery.”

Until that second, I hadn’t realized I would be going too. “I don’t—I’m not invited.” Unease built in my stomach. The pale

pink stone walls of the Rose Palace... the great iron doors... my nose thick with incense smoke, salt water on my lips—

“But you are,” he said. “Right here.” He pointed to a line in sharp script, which read

Do bring an attendant or two, Master Galen. Master Vyalis typically brings his three favorite apprentices.

—M.

“Why is she helping you?”

Galen chuckled. “Because she recognizes our worth. Don’t be such a cynic.”

“Must I go?”

“What, would you have me bring Grimney?”

Why not? “I have his old livery somewhere—”

“Stop. You can’t be serious. He’s unfashionable , Saphira. Why does it seem that you are intent on casting a pall of gloom over our moment of victory?”

I met his huffing, frustrated gaze. There were things Galen didn’t know about me. My past as an Imperial Ward was one. If he knew, he would, by law, have to turn me back to Lady Incarnadine. A dozen times I’d tried to confide in him over the years, but the words always stuck in my mouth.

He softened at my silence. “If we mess this up, we lose our reputation. If we lose our reputation, we could lose the shop.

Do you want that?”

I cut my gaze. “No.”

“Then cheer up, eh? This is a good thing. This is the grandest day of our lives!”

“Yes, Galen.”

“Good girl. Be ready an hour before dusk.” He whistled to himself as he climbed the stairs, and then I was alone in the store.

I hadn’t forgotten Mirandel, nor her hawk eyes. Though she was the first of Lady Incarnadine’s Chosen to commission us, I

had made pieces for other wards, the unchosen ones who had been sent to other branches of the Empire. Just a few months ago,

I’d made a pregnancy-preventing waist chain for a courtesan. As children, we’d sat next to each other for an entire week in

the transport wagon. I’d shared mealy bread with her.

She hadn’t given me a second look, even as I’d wrapped a measuring tape around her waist.

One of the first lessons I’d learned about being invisible is that when someone is hungry and focused on a goal, they’re blind

to everything else. Mirandel was the prize of this year’s crop of Chosen, but it was clear she had in mind a prize of her

own.

My mouth was sour. She wouldn’t notice me. She wouldn’t. But just in case, I would have to make myself even more invisible.

For that, I had an idea.

Our usual precious-metals supplier was located in the Merchant District, and though he usually made monthly deliveries right to the workshop in an armored carriage, I’d gone to him a handful of times when supplies had run unexpectedly low. For my plan, I needed more gold and orichalcum than we had.

A glance out my window revealed the only problem. The main street was packed with people watching the processions of the last

nobles to arrive for the Season. The Merchant District was on the other side of the city, and I’d have to cross through the

crowds.

The thought of it made my stomach turn. I hated crowds, and I didn’t understand them. If people insisted on gathering en masse,

why couldn’t they neatly organize themselves an arm’s length from each other?

I steeled myself. I’d just have to be quick.

Galen was trying on various jackets when I snuck past his floor, with Grimney giving a confused but happy thumbs-up to each

and every option.

I left on foot, dressed in a simple gray top and trousers. Our workshop guards were playing a game of dice; they didn’t bother

to put it away for me the way they would for Galen.

Across the lane, Master Vyalis’s workshop guards stood at attention, their uniforms perfectly pressed, no dice in sight. They

took pride in working for him, in a way I doubted our guards would ever feel.

Every workshop had its own guards, but today there were several extra, wearing the black of the Imperial Guards.

A pair were stationed at the mouth of Gem Lane, under the ornamental arch.

A crush of sound came from beyond. The throngs of people on the main road seemed even more tightly packed from this angle.

A half dozen food carts, street vendors selling festival knickknacks, flower sellers peddling ropes of fragrant jasmine. More

and more were coming, spilling from streets and alleyways, all sorts, pressing in with a hunger, up on their toes, trying

to see—

It happened before I had a choice. The crowd pushed in and carried me with it.

