Page 105 of Embrace the Serpent

“Don’t worry about me,” I said, turning back to my work. “I’ll be fine.”

Their footsteps receded, and my shoulders unclenched.

My little makeshift workroom looked rather out of place in the cavern. It couldn’t be helped. And besides, Darvald would’ve worked the same way. Maybe even had his table in the same spot. It was the flattest area, right next to the shrine. Maybe his ghost was here, watching me once again fix one of his pieces.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “I’ll fix this,” I said to the air. “But this is the last time I touch your work.”

The air did not respond.

But a hope grew in my chest: if I made this work and the army was forced back beyond the border, then over the next year I could make the new version that I’d dreamed up. My own work. And then I could give Rane back his heart.

First, I had to do this as quickly as possible. The fastest path was to cut down Rane’s heartstone to match the old one exactly, so it could fit in its place with a minimum of adjustments. I measured Rane’s carefully, ignoring the sensations that came from it, playful and curious, warm and protective. To map out the cuts in advance,I had to make sure there were no imperfections in the stone that would cause it to break in a way I didn’t want.

The only way to measure the old heartstone was to slip into the shrine, lower myself into a careful crouch beside the goldwork, and as gently as a butterfly landing on a leaf, wrap a cord around the jewel. The tiny marks all along the cord’s length told me numbers that I jotted down.

I held my breath as I unwrapped the cord and rewrapped it around the old heartstone at a lower angle. Despite the cold, my hands sweated as I wrapped and rewrapped the cord. Soon, my notepad filled with careful measurements, each facet drawn and measured. After a dozen measurements, my thighs cramped, and carefully,carefully, I shifted my weight. It would’ve been easier to take it out and bring it to the worktable, but I didn’t want to pull it out until the last moment, with the new one ready to slot in its place. Otherwise, I’d be giving Incarnadine’s troops a helping hand by dropping the border enchantment entirely.

The rhythm of the work drew me in like a spell, and the ache in my thighs faded away. I don’t know how long I was like that, barely conscious of the outside world, until one of the lanterns flickered out, and the sudden dimness pulled me back.

I relit it, and the light fell upon the pool of water, casting shadows on the boulders beyond. It didn’t reach the walls of the cavern, which loomed so dark and distant that I could almost pretend it was still nighttime. But even though no sunlight could reach me here, my body knew it was morning. Above, the fighting had begun. Blood was being spilled for every second I took.

My stomach twisted, and I wasted another dozen seconds willing my hands to stop shaking.

I dove back into my work.

The sound of approaching footsteps barely entered my notice, easy enough to ignore. A cough came, and then another, louder. A deep voice said, “My lady.”

Sensation returned to me. I sat back on my heels, and my stomach let out a sad little growl like it was about to give up on ever being fed. My thighs burned, my ankles trembled, and my neck had a crick so well set that when I limped out of the shrine, I had to hold my head at an angle. I massaged my neck, waving in the direction of whichever poor huntsman had drawn the short straw of checking in on me. I croaked, “I’m fine.”

“My lady—it’s urgent.”

I snapped my head up. “I can’t leave my work—Vanon?”

The huntsman had stepped closer, and the light caught his bronze hair and familiar face. Vanon’s cheeks were hollow; there were dark circles under his eyes. “You’re needed upstairs. They said you had to come. Something’s happened...” He hesitated. “They said I shouldn’t spring it on you. But it’s your mother.”

The nervousness in his eyes set off the embers that had been smoldering in my gut since dawn.

I flew across the bridge, into the tunnels, and up, up through the door and up the stairs—and as I climbed the stairs, it struck me what I would find—carnage everywhere; rubble from where the palace had been breached; the air thick with stone dust; and my mother,my mother whom I had gotten a second chance to know, whom I would never know, if I reached the top of the stairs and she was gone, her body in a pool of blood, just like back then—

I burst out into the entrance hall.

Three startled townsfolk shrieked, and one dropped his basket of laundry. I pushed through to the center of the hall, picking my way through the crowd of palace servants and townsfolk, seeing no rubble, no blood, no bodies.

My heartbeat echoed through my head.

A gust of wind carried voices from the courtyard. The Serpent King’s long silver hair glinted in the sunlight. At the edge where the flagstones of the courtyard met the lapping waves of the lake, he stood with several of his huntsmen, leaning over a table laid with a map. A winged runner landed—she had birdlike features that were less eagle and more pigeon—and brought him a scroll, breathlessly delivering a report.

She pointed at the watchtower across the lake. The Imperial Army seemed like ants, swarming down the forested slope in neat dark lines. They had surrounded the watchtower, but it seemed they could not get in through the stone or up the smooth walls.

On the forest side, Imperial soldiers toppled trees, making flat barges to cross the lake. On the town side, smoke rose into the sky over the pearly bridges and canals.

“They’re torching the town,” one of the huntsmen was saying. “My father’s shop—”

The Serpent King shook his head, a note of warning in his voice. “They want us to meet them in battle. We won’t be tempted. We can rebuild, if we survive.”

I had too little breath to speak. “I—”

He noticed me. “What are you doing here?”

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