Page 68 of Embrace the Serpent

“N—n—nothing.”

“Perhaps that’s enough.”

I gripped the ladle and poured more water over me. The rivulets on the ground sparkled.

The ladle slipped from my fingers, landing with a clatter.

“Saphira,” Rane said, in a low, commanding voice. “It won’t help anyone if you freeze to death.”

It wasn’t a problem. I couldn’t really feel the cold anymore. “I d-don’t want her to find m-me.”

He drew in a ragged breath. “I know. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

“What if it’s not all g-gone?”

“You’ve washed a lot off, haven’t you? So the guards will be thrown off your scent no matter what. And if you find that there’s still dust on you, tomorrow you’ll wash again. With warm water.”

My mind felt fuzzy. I couldn’t find holes in his logic. “I c-can’t wear my old clothes again.”

He held out an arm. Draped across his forearm was his cloak.

I tiptoed to him and took it, drawing it around me. It was warm and smelled like him. “I’m turning around.”

Gently, he tugged my damp hair out from under his cloak and dried it with another washcloth. He combed it with his fingers, his nails scratching softly at my scalp, and something electric followed his touch. He braided it.

My body shivered, a burning warmth tickled my hands, my feet, my core.

He didn’t meet my gaze. He was intent on the work.

“You’re good at this,” I said.

Now his eyes met mine. “I’m a man of many talents.”

“How did you learn?”

He paused. “My lord has a lot of hair.”

I imagined him sitting behind the Serpent King, braiding his hair. It was too odd a picture.

“It’s not that funny,” Rane said, but the corner of his lips curled.

I tried to hide my smile. “All part of a huntsman’s job, is it?”

“Yes. And I’m your huntsman now.”

“Now,” I repeated. “Until we reach the kingdom.”

“Until then,” he promised. His gaze fell to my lips.

My body heated, tingling all over, and I didn’t know if it was the cold or—or something else. I couldn’t breathe. No. I didn’t wantsomething else.

I ducked my head and pushed past him. “I—” I tried to say something lighthearted, but nothing came.

The wagon was the safest place I had, so I crept into it. Maras was there, and I mumbled some explanation. She offered me a pair of trousers and a long tunic and refused payment. She murmured something.

I nodded, but I was only half paying attention. I didn’t understand the terror squeezing my chest, the way my ears were starkly aware of every footfall and breath from outside the wagon, from where I’d left Rane.

True to his word, in the morning the commander ordered the gates opened, and our painted wagon rambled out of the fortress while the sky was still dark. Rane’s gaze landed on me gently, like a butterfly settling on a flower, and I glanced up at his eyes.

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