Girlish screams came from women of all ages. Flutes and drums and the two voices of a sitar floated on the air.

Bodies, everywhere. An elbow in my neck. Sweat and perfume, the air thick, too thick to breathe—

The sky seemed so small. I gasped. I could die here without anyone realizing. I was—invisible—

And then, an inch of fresh air. The pressure lessened. A puff on my ear. “There you are. Easy, now.”

I shivered. Rane loomed over me, bracketing me with his arms. He seemed taller, larger—

His eyes were soft with pity.

I backed away into another body.

“Wait,” he said.

My mother’s ring was on. “How did you find me?”

He gave a helpless smile. “I looked.”

“That’s not—”

“Have you had a chance to give my regards to your boss?”

I didn’t want to work for him. He saw too much. “He—he can’t do it.”

His brows knitted together. “But he doesn’t even know what it is.”

“He—can’t—”

“You don’t understand—”

A gap opened between two women. I dove for it, and the crowd carried me forward. I glanced back once. Rane reached for me;

his mouth opened, but no sound came out. It was drowned by the shrieking, the screaming, a wall of sound.

His fingertips brushed my elbow.

I pushed forward. At once the crowd parted, and I was pushing on air.

Momentum carried me forward, and my hands and elbows hit gravel. I scrambled onto my knees, my ears ringing, my heartbeat

thudding in time with the drums—

Hooves glinting like knives. A horse so pale it was almost blue, rearing up. A silver hand gripping the reins—silver skin,

iridescent. Snakeskin. A man—a beast—long silver hair, unbound, glinting—my mother’s voice, whispering, They only cut it when defeated—

A headdress like a cobra’s hood. The Serpent King. His eyes were like molten metal—overheated, aglow, piercing—burning—

My body was wrenched up to my knees. Rane bowed before the king. His hand gripped my neck and forced my head down.

“Forgive her, my king,” he said. “She cannot be blamed, for you have this effect on women.”

Rane dragged me back into the crowd, then wheeled on me. “Are you, perhaps, an idiot?”

Eyes were on me. Dozens of them. The entire crowd. My hands shook, and I squeezed my mother’s ring.

A warm weight settled on my shoulders, and a hood was drawn up over my head. All those eyes could no longer find me. A comforting scent enveloped me, softly aquatic, like a crisp lake surrounded by sandalwood and persimmon trees.

“Never mind,” came Rane’s voice. “You won’t be the last to throw yourself at the Serpent King, but at least today, you were

the first. Look, are you all right?”

To be invisible—you can’t show what you feel.

“Of course,” I said. “I’m perfectly fine.”

A pause. “That’s going a bit far, isn’t it?”

“Thank you for your help. Please, I won’t keep you from the festivities.”

The crowd thinned as the bulk followed the Serpent King.

I ran.

“Wait!” Rane called.

I dove past a pair of Imperial Guards. He didn’t follow. So he was hiding from them.

Halfway to the Merchant District, I realized his cloak was still wrapped around my shoulders.

At the gates to the Palace Quarter, an attendant checked Galen’s invitation and waved us in.

Galen seemed to have finally gotten distracted from his line of questioning about Rane’s cloak. In my shock, I’d walked into

the workshop with it on, and since then it’d been Where did you get it? Who were you with? You have a lover, don’t you?

I’d faked a laugh and tucked the cloak away in my room. I didn’t want to tell him about Rane. I knew he’d want to take the job. So I stayed quiet, and when it was time, I put on my servant’s livery and accompanied Galen to his summons.

Galen wore an ostentatious scarlet ensemble, with hints of violet that matched my livery. Poor Grimney had tried on his livery

with hope in his eyes. It was three years old now, and Grimney had grown three feet taller and wider. Galen wouldn’t hear

of it. I promised to bring Grimney back a select rock or two.

I’d spent the afternoon modifying my mother’s ring with the bands of gold and orichalcum. It was stronger now. Already one