Page 84 of Embrace the Serpent

He had not felt so much of a king in the Imperial City. There he was an outsider. But here, the way people hung on to his words, the new set to his shoulders, upright and confident, but also a little burdened—he really was aking.

The healer bowed. “My lord, if you will?” She gestured to the bedroom.

“Not me,” Rane said, drawing me forward. “The wards got her.”

I interrupted. “Your injury is far more serious.”

Rane lowered himself onto a cushion, pasting a lordly expression on his face. “I’ll permit her to look me over as soon as she’s done with you.”

The healer met my eyes with an amused expression. “I’m really fine,” I whispered to her.

She dutifully looked me over, lingering at the twin marks on my wrist, before telling me to rest and that the wards and the venom might have lasting effects.

She had only just turned her attention to Rane, when came the patter of quick footsteps outside.

A low feminine voice came, growing louder. “Oh, Naina, you’re here—have you heard—you have?—It’s dreadful isn’t it—Abride, can you believe the nerve of him—No, don’t fret, your shawl is fine, dear—Oh, don’t blame me, I did my best—He must get it from your side of the family—”

Two women barged in. One was like a spear, tall and sharp and frowning, and the other was short and bent and smiling.

I smiled back at the short one. Like a trap snapping shut, her eyes narrowed. “Adamant,” she said. “Introduce us.”

“I’m Saphira, the—”

“My bride,” Rane said, cutting me off before I could sayjewelsmith.

“Come, now,” the short one continued, “the rumors cannot be true. My darling little one would never get married in the Imperial City.”

Rane had a mulish expression. “We did.”

“Oh, dear,” said the tall one mildly, wringing her hands. “Well, when one is in love—”

The short one interrupted, growing weepier with each word. “With none of our customs? None of our people? Do you hate us so? I told you, Naina, nothing good would come of his curiosity—always wanting to see beyond the border—”

“It wasn’t curiosity,” Rane said.

“What was it, then?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, she went on. “Now he keeps secrets from us. What secret can you keep from me? What can you not tell your grandmother, why, I was there when you shed your first skin—”

I said, “What?”

Twin spots of pink rose in Rane’s cheeks and melted away quickly, as if he had drawn an illusion over them.

The short one was muttering. “If your brother were here—”

“He isn’t.” Rane said sharply. And then sighing, “Please, Grandmother. The healer says I need rest. I could die if I say another word.”

The healer stiffened and, at Rane’s look, nodded awkwardly.

The short one toddled over, and Rane bent so she could pat his cheeks. “You need food, is what you need. And what the people need is to celebrate.”

“Do whatever you want. Plan another wedding, if you must. But leave us be.” He collapsed into a chair, an arm over his eyes.

The short one left grinning, like she’d achieved her means. The tall one hung back. “She wants what’s best for you, as do I.”

“I know,” Rane grumbled.

She turned to me. “I am Naina, Rane’s mother. Welcome to the family. I am looking forward to getting to know you.”

“Er, thank you,” I said, and bowed. As my nose was pointed at the ground, it occurred to me that bowing was expected of jewelsmiths, but perhaps not of whatever I was pretending to be.

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