Page 11 of Embrace the Serpent

—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’sunfashionable, 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. Adozen 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—

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