Page 62 of Embrace the Serpent

“I’m afraid he would not.”

My estimation of the Serpent King was on a rapid decline. “You shouldn’t listen to him, then.”

“It’s not so simple. You’ll understand once we get home.”

Home. The Serpent Kingdom was his home, but where was mine?

Rane clicked his teeth. “They’re early.”

A dust cloud was coming nearer. A half dozen Imperial Guards at least.

“How are they catching up with us?”

“We got rid of all the tracker stones,” I said.

Rane nodded.

There had to be something else, something I’d overlooked.

“Let’s go,” Rane said. But we headed away from his friend, whose carriage was as yet unhitched to his horses.

A large wagon was taking off. I caught a glimpse of colorful paint on the sides, but I couldn’t make out more than that.

Rane handed me up, and I scrambled into the dark interior, cupping my pocket to protect a sleeping Grimney. Rane leapt in after me, and we drew the curtain down. A half dozen Imperial Guards marched out, surrounded by the chaos of departing vehicles.

A melodic voice came from behind us. “My, what do we have here?”

There were four of them. Two were in the process of washing off a thick layer of cosmetics. One held a zither; it twanged out of tune. The last had the shiniest bald dome I’d ever seen, with a luxurious beard to offset it. His eyes were large and romantic.

Along one side of the wagon were rolled-up canvases, heavily painted. Stage backdrops. A trunk overflowed with crowns, swords, costumes.

“How wonderful!” Rane said. “Actors!”

I reached for the curtain. The ground whooshed past, fast enough that jumping would hurt badly, but I’d likely survive—

A hand gripped my dress and hauled me back inside the wagon. Rane put his arm around my shoulders and said, “This is my wife.We’ve had to run, you see. Our families... they did not approve.” A convincing sorrow came to his eyes, and his lips trembled like he was putting on a brave smile. I gaped at him.

“How touching,” said a woman with kind, honey-colored eyes. She wiped the last of the makeup from her lips and smiled. “We know something of that, don’t we, Barad?”

Barad was the bald man. He leaned back, and it was clear he was the leader. “Let’s not get taken in, love.”

“We can pay,” I said.

“We can paywell,” Rane confirmed.

“We can’t throw them out,” the honey-eyed woman said. “Not when that villain is on the loose.”

Barad’s brow arched.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

Barad cleared his throat. “Well, then, welcome to your humble chariot.”

I revised my opinion of who the leader was as Rane burst into a flowery expression of thanks. We soon learned that they were indeed a theater troupe, six strong. Two were up front at the rein; one was the writer, and the second the artist in charge of keeping the props and backdrops.

The honey-eyed woman introduced herself as Maras, the musician plucked a few notes and refused to speak, and the last member was a doe-eyed person who murmured about beauty sleep and tucked themselves into a hammock.

As they settled in for the night, I found myself playing with my mother’s ring, my thumb mapping the crack in the dark blue stone.My hand stilled. That day, in the baths, Incarnadine had taken my mother’s ring. Could she have done something to it? Embedded a small tracker stone, somehow? It would’ve been smart to toss it, especially as it could never work again. But I couldn’t.