Page 104 of Embrace the Serpent

I nodded my thanks to the healer—I didn’t trust that I could speak around the knot in my throat—and stepped out into the hallway, joining the cluster of huntsmen.

They loomed like giants in the tight quarters of the corridor, and I would’ve been intimidated if it weren’t for the soft looks of worry that they all wore.

My gaze went to Rane. There was something different about his Serpent King guise. The long silver hair, the inhumanly sharp cheekbones, all that was the same. But his gestures, his expressions, they felt somehow heavier, more solid. He no longer wore it like a costume that was several sizes too big.

The Serpent King spoke. “We have only a few hours before dawn. Tell me what has changed.”

A huntsman with trembling hands dropped her pen. Before, Rane would’ve shot her a smile to set her at ease, to bolster her courage. Now he merely nodded curtly, his lips pressed into a thin line, and said, “No need for that.” The huntsman straightened, her fear replaced by a rigid obedience.

The Serpent King gestured for the huntsmen to draw closer. They encircled him, and a few ducked their heads as he neared, a gesture of respect for their king. A huntsman began, “The eagle folk are in position. We think they will attempt to cross the lake.”

My mind painted an image of Rane in his dark-haired illusion, sharing a joke that cut the tension and uplifted their spirits.

But the Serpent King listened to their reports without a single emotion crossing his features, and his responses were just as even.

I followed him with my eyes, my chest tightening with each step he took away from me. He never looked back. His huntsmen watched me warily, guessing what it was that I clutched to my chest. I dropped my gaze to the floor. Some wore decidedly unfriendly expressions, and I longed to disappear, to blend in with the wall.

“My lady. Is there anything I can help you with?” a feminine voice said. A huntsman whose dark brown hair was tied in warrior’s braids gave me a small nod of acknowledgment.

“A worktable. A jewelsmith’s forge.” I paused at the way her lips thinned. I guessed they didn’t have those. But I could make one. “Fire brick, charcoal, fire starter.”

She nodded.

Over her shoulder, I met his eyes. He had turned at the sound of my voice. For a moment, the world fell away, and I searched everyinch of his face. There was no quick softening around his eyes, no beautiful crinkling, and his lips were flat, perfectly even, and I missed the way they used to cant up to one side, even when he was resting, like he was always quietly amused.

His heartstone was warm against my chest, but the man before me was so cold he might have been carved from marble.

He came to me, and he seemed taller, and his eyes were strange. His pupils had become slits. “You should get to work.”

“I’m going now.” I took a step back and hesitated. “How do you feel?”

There was a flicker of something, a flicker of what might be Rane. “...Feel?” He paused. “I am not what I was. But I will be what my people need.”

I wanted to say something else, but what could I say in front of all his huntsmen? How would it look if, on the eve of battle, his little wife asked him if he loved her still?

I nodded. I turned and strode down the hall without looking back. It was too embarrassing, too painful to meet his gaze and know what his answer would’ve been.

The submerged levels no longer felt strange to me as I descended the steps. The tall windows revealed a lake as dark as the night sky; that is, black but for the softly glowing sea creatures that swam in the distance. One swam close, its ridged body peppered with pinpricks that shone like blue-green candles, and it trained its dark, bulbous eye on me.

There was intelligence in its look, and when I gave it a little bow, it bobbed its head in return.

A throat was cleared behind me. A handful of huntsmen followed me like immense, well-muscled ducklings, their arms laden with everything I would need.

“This way,” I said, and led them to the door. Rane and I had tied a thread that went from the door to the shrine, and I used it to find my way. The distance didn’t seem quite so far without Rane to distract me, or perhaps I was walking faster because of the heavy footfalls that dogged my every step.

Their gasps rang out as we reached the shrine, awe clear in their wide eyes and agape mouths, though they pasted on neutral, soldierly expressions when they noticed my gaze.

The golden marvel of jewelsmithing twinkled in the light of our lanterns.

Within a short amount of time, I had everything I needed set up beside the shrine. A vast worktable held my tools and what I needed to make a padded vise to hold the heartstone. As the huntsmen deposited what they carried, I found quite a few things I hadn’t asked for, like ancient tools that probably once belonged to a blacksmith, a basket of bits and pieces that may have once been part of a loom, and large pointy wood-handled things that could’ve been farming implements or fishing harpoons, for all I knew. It was like they imagined that the more tools I had, the better our odds. But I thanked them because I understood. They were helpless in the domain of jewelsmithing, the same way I was helpless when it came to getting my Rane back.

I was bent over the heartstone, setting it in the vise, when a nervous cough came from my side.

The braided huntsman. She was the brave one, it seemed, for theothers stood far away from the shrine and the jewelsmithing within. “My lady, do you need further assistance?”

Every time she called memylady, a shiver went down my spine. It was what people called Lady Incarnadine, not me. But all I said was, “No, thank you.”

“We’ll send someone to stay with you,” she said. “I’m afraid the rest of us need to—”

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