Page 120 of Embrace the Serpent

I owe you. If you ever need my aid, I will come. And, I’m happy for you. You have always deserved happiness.

—Mirandel.

I looked closer at the dried thing on my lap. Three stems had been braided together—a memory came to me, of stealing flowers from the garden, braiding their stems into as elaborate a pattern as my seven-year-old hands could manage. It had once been a bracelet, but at some point in time, it had snapped. I knew Mirandel had stolen it, but I had never imagined that she would’ve kept it. I tucked it safely away.

Only then did I notice that Grimney had disappeared. Before Icould think on it, Rane’s mother put a hand on my shoulder. “One last thing.”

She braided my hair with enchanted flowers that would never wilt. Her hands moved deliberately, careful not to tug. We had yet to speak properly—if I was a woman of few words, she was a woman of fewer. We had spent some time in amiable silence; at least, I hoped it was. From her end, it might’ve been horrified silence.

From a box at her feet, she drew out a veil of gossamer silk, beautifully embroidered. “I began this when Rane was born. Each year, as Rane grew, I added to it. I made a wish on each stitch, hoping he would choose someone who suited him, who loved him, who would make him stronger and happier.”

She pinned the veil to my hair and pressed a kiss to my temple. “A mother hopes for the best for her child. If I searched every corner of this world, I would not find another like you.”

My eyes watered again. I sniffled all the way down to the floating gardens, across the bridge. Every surface was strewn with twinkling lights, and the bushes and trees had been coaxed into a full bloom. The anticipation grew under my skin, and only my mother’s hand at my elbow kept me from rushing ahead.

On either side of the path stood divine peoples. They bowed to me as I passed. One raised a hand to touch the jeweled amulet that hung over his heart, and I smiled. I had spent the last three months crafting amulets like the one I made for Rane’s grandmother. They were based on what I’d learned from Incarnadine’s lamp. Each was special, tailored to shield the wearer’s heart, so only they could control it.

I was possibly the only jewelsmith that lost money on every piece. Rane’s treasury had paid to procure the jewels and everything else I needed. I could almost hear Galen calling me an idiot for giving the amulets away freely, but I just couldn’t take the divine people’s coin, not when I was only righting a wrong. Maybe it did make me an idiot, but I could live with that.

My mother’s grip loosened on my elbow as we crossed the last bridge to the floating island at the heart of the gardens. My heart began to thud and my stomach filled with butterflies as I caught sight of the tip of the pavilion, as it all came into view.

There he was.

Looking down and toying with his sleeve, his silver hair half braided in a regal circlet, his clothes gleaming and probably beautiful, but at that moment, he looked up, and a delighted smile split his face, and nothing else mattered.

It was like the sun had come out. Of all the faces he showed to the world, this was the one I loved most. Charming, a little boyish, his smile a little crooked. His true face.

A laugh bubbled out of me, and I ran into his arms, forgetting our audience and everything proper. He caught me and held me close, and everything was warmth and the scent of ivy and sun-kissed water.

“I missed you too,” he murmured into my hair.

“It was only a week,” I said to the embroidery at his chest. “It would’ve been silly to miss you.”

A low chuckle. “It’s all right. I won’t tell.”

He took my hands in his, and I put enough space between us for the ceremony to begin.

I couldn’t pay attention to the rituals; it felt like the floaty, heady warmth in me would carry me away into the sky. Rane’s thumbs caressed my hands, and I noticed the faint trace of ink on his fingers. It wasn’t just from the notes he had written to me. He had spent the last three months composing messages to the old families and the new, inviting them to the Serpent Kingdom, and forging relationships. Our borders were open and would remain so, and his heart would stay in his chest, where it belonged.

From the stacks of letters he had received in return, his charm seemed to be working, turning strangers into allies. But anything could grow from the ashes of the Empire, and just in case, I had started work on a different sort of border enchantment. Darvald had only scratched the surface of what jewelsmithing could do. Of what I could do.

I squeezed Rane’s ink-stained hand, and his eyes crinkled as he squeezed back.

Our hands were tied together by a length of silk—a tradition from my home. My mother had filled me up with stories of her wedding and her mother’s before her, all the way back as far as she knew. And then we spoke vows over sacred water in the traditions of the Serpent Kingdom.

There was a pause, and the sound of little rock feet came from down the path. Grimney strode toward us, his chest puffed out, clad in a smartly tailored little jacket and trousers. On a little silken pillow, he held our rings.

“Don’t laugh,” Rane said. “I did warn you.”

I stifled my giggle. “Warn me?”

“Did you not get my note?”

That was what he wanted to tell me? But it wouldn’t have mattered. Grimney looked too adorable, and I couldn’t get rid of my smile as he approached. I knelt and kissed his little rocky cheek. “Thank you. You look very dashing.”

Grimney grinned and held out the pillow. Though I’d made both rings, seeing them now was seeing them anew. On mine, a faceted sapphire was cut like a window, to reveal a fragment of Rane’s scale beneath. Rane’s was made with the stone from my mother’s ring, but I’d filled in the crack with gold and small sapphires, and it looked a little like a serpent’s eye. The sapphires were the same, and our rings would let us find our way to each other.

Rane knelt on Grimney’s other side and took my ring from the pillow. Grimney patted his own cheek, and Rane obligingly kissed him.

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