Page 83 of Embrace the Serpent

The town had come awake, a handful of people gathering to see who the horn heralded. And what fascinating people they were; a too-thin, too-tall man with glowing eyes; a blue-skinned figure whose clothes swirled like water; a wizened being who came up to my knee, their white beard nearly as tall as they were.

Rane said, “I feel light as air, to be back home. To tell you the truth, I didn’t think we could pull this mission off.”

“This mission, meaning me.”

“Indeed.”

“You didn’t think I would come?”

“I thought we would be killed.”

A huntsman hurried from the watchtower, arriving at Rane’s side and keeping pace with us. “My lord?”

“We need a healer,” Rane murmured, while smiling at his people. The huntsman disappeared into the crowd.

Rane sucked in a sharp breath. His grip briefly tightened on my arm.

“I’m fine,” he said, before I could ask.

“Remember,” I said, “I can tell when you’re hiding.”

He breathed a laugh as we reached the lake’s shore.

Swans rose from the water, pulling an open-air chariot shaped like a lotus. It swayed under my feet, and Rane slipped an arm around my waist.

A fine sweat glimmered on his skin. I wrapped my arm around his waist, taking some of his weight. “I’m not helping you,” I said, “as you’re clearly fine. I need help keeping my balance.”

His eyes laughed. “Glad to be of assistance.”

Fish glided past, their movements slow and graceful, while strange plants swayed in the currents, their tendrils long and sinuous. And then, deeper, sea serpents swam below, their skin glinting like shards of sunlight.

The palace seemed to float on the lake, its foundation blending seamlessly with the water. Turrets and towers reached skyward, their domes capped with pale blue tiles that shimmered faintly. Ivy of palest green wrapped itself around the walls, its scent crisp and mingling with the cool morning air. This was what I smelled on Rane, on his cloak.

Balconies jutted out from the palace, supported by columns that arched lightly, like cobras about to strike. The balustrades were intricate lattices of pale stone, twisted and curled into the shapes of horses, dragons, lotuses. Through the wide, arched windows, I caught glimpses of ethereal spaces; a terrace where a fountain bubbled, catching the sunlight and gleaming pale gold; a hall of gold mosaic, and I imagined that dancing there might feel like dancing upon the sun itself; a floating garden where heavy buds hung indolently, waiting to bloom, upon trees that bowed like courtiers.

The grand entrance was a set of double doors made from wood so ancient that time had polished it as pale and smooth as stone. Silver handles were shaped like entwined serpents, but before I could touch them, the doors swung open of their own accord.

A grand hall, its ceiling high and vaulted, supported by columns of pale marble. The chandeliers above were brass and sea glass, their many arms holding candles that flickered with a warm, golden light. The scent I associated with Rane was stronger here, sun-kissed water, fresh green vines, and something dark and heady, like flowers that bloomed at night.

Inside, the air was filled with the soft murmur of the lake, the sound of water lapping gently against the palace’s outer walls. A grand staircase curved both up and down, upward to the higher floors suffused with pink morning light, and downward into the depths of the palace, where I could faintly make out long columns painted in a hazy, rippling blue-green light.

“Do you like it?” Rane whispered.

I didn’t answer. I was too awed.

We took the stairs up, and an attendant met us at the landing. “The healer is waiting in your rooms.”

Rane’s rooms were at the heart of the palace. He coughed as he opened the double doors. “I told them not to touch anything,” he said apologetically.

Oversized cushions in jewel-toned silks were strewn haphazardly across the floor. A low table of polished teak dominated the center of the room, littered with an assortment of odds and ends—a half-finished game of chess, a stack of parchment covered in hastily scrawled notes, and an eclectic array of trinkets and baubles.

At one end of the room, a massive window looked out onto the gardens and the lake beyond, its panes adorned with delicate carvings of lotus blossoms and swirling patterns. Sunlight streamed throughthe glass, casting warm pools of light onto the polished stone floor. A small birdcage hung from the ceiling, and its occupant—a rather sly-looking nightingale—trilled in welcome.

“I told you to go out and see the world.” Rane opened the birdcage. The bird clasped the bars in its beak and shut the door again.

“My lord? You called for me?” The healer had long, flowing hair and a serpentine look to her features. She had stepped out of another room, and just visible behind her was the edge of a lavish bed.

I squirmed. These were Rane’s private rooms. A king’s.

---