Page 80 of Embrace the Serpent

“Yes,” he said, his voice a rumble at my back. “My huntsmen are all able to take on the role, so to speak, as long as I put the illusion on them. We prepared for this mission specifically; we assumed that anything that could go wrong would do so. But there’s little we can’t escape with a hearty amount of misdirection, a bit of flash, and a mild amount of chaos.”

“Our wedding,” I said, “who was the Serpent King then?”

“I was.”

“The carriage ride out of the city?”

“That was Vanon. Of all my huntsmen, he knows me best. When I’m not wearing the guise of the Serpent King, he usually is.”

I frowned, remembering the way he had groaned about sitting with me.

Rane seemed to understand my silence, because he said, “Was he horrible? He’s usually a little horrible. He was born that way. Cautious and cynical.”

“Was it him you were arguing with, that night in the tent, before the wedding?”

“You heard that? Yes, that was him.”

“Cobalt Town? Our wedding night?”

“That was me. I wouldn’t have—and anyway, it’s not like we—” He snapped his mouth shut with an audible click. “Next question.”

There was one question that lingered on the tip of my tongue. Who was the Serpent King in the forest, covered in blood?

I couldn’t bring myself to ask, not pressed so close to him, not when I didn’t know what that would mean.

The air grew warmer and humid as the vegetation grew denser and wetter. The sounds of the wild surrounded us, the canopy teeming with birdsong and a strange chittering, creatures rustling through the vegetation below. Small flowers grew on everything like stars, scenting the air sweetly, mingling with the scent of mushrooms and damp.

We came to a small clearing. Rane drew the horse to a standstill before a wall of trees so tangled with vines that we would need to hack our way through.

“We’re here,” he said.

He raised a finger, and just beyond his fingertip, the world shimmered and shifted.

A seam appeared in the air, sewn with such tiny stitches as to be nearly invisible. Rane drew his finger down, and following his motion, the seam unraveled and a hidden pocket of the world appeared.

The trees slunk apart, bowing their canopies and forming an archway. A path emerged, speckled with tiny stones that caught the moonlight.

A delicious thrill went down my spine.

Rane whispered into my ear. “Would you like to enter my kingdom?”

“That’s where the job is,” I said.

Grimney stood up on the horse’s back, and I steadied him.

We rode through the seam, and a violent shiver shook me. The air was cooler on this side, and it smelled of recent rain and crushed mint. The creature noises were stranger; a bird was singing a lament. The moonlight was softer, gentler.

A cold wind ran its fingers down the skin of my arms. A whispering began at the edges of my hearing, growing louder with each step. An invisible force tugged at me, urging me to turn back.

Dread fell over me like a too-heavy blanket. My stomach roiled.

I gripped at the reins, but I couldn’t dislodge Rane’s hands. “We have to turn back.”

“Saphira?”

Shadows were lurking in the trees, eyes watching from the darkness. The ground beneath us pulsed, the path writhing like a living entity.

My head throbbed. “We can’t—Something’s wrong.”

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