Her mother isn’t wearing jewelry. She’s wearing snakes.
On her wrists, around her neck. Thin, black, and moving slowly, their scales gleaming like spilled oil. Equal parts fear and disgust jolt through me. Suddenly I want to sprint to my room, lock the door, and put as much distance as I can between myself and the wriggling creatures. Instead, they get closer with her every footstep. And I thought Evangeline was bad.
“Lord Volo; his wife, Larentia of House Viper; their son, Ptolemus; and their daughter, Evangeline. Well-regarded and valuable members of my court,” Maven explains, gesturing to each in turn. He smiles openly, showing teeth.
“I’m sorry we were not able to properly meet you sooner.” Volo steps forward to take Iris’s outstretched hand. With his silver beard freshly trimmed, it’s easy to see the resemblance between him and his children. Strong bones, elegant lines, long noses, and lips permanently curled into a sneer. His skin looks paler against Iris’s as he brushes a kiss to her bare knuckles. “We were called away to attend matters in our own lands.”
Iris dips her brow. A picture of grace now. “No apology is required, my lord.”
Over their clasped hands, Maven catches my eye. He quirks an eyebrow in amusement. If I could, I would ask him what he promised—or what he threatened House Samos with. Two Calore kings have slipped through their fingers. So much scheming and plotting, for nothing. I know Evangeline didn’t love Maven, or even like him, but she was raised to be a queen. Her purpose was stolen twice. She failed herself and, worse, failed her house. At least now she has someone other than me to blame.
Evangeline glances in my direction, her lashes dark and long. They flutter for a moment as her eyes waver, ticking back and forth like the pendulum of an old clock. I take a small step away from Iris to put some distance between us. Now that the Samos daughter has a new rival to hate, I don’t want to give her the wrong impression.
“And you were betrothed to the king?” Iris pulls her hand back from Volo and knits her fingers together. Evangeline’s eyes move away from me to face the princess. For once, I see her on an even field with an equal opponent. Maybe I’ll get lucky and Evangeline will misstep, threaten Iris the way she used to threaten me. I have a feeling Iris won’t tolerate a word of it.
“For a time, yes,” Evangeline says. “And his brother before him.”
The princess is not surprised. I assume the Lakelands are well informed of the Nortan royals. “Well, I’m glad you’ve returned to court. We will require a good amount of help in organizing our wedding.”
I bite my lip so hard I almost draw blood. Better that than laughing out loud as Iris pours salt into so many Samos wounds. Across from me, Maven turns his head to hide a sneer.
One of the snakes hisses, a low, droning sound impossible to mistake. But Larentia quickly curtsies, sweeping out the fabric of her shimmering gown.
“We are at your disposal, Your Highness,” she says. Her voice is deep, rich as syrup. As we watch, the thickest snake, around her neck, nuzzles up past her ear and into her hair. Revolting. “It would be an honor to aid you however we can.” I half expect her to elbow Evangeline into agreeing. Instead, the Viper woman turns her attention on me, so quickly I don’t have time to look away. “Is there a reason the prisoner is staring at me?”
“None,” I respond, teeth clicking together.
Larentia takes my eye contact as a challenge. Like an animal. She steps forward, closing the distance between us. We’re the same height. The snake in her hair continues hissing, coiling and twisting down onto her collarbone. Its jewel-bright eyes meet mine, and its forked black tongue licks the air, darting out between long fangs. Even though I stand my ground, I can’t help but swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. The snake keeps watching me.
“They say you are different,” Larentia mutters. “But your fear smells the same as that of every vile Red rat I’ve ever had the misfortune to know.”
Red rat. Red rat.
I’ve heard that so many times. Thought it about myself. From her lips, it cracks something in me. The control I’ve worked so hard to maintain, that I must keep if I want to stay alive, threatens to unravel. I take a dragging breath, willing myself to keep still. Her snakes continue hissing, curling over one another in black tangles of scale and spine. Some are long enough to reach me if she wills it so.
Maven sighs low in his throat. “Guards, I think it’s time Miss Barrow was returned to her room.”
I spin on my heel before the Arvens can jump to my side, retreating into the so-called safety of their presence. Something about the snakes, I tell myself. I couldn’t stand them. No wonder Evangeline is horrific, with a mother like that to raise her.
As I flee back to my rooms, I’m seized by an unwelcome sensation. Relief. Gratitude. To Maven.
I crush that vile burst of emotion with all the rage I have. Maven is a monster. I feel nothing but hatred toward him. I cannot allow anything else, even pity, to creep in.
I MUST ESCAPE.
Two long months pass.
Maven’s wedding will be ten times the production that the Parting Ball, or even Queenstrial, was. Silver nobles flood back into the capital, bringing entourages with them from all corners of Norta. Even the ones the king exiled. Maven feels safe enough in his new alliance to allow even smiling enemies through his door. Though most have city houses of their own, many take up residence in Whitefire, until the palace itself seems ready to burst at the seams. I’m kept to my room mostly. I don’t mind. It’s better this way. But even from my cell, I can feel the impending storm of a wedding. The tangible union of Norta and the Lakelands.