Page 40 of Sonnets and Serpents
Smugly, Eliza gave him a shallow bow of thanks, and Silas muttered something under his breath.
Just no snake bones, she thought. She didn’t know how to say that in Pravish, so the best she could do was offer it as a silent prayer.
The professor put away the bones and other disgusting materials, which was a relief. Then, rolling back his sleeves, he asked, “Have you ever milked a snake?”
Eliza didn’t like the sound of that at all. The look on Silas’s face said he clearly expected her to run, and the thought of being a coward in his eyes irked her. She wasn’t a coward.Apta, maybe, but she would rather be known for foolish actions than for retreat.
She licked her lips, managing to string a few words. “Snakes ... have ... milk?”
Kerem flicked his hand. “No, no, snakelets fend for themselves from birth. ‘Milking’ is a term used for venom extraction.”
She cast a side glance toward the enclosure holding Ether, where the white snake moved restlessly along the rocks. Silas had sworn the creature didn’t possess venom.
Following her gaze, Kerem shook his head. “Not her. I need a venom collection from Silas.”
Eliza froze. Meanwhile, Kerem stepped past her to the shelves,gathering supplies. Silas remained by the desk, avoiding her gaze, focused on combing his unruly hair back. After she stared long enough, though, his dark eyes finally met hers, narrowing in distaste. Or possibly challenge.
“You get milked?” she blurted in Loegrian.
She was certain he blushed. Though his darker skin concealed it better than hers, he looked rosy along the ears, and the way his posture stiffened certainly spoke to embarrassment. She bit her lip, finding the response cute even if the subject was the strangest she’d ever broached.
“You can leave,” he said, more threat than invitation.
Eliza should have. She should have hidden right outside the door, out of reach of any snake fangs, especially the venomous set belonging to the shapeshifter in front of her. But, honestly, with his blushing ears, he didn’t seem as much of a threat.
Besides that, his voice from earlier haunted her.She’s terrified of snakes.
This country seemed determined to continue throwing them at her, perhaps because it thought she would abandon her purpose and flee. Perhaps because it thought she was just blown bywhims.
Let it watch, then. Eliza could conquer terror and anything else.
Mimicking Kerem, she unbuttoned her silk cuffs and rolled back her shirt sleeves. She planted her hands on her hips and said, “I’m not afraid of you.”
The brave image was ruined by Kerem startling her from behind as he said, “Hold this vial.”
The container’s opening had been covered by a thinly woven sheet of linen tied securely at the neck. Eliza breathed calmly to keep her fingers steady around the glass.
“To prevent spills,” said Kerem, indicating the linen, “and avoid venom on skin.”
Eliza frowned. Surely it wouldn’t hurt him if he was also a snake. She struggled to put that to words. “Snake can’t ... pain you. Right?”
He raised his eyebrows, and the round, wire frames of his spectacles exaggerated the disbelief.
“Is this snakeskin?” he asked, opening and closing one hand, displaying his long brown fingers. “Blood will bleed, and tissue will rot, even with magic beneath. Magic is a powerful weapon, not a shield against all ills. Ready, Silas?”
In answer, Silas gave a surly grunt. His eyes darted to Eliza, then away. She tensed, expecting them to be red viper eyes, but they were his usual deep brown. She was almost surprised when he vanished in a puff of vapor.
The gray snake with a string of black diamonds down its back looked like an ordinary—if deadly—animal, and Eliza’s throat filled with questions that she held clenched behind her teeth. Was he still aware as a snake? Could he communicate? Could he control himself?
Reaching down, Kerem lifted the viper like it was nothing more than a fallen scarf. The reptile twisted around his arm.
He stared at her expectantly.
“If you’re too fearful,” he said, “set the vial on the desk and step away.”
She looked down and found her hand shaking. Images of Daisy rose in her mind, joined by the echo of the pony’s terrified scream mingling with Eliza’s own. She forced the memories back down.
She was not afraid. She wouldnotbe afraid.
