Page 27 of Sonnets and Serpents
Yvette caught him by the arm, pulling him to the other side of the room for a hushed conversation.
“I’ll tell you what I mean,” she said quietly, speaking Loegrian. Her sharp eyes pinned him like a research subject. “I remember two years ago when Iyal Afshin brought a new student to my office, fresh off a boat from Loegria, full of fragile hope.”
Silas shifted uncomfortably. “What do I have to do with—”
“Afshin told me your father did all the talking for you, enrolled you in university and demanded you be taught arespectablefield. Economics. Your father said by the time you returned in two years, you’d have a true appreciation for your own country and be ready to inherit your title.”
“I remember well enough,” Silas muttered.
“Then you’ll remember why Afshin brought you to me instead of to the head of economics.”
“Because you spoke Loegrian.”
She snorted. “Because the only question you asked during your university tour was, ‘Is it true Pravusat has no laws against magic?’ Because you still wore a bandage on your throat from a fresh wound that was nearly fatal, and you flinched whenever your father lifted his arm near you. We’re not fools, Silas, and our primary objective on this campus is to help every student, in whatever way is best for them.” With clear meaning, she tipped her head toward the princess.
“She’s not a student,” said Silas, with more petulance than he cared to admit.
Yvette raised a smooth eyebrow, and she held her pose, firm as a statue, until Silas fidgeted.
“Youare,” she said. “You were, at least. And if there’s one lesson I never managed to pierce through that snake’s skull, it’sthat life is aboutmorethan lessons. It’s about saying goodbye to friends when you leave the country. It’s about looking at a lost girl, far from home, wounded and in need of help, and thinking of how, just two years ago, you cast the same shadow.”
“You can’t condemn me tothis”—Silas lifted the bracelet—“out of a grudge that I didn’t say goodbye. That’s petty.”
Yvette looked far too smug. “I am not above pettiness. This is good for you, Silas. I feel it with every bone. And what a horror I condemn you to—take your head out of the books, out of the political bitterness, and spend some time with a beautiful young woman. Other young men wouldbegfor this opportunity.”
Silas hissed. She took him by the shoulder in a firm grip and turned him to face Eliza.
“Well, Your Highness, you are fortunate,” she said. “There is no better guide to Pravusat than a snake. Give it a week, and I’m sure my reliable student will find Henry. Once that’s done, come back, and I’ll see what I can do about breaking the Cast. That is, unless you fall madly in love and break it yourselves with a passionate kiss.”
She grinned as if such a thing was the most desirable outcome. As if it was evenpossible.
Eliza stared, her jaw slack, her brow furrowed. Silas waited for her protest; maybe if she broke down in tears again, she’d soften Yvette’s stubbornness.
But in the end, the princess didn’t cry. She shuffled closer to Yvette and whispered, “How can you ... trust him?” But not quietly enough for Silas not to hear.
He clenched his teeth. He looked down at the bracelet and considered taking a hammer to it. A broken wrist might be worth the subsequent freedom. Unfortunately, it was his writing hand.
Yvette said, “You seem like the kind of girl who understands a leap of faith. Take one now, Eliza. He won’t hurt you. He knows too much of hurt himself.”
Silas resisted the urge to fidget. Instead, he resolved to never ask Yvette for help again. He would find a way out of this situation on his own.
And it wouldnotinvolve kissing a reckless princess.
Eliza missed Yvette as soon as they left. She’d been gruff, but like a concerned aunt, and more than that, she’d been compassionate. After hearing Eliza’s story, she hadn’t insisted Henry was gone. She’d even said Silas could find him, and she’d seemed to really believe it.
Perhaps Eliza’s mistake with the Cast was not as world-shattering as she’d feared. If she couldn’t quite believe that yet, she could at leasthopeit.
As she and Silas emerged into the sunlight on campus, Eliza steeled herself for what needed to be said.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for ...thisto happen, so I’m sorry about that. But I’m not sorry to have your help, not if it means finding Henry.”
Silas hardly glanced at her.
Eliza tensed, trying not to think about how she’d seen snake scales on his skin while he’d argued with Yvette. The professor’s words echoed in her mind—He won’t hurt you—and she willed herself to believe it. Perhaps Silas was a ... mild shapeshifter. One who abandoned people to his fellow snakes but did not swallow them himself. In stories, some demons were tricksters rather than devourers.
This is not a story. The memory of her father’s voice cut through her imagination, making her flinch.Shapeshifters are real, Eliza, and they are monstrous.
The setting sun cast an orange glaze across the alabaster university buildings, reminding her of torchlight. Of a man-turned-eagle spilling innocent blood in the street.
