by Beth Alvarez
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to real people or events is entirely coincidental.
SERPENT’S BLOOD
Copyright © 2021 by Beth Alvarez
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Beth Alvarez
Edited by Amanda Dimer Silva
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Edition: May 2021
ISBN-13: 978-1-952145-14-8
Serpent’s Blood
Book Six of the Snakesblood Saga
Beth Alvarez
Contents
1. A Meeting of Mages
2. Allies
3. An Obstacle to Progress
4. Gentle Education
5. The Mages of Umdal
6. Old Flames
7. New Strategy
8. A Gathering Army
9. Keeping Appearances
10. Guardian’s Duty
11. A Clean Slate
12. A War Begins
13. Ballads
14. A Time for Action
15. Turning Points
16. Missing Pieces
17. A Time for War
18. Trade
19. Oaths
20. Guilt
21. Rescue
22. Promise
23. All Things End
24. The Collapse
25. Awakening
26. One Last Duty
27. Heroes
28. Closure
29. A New Home
30. New Dreams
Author’s note
About the Author
Books by Beth Alvarez
1
A Meeting of Mages
In all the years Elenhiise had been allied with the Triad, Firal had never spent more than a handful of minutes with King Vicamros. They had always communicated primarily through dignitaries and messengers. Few circumstances had been important enough to demand they meet. To walk into his palace and demand asylum seemed arrogant, despite the strength of their political bond.
Firal smoothed the front of her dress and examined herself in the mirror again. The green gown was simple, but it fit well enough. There wouldn’t be time to find anything better before they met with Vicamros, so it would have to do. She tucked stray ebony curls behind her pointed ears one last time and turned away. She didn’t want to think about why there was such an assortment of women’s clothing in the manor.
Truthfully, Firal did not want to be in the manor, herself. It had been more intimidating than welcoming when they’d arrived that morning, seeking refuge. That was before she knew who the estate belonged to.
After the harrowing days behind them, she hadn’t expected Rune would want to protect her. She still wasn’t certain why he had. Instinct, she thought, though the fact he had rescued every mage in the throne room and not only her indicated some conscious effort went into it.
Still, he could have taken them anywhere and it would have been more comfortable than dumping them into his private home.
The room she occupied was as finely furnished as the rest of the house, decorated in pale blues and greens that didn’t suit Rune’s personality at all. There was time to enjoy the comfort of the chairs and plush bed before her meeting with Vicamros had to take place, but she was too restless to sit.
Instead she folded her discarded gown and left it on the foot of the bed, then emptied the dirty water from the washbasin into the wooden pail beside the washstand. She considered tossing the water out the window, but she didn’t see any way to open the pretty diamond-paned glass, so she carried the pail with her into the hall instead. It was small, menial, but Firal had grown desperate for distractions in the wake of everything that had unfolded that morning.
Ordin Straes, her Captain of the Guard, waited outside. He fell in step behind her without a word. She pretended not to notice, studying her surroundings as they walked.
She hadn’t seen any serving staff, or any sign of a staff’s existence. Now that she looked closer, tangled cobwebs hid in the corners, and the fine decorations sported a light coating of dust.
Aside from Ordin, Firal didn’t encounter anyone else on the way down to the main floor, though she heard the mages in the parlor murmuring as they prepared for departure. Everyone had agreed it was best that they meet with the Triad’s Archmage before Firal met with King Vicamros, but she almost wished she could go with them. It would be easier to face the foreign Archmage than to appear before an ally and explain how she’d lost her kingdom in the span of a heartbeat.
She paused at the front door and stepped outside to empty the pail. Her eyes drifted down the quiet lane as she set it aside to dry. She’d fetch it later. Or perhaps she’d forget and it would sit there collecting dust, like the treasures in the hallways.
“You may take a rest, Captain.” Firal tried to sound as coolly dismissive as she had in the past, like a queen ought to when giving an order to her subject. Instead her voice cracked and Ordin looked at her in concern.
“Are you certain, Majesty?”
She nodded. “You may sit in the parlor, if you wish. I will be in the kitchen.”
“If you’re hungry, I can—”
Firal raised a hand to silence him. “If I have need of you, I will let you know.”
Ordin frowned, but nodded and let her continue through the parlor alone.
The soft, rhythmic clack of a knife led her to the kitchen on the south end of the house.
Rhyllyn stood at the counter, humming to himself as he chopped vegetables. He worked alone. What with the lack of servants, she hadn’t expected anything else.
Only a few hours before, the youth’s existence had been shocking. Firal refused to blame herself for her assumptions, though. His olive-scaled hands and snake-slitted eyes gave him a strong enough resemblance to Rune that anyone would assume them related by more than the taint in their magic.
Mindful to walk a little louder, Firal joined him. “Can I help you?”
