Page 33 of Embrace the Serpent

“I’m no—” I cut myself off before I could blurt out the truth and ruin the illusion.

The first guard crossed his arms. “Well, are you a thief or aren’t you?”

I bit my lip.

“Take her,” said one of the guards.

Hands grabbed me. I shouted, “I’m not a thief!”

Horsepiss. The sudden shiver that spread from my crown told me I’d lost the illusion.

A moment of shock. Then the mustached guard raised the order and glanced from it to my face. “It’s her!”

“Unhand her.” Rane’s voice.

A laugh came from one of the dozens of Imperial Guards that surrounded us. A mob, a wall of guards—summoned from nearby like ants at the sight of a crumb of cake. “We’ll take you in, too.”

“I am a huntsman of the Serpent King,” said Rane. “You will release her.”

I felt the hands on my arms tense. “I’m sorry—sir—but we have to take her—orders come straight from the Rose Palace, see?”

A sudden gasp came from the guards, from the onlookers. I turned my head as far as I could and saw the oxen had transformed back to warrior horses with sea-foam manes.

Gravel crunched as footfalls closed in. A deep voice commanded, “You have nothing to fear, as long as you remove your hands from her.”

All at once, I was let go. But the mustached guard stuttered. “S-she’s a criminal, my lord—”

“No.” An arm like a tree trunk wrapped around my waist. “She is my bride.”

7

The Serpent King’s proclamation slithered its way through the air, and you could measure its progress by the way expressions of confusion sprouted in its wake. A ripple of dumbfoundment.

It had nothing to do with the king: everyone knew he was here to find a bride, just like any other noble who came for the Season. Their confusion came when they looked at me with my hair in unruly waves that I hadn’t brushed in, well, long enough ago that I couldn’t remember, and though I’d like to flatter myself and say that I was not particularly hideous, my face wasn’t at its best advantage with my mouth agape and eyes bulging.

The Serpent King pinched my side.

I stammered. “Bride?”

“Do not be shy, my little rabbit,” he said, and—did snakes eat rabbits? I had a feeling they did. There was an intent look in his silver eyes. “To the noble guards of this fine city, I thank you for your excellent service. And...”

He turned, and his arm meant I turned with him. The carpet seller’s wagon had transformed into an open carriage befitting the Serpent King. Silver and blues, like dawn on the surface of a lake. Three of his huntsmen stood at the ready—only three, which meant Rane was keeping the others disguised.

The one by the foot of the carriage gave me a little nod. That, I hoped, was Rane.

The Serpent King turned again. My gaze went to the far distance, to the city gates. My stomach plummeted: they were shut. How were we going to get out?

“I thank you,” the Serpent King continued, “for providing an escort to the Rose Palace for my bride and me.”

The Rose Palace? My body stiffened with horror. But his words had a different effect on the guards. They were no longer inching forward as if they would seize me, and their confusion had given way to a jostling eagerness to serve.

The Serpent King’s arm grew insistent, pushing me toward the carriage. A huntsman—Rane—gripped my elbow and helped me up and into the plush interior. The Serpent King sat right beside me as if he knew I was about to throw myself out the window. I scooted away from him.

The carriage glided to a roll, and the clip-clop of the horses was soon joined by the normal sounds of the street. Imperial Guards jogged alongside, clearing the way with barked shouts, each looking puffed up and pleased with themselves.

Looking straight ahead, the Serpent King murmured, “Do play along. We cannot fight our way out.” Every word that left his lips was framed by the hint of fangs.

“I’m not your bride,” I whispered.

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