Page 74 of Sonnets and Serpents
“Of course you’d choose the one area I’m not knowledgeable in.”
“That’s not true—you’re also unskilled in sailing, or so I’ve been told. Otherwise you would have already sailed me home.” They shared a brief smile, and then Eliza furrowed her brow. “Do snakes carry an aversion to water?”
“Once again, I’m notactuallya snake. We share some attributes through a magical bond, that’s all. And as a matter of fact, snakes enjoy water more than I do. Some even live in it.”
Eliza scoffed. “‘Some attributes, that’s all.’ You can transformintoa snake. You have venom. You ... you can even talk to them!”
“Nothing as entertaining as this conversation.” Silas smirked. “I can give commands, if I’m strong enough, and they give impressions in return. It’s magic and sensory input, not rational thought and language. Though I do sometimes use language to direct my own focus. I find it helps.”
His smirk was contagious, but Eliza resisted. Instead, she eyed him, making a show of squinting. “What other abilities do you have, Snake Affiliate? Is your skin going to peel off without warning? Do you leave Silas husks behind?”
As she’d hoped, he laughed. He had a higher-pitched laugh than his voice, and it was always short, like it could only be startled out of him. It was delightful.
“No,” he said. “No, my skin doesn’t ... In fact, even as a viper, I can’t shed. Kerem has done extensive experimentation, and even when he remained in snake form for months, he couldn’t shed. We don’t grow or sustain damage the same way as natural snakes.”
There was a small—very small—part of her that wondered what it would feel like to be something else entirely. To be full of magic that wasn’t a curse.
She smiled. “Do you stick your tongue out all the time? Do you like warm rocks?”
“Who doesn’t like warm rocks?” Silas stuck his tongue out at her.
It was Eliza’s turn for a laugh, and in return, Silas grinned. She was always surprised to see that the venomous snake had a fun, playful side.
He could be charming sometimes. Perhaps more often than she’d like to admit.
A shout went up nearby, and Eliza jumped. Silas tensed, but he kept his eyes on hers and gave a subtle nod. Neither of them ran as a set of kuveti guards rushed in to surround them. It hadonly been a pair grabbing Eliza the first time, but this time, there were six guards. Her panic spiked.
Silas brushed her shoulder again gently, and then he turned his attention to the kuveti, shouting at them in Pravish. He took a swing at the closest guard, who caught his arm and declared the arrest for both of them. Eliza was designated, once again, as the “missing island princess.” It was humbling to realize that Pravusat didn’t think of her home country as anything more than an insignificant island.
She could only hope the promise of a royal ransom would keep them from thinking of her as insignificant too. Otherwise, she didn’t look forward to what awaited her in prison.
From the moment the kuveti approached, Silas was careful not to use any magic. He’d warned Eliza about the possibility of magic-suppressing manacles, but he hadn’t mentioned his concern that the ocean-eyed girl with her box was somehow one step ahead of him, lying in wait. Nor had he mentioned his deeper fear that he’d end today without any magic at all.
This was the third-worst day of his life. Second-worst, actually, because the reckless princess wasn’t as bad as he’d first thought. He still couldn’t believe she was accompanying him to prison, all for the slimmest chance she could save the boy she loved.
Maybe it was actually love. Maybe, amid all the recklessness that wasundeniablyrecklessness, she was also the bravest person Silas had ever met. Crossing oceans, facing foreign lands, suffering capture—all for someone else.
Maybe the reason he liked to believe love didn’t exist was because he was too selfish and cautious to ever brave something like that.
Or maybe he was feeling sentimental because he was beingdragged to prison and didn’t know if he’d come back out. At least not as himself.
The portcullis closed behind them with iron finality.
Eliza stumbled along with her head down, but Silas swept his gaze over everything, overlaying the real features he observed with the map layout he’d studied, looking for anything that didn’t fit. Any oddity at all. He saw kuveti in their gray suits and black veils, and as they passed one room, he caught a glimpse of a few men in gold armor—part of the Nephew King’s royal guard.
In a room filled with chests lining the wall, the guards gave them both a rough search. For Eliza’s sake, Silas had tried to conceal his lockpicks well, but not well enough. A guard tossed them in a chest, along with the small dagger Eliza had insisted on bringing. She’d left her book of sonnets at the university, so at least that wasn’t lost. It would have been a shame to waste a book on the kuveti.
“What do you do with prisoners?” Silas demanded of the guard on his right.
“Depends on the prisoner,” the man responded, his eyes narrowing from behind his veil. Even without seeing the rest of the man’s face, Silas could read the leer. The guard leaned in slightly and added, “If you’d like to avoid any unpleasantness, honored prisoner, you can always negotiate.”
Silas didn’t have the money for that—which they already knew from his lack of purse—and when it became apparent he wasn’t going to make an offer, the guard huffed, tightened his hold, and resumed a silent march.
Eventually, they reached dividing hallways, and the guards attempted to drag Eliza down the right fork and Silas down the left.
“Careful—” Silas warned.
Both guard groups got yanked along with the prisoners.