The boy blinked at her, surprised. “You’re a guest. You don’t have to do anything.”
She tried to smile. “What if I want to?”
He hesitated, then returned her smile and offered his knife by the handle. When she took it, he retrieved another for himself from the knife block an arm’s reach away.
Firal hadn’t done more than set foot in a kitchen since her coronation. The knife felt awkward in her hand, but she was grateful to have something to distract her. She took pains to ensure the slices she cut were uniform, biting her lower lip as she worked. It was a blissful distraction.
Rhyllyn watched her as he took another carrot from the basket beside him. He finished cutting it before she’d done more than a quarter of her own carrot. “So, you’re a queen, huh?”
She laughed weakly. “It shows, doesn’t it? I can’t even cut vegetables anymore.”
He flushed. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s all right. It’s been a while since I’ve done anything like this, that’s all.” She chopped slowly, mindful not to catch her fingers. “It’s been a long time since I did anything for myself, really. I wanted to, when I was first crowned. I was used to being self-sufficient. I didn’t like people doing anything for me.”
Rhyllyn nodded. “I understand. I felt the same way right after I changed. It was hard, learning to use my hands all over again, but I didn’t like people babying me, either.”
<
br /> Firal glanced at his four-fingered hands. They certainly didn’t trouble him now. He was deft with his fingers, unhindered by his claws. “He said they made you, but I assumed it was something more like the way they made him. Rune, I mean.” She ducked her head. “So you weren’t born that way?”
“No. I used to be human, actually.” He flashed her a grin. His blue eyes sparkled with an unexpected mirth. “I was young when they took me. I don’t remember much of it, just the before and after. Alira says it’s better that I don’t.”
She pursed her lips to keep from frowning. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
“What?”
“Being... changed.” Firal tried not to shiver at the word. Until Envesi had appeared before her, she hadn’t believed it possible. Now she stood beside proof for the second time in a single day.
“Oh, that.” Rhyllyn laughed and went back to chopping. “No. Actually, being changed into whatever I am is the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Her knife cracked against the wooden cutting board as if in exclamation. “How can you say that?” The words escaped before she could stop them. She cringed when he looked at her, but he only seemed amused.
“Well, I know it seems odd to you. I know Rune’s never been happy with himself. That’s why he was always traveling, looking for the Alda’anan after they disappeared. Hoping they could fix him. But for me, changing was a gift. For one, I’m a mage now. I don’t think the magic was strong enough in me to develop on its own, but now it has. The college and embassies are like a second home, and I’ve learned so much.”
“Are you a mageling?” she asked. If he were, she couldn’t imagine him being allowed to stray so far from an embassy.
“Well, not exactly. They teach me other things. I can read now, and write, and play a dozen instruments because the college bards will teach me. But all that aside, there were still benefits. After all, I’m somebody now.” He shifted, and his grin turned sheepish. “I lived on the streets before I changed. Not an orphan, but my uncle abandoned me, so there was little difference. I probably would have frozen to death that winter. Instead, I became what I am and received a new family. And when his brother is the famous Champion of the Royal City Arena, it’s easy for a strange boy to find friends.”
She tried to focus on her work instead of staring at him. It was strange; to a boy with nothing, his condition was a blessing. But for Rune, a man with everything, it had always been a curse. “Arena?” she repeated at last.
Rhyllyn put his knife aside and scooped cut vegetables into a pot to clear their workspace for more. “You haven’t heard of it? I’m sorry, I thought with the alliance and everything...” He trailed off and shook his head. “The Arena is where they take criminals for execution. Nobles face them in armed combat. It’s a battle to the death, but since most prisoners have never so much as touched a sword, there’s usually not much of a fight.”
Her stomach turned. It was not her place to judge the justice of other countries, but such a practice was nothing short of barbaric. “He participates in that?”
“Well, no, not anymore. We don’t go often, usually only when council is called, and then only to see the other councilors. He hasn’t fought in a long time. Not since I’ve been old enough to watch, anyway. I wish I could have seen him fight. I hear he was amazing.” Admiration filled his voice.
Firal tried to hide her disgust. “I suppose he must have been, to gain a title like that.”
The boy beamed. “To this day, he’s still the only prisoner to have won and been granted pardon.”
Unexpected relief flooded over her, followed by burning embarrassment. She’d not even considered he could have been anything other than one of the nobles participating in the slaughter.
“Anyway,” Rhyllyn went on, “it’s not like there aren’t challenges. It’s harder to do some things with claws, I guess, though I find workarounds. I think the most difficult part is that I didn’t grow up like everyone else.”
That, at least, Firal understood. It had never been her struggle, but her dearest friend came from a family where not all children were Gifted. With how magic prolonged the life of its wielder, she’d often wondered how Kytenia would cope with the passing of her Giftless siblings. “The Eldani grow slowly from birth,” she said slowly. “I suppose if your magic wasn’t strong enough to manifest on its own, you didn’t experience that.”
“Nope. I was just like every other kid. And for a while, it stayed that way, but as I got older, it just sort of ground to a halt.” He paused to inspect a potato. The dark spot on one end made him crinkle his nose. He sliced it off. “That part was hard, I won’t lie. All my friends got to grow up, and I didn’t. I mean, I obviously didn’t stay a child, but I definitely haven’t made much progress compared to them. And let me tell you, having your voice breaking during singing lessons for eight years isn’t much fun.”
She snorted a laugh.
Evidently, that was what he’d hoped for, because he flashed her a grin. “Anyhow, I didn’t mean to take over the whole conversation. I’m sorry. You wanted to talk about something, right? I find it hard to imagine a queen would want to chop vegetables otherwise.”
“I think I just want a distraction.” She reached past him to take a turnip from the basket. “I’ve not had the most pleasant day.” The understatement was so great it made her want to cry.
He grew solemn. “I understand. I wasn’t trying to listen to you and Rune, but—”
“Yes, Ordin already told me.” Firal stifled a sigh. “We do not always fight, by the way. There are occasionally times we agree on things. Or there were, anyway. These days, we seem to be like oil and water.”
Rhyllyn snorted. “You’re not oil and water. You’re more like those chemicals the scholars keep. The ones that explode when you mix them.”
Firal cringed.
“There you are.” Kytenia appeared in the doorway, her hands on her hips. She looked more the part of Archmage than she had after their arrival. What she now wore must have been one of Alira’s robes, stark white and an acceptable fit, though the sleeves were a little short. “We need you. We’re about to leave.”
Firal put down her knife and wiped her hands on a rag. “Excuse me, Rhyllyn.”
“Both of you,” Kytenia said.
Firal raised a brow.
Rhyllyn cleaned his hands as well, unsurprised. He covered the pot of vegetables and followed Firal and Kytenia to the doorway. The three of them returned to the parlor where the other mages waited.
“We’ve decided it best to be clear and forthcoming with Arrick about the situation,” Alira said the moment they stepped in.
Finding Alira in Rune’s home had been another shock, perhaps worse than Rhyllyn’s presence. The Master mage had been an exile and a villain, as far as Firal was concerned. But Rune and his companions seemed to trust her, and the mages who had come from Elenhiise seemed to have accepted her after relatively little conversation. Who was Firal to disagree? She was a queen without a kingdom.
With that sullen thought in mind, she seated herself on one of the couches. Rhyllyn stayed beside the door.
“I’m not sure what King Vicamros will say,” Kytenia said. Across the room, Rikka and Temar, two more of Firal’s most trusted Master mages, made room for her to sit. Kytenia sank to the couch between them without a second look. “However, I do think taking action is within our jurisdiction as mages, regardless of which crowns we serve. We will begin an effort to summon mages to assist our cause immediately. Hopefully Arrick will be cooperative, though I wouldn’t be surprised if he wishes to wait for permission from Vicamros. He tends to tread carefully.”
“If all goes according to plan,” Alira said as if their speech were already well-rehearsed, “they will begin gathering forces in the Grand College. Assuming they can get any of our mages out of Ilmenhith.”
“Don’t try if it seems too risky,” Firal said. “Don’t forget we sent Envesi to the college. She can reach us the
re as easily as if we were still on Elenhiise.”
Kytenia nodded. “We will exercise caution. In the meantime, we will also begin closing the permanent Gates, starting with the one in the palace, though I am not certain how quickly that can be done.” She grimaced, an expression mirrored by the other women. Opening the Gates had taken days. Closing them might take just as long. “As soon as we’re able, we’ll send someone to join you in the Royal City. I doubt it will be me, but perhaps Temar or Rikka.”
Firal’s eyes flicked toward Anaide, who sat on her own, huddled in one of the chairs. The Master of Water was the only one of the Elenhiise mages who had not seemed to recover from the morning’s events. She was also the only mage who still seemed unwilling to accept Alira’s presence.
Kytenia followed Firal’s gaze. “Anaide will stay with me, of course. I will need her expert assistance in organizing our mages.”
“Of course,” Firal said, as if the explanation made perfect sense. Truthfully, she was relieved she wouldn’t have to worry about the woman. She had her hands full enough already.
“What if she’s already in the college?” Rune asked from the doorway. He reminded Firal of a grumpy house cat, the way he prowled the halls and lurked just outside of conversations. She glowered in his direction, but he stared back, unfazed. The frigid intensity in his snakelike eyes still gave her chills.
“She won’t be,” Alira said.
“What makes you so sure?” Rune challenged. “She’s taken an entire nation today, and it’s barely noon.”
