Serpent's Mark (Snakesblood Saga Book 1)

by Beth Alvarez

“It’s not that it’s worth anything.” Firal toyed with her skirt. The fabric had almost dried. “I was told it belonged to my mother. She left it for me, when she left me at the temple. It’s all I’ve got from my parents. I don’t want to lose it. This is my only chance to get it back before we leave for Ilmenhith tomorrow. I need it, so I can...well, I need it.”

  His brow furrowed with sympathy. “I understand. I have something sort of like that.”

  “Do you?”

  He nodded and touched his throat, though she saw nothing there. “An amulet, actually. For protection. I’ve had it since I was an infant. It’s a funny looking stone, sort of black and blue and iridescent inside.”

  “I’d like to see it sometime,” Firal said.

  The conversation fell into a lull and both of them were content to let it, though Firal grumbled to herself now and then about being trapped. Hail came in waves, rain never ceasing, though the sky darkened as the day crept on. The air grew cool and the stone was chill to sit on. Hours crawled by and her thoughts turned to the temple.

  The carriages from Ilmenhith would be arriving about now. Her friends would be packing for their trip. Departure was planned for afternoon. She’d have to rush to gather her things, though she’d be fine as long as she made it back to the temple before dawn. Her chance for retrieving her necklace was gone. All she could do was hope the court mages would speak to her. Without the evidence she so desperately needed to support her claims, she wasn’t sure they would.

  “I’m so tired,” she groaned finally, pacing at the foot of the stairs. The last light of the sun cast sickly green-gold hues through the clouds. “How long have we been waiting?”

  “Do you ever stop whining?” Ran raked his fingers through his tawny hair and frowned when she stiffened at his choice of words. “What?”

  She forced herself to shake her head. He was right; complaints came easy to the tip of her tongue, particularly when she grew weary. She couldn’t be upset with him for mirroring Daemon’s observation about the frequency of her complaints, no matter the bad memories that came with the thought of the Underling. “Nothing. I’m just getting tired, that’s all.”

  “It is getting late. I don’t think the storm will be letting up any time soon.” He removed his cloak, spread it on the floor, and stretched out on top of it. He wore a few pieces of armor underneath, but nothing remarkable. She wasn’t sure why he hadn’t wanted her to see it when she’d first walked into him. If he’d been raised by the king, it made sense for him to take such precautions when traveling. Particularly when traveling alone.

  “You could sleep, you know,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”

  “No, you won’t. You’ll just get up and leave me all alone in the ruins as soon as the rain lets up.” Though it was probably better that she return to the temple alone. After her friends’ teasing about rumors, emerging from the ruins alongside Ran was the last thing she wanted.

  Ran stifled a laugh. “You know me too well.”

  Firal fanned her own cloak out across the stone in mimicry of what he’d done. It was a good idea; at least it would take the edge off the cold. “It’s strange you think that,” she said. “After everything we’ve talked about, I’m starting to feel like you’re still a perfect stranger.”

  “Nobody is perfect,” he muttered with a hint of bitterness.

  She rolled over, wrapping herself in her cloak. “Don’t touch me while I’m sleeping.”

  He said nothing more. Peace washed over her as she succumbed to fatigue and drifted to sleep despite the cold, uncomfortable floor.

  11

  Plans and Preparation

  When the door banged open and Daemon stalked into the war room, only Tren looked surprised.

  “Temper, temper,” Lumia chided, lifting her gaze from the maps and papers strewn across the table to give Daemon a half smile. A handful of officers stood around the small room, but only Lumia and Tren leaned against the table. Whether they had been waiting for him or not, Daemon wasn’t sure.

  “Make it fast.” He didn’t mean to snap, but he wasn’t apologetic for the way the words came out. He joined his queen and the former general at the table. “Why did you call me?”

  “To go over plans, of course.” Lumia’s smile grew strained. “Though you’d be wise to mind your attitude. You were summoned, not requested.” She turned a map for him to see. It was little more than a drawing, a rough diagram of the temple and its surrounding outposts.

  He traced the lines with a clawed finger. “What is this?”

  “Kirban’s market. The next target for the raiding party.” Tren grinned in a way that was more animal than man, savage and unforgiving. “It should prove more fruitful than the last excursion.”

  Daemon’s eyes darted to Lumia, light flaring in their depths. “Attacking a village that close to the temple is suicide.”

  “Only when the temple is full of mages, my pet.” Her eyes narrowed. “Were you not the one who told me the mages would be traveling for the solstice? Unless you’ve been feeding me false information, I have no reason to think a raid on an unprotected landmark will be a problem.”

  “Unguarded being the key word. The king has stationed men at almost every other outpost near the ruins, blight him.” Tren leveled his gaze with Daemon. It was an unreadable expression and that made it unsettling. Surely the man didn’t think the increased security was his fault. Not when Tren had been the one to blunder the raid on Charth.

  Daemon stared back.

  Lumia finger-combed her pale curls, thoughtful. “Once this is complete, we should have a few more advantages against the king and his mages for the upcoming revolt.”

  “I don’t think overthrowing the Eldani king’s rule is going to be that easy,” Daemon said. “You don’t just raid a few villages and then take a throne.”

  Tren snorted. “No one asked for your opinion.”

  “You’ll just have to trust me on this one.” Lumia offered a smile so sweet it raised his hackles. “Besides, you aren’t even going to be there.”

  Daemon’s brow furrowed. “Where am I going to be?”

  Tren laughed humorlessly. “At the ball.”

  Daemon gave him a wary look.

  “He’s right.” Lumia paced around the table with her arms folded over her chest. “The celebration is for all citizens of the kingdom. The ruins fall almost completely on Eldani lands. That means we’re citizens as well, doesn’t it?” Her eyes glittered. “We need you there in case word makes it out of the market. You’ll be free to enjoy yourself, if you’re not required to take action. I trust that if word of the siege does reach the capital, you will do what you can to cause a distraction. It’s imperative to our plans that they continue to believe human raiders are at fault.”

  He grimaced behind his mask. Even disguised, sending him into a ballroom full of mages seemed rather like sending him into a pit of vipers and crossing fingers in hopes he’d escape. There were some mages he would never be able to fool.

  But Lumia was his queen, and she gave him no room to refuse.

  “I live to serve, my lady,” Daemon conceded, bowing his head.

  “Good of you to remember it.” She did not sound amused.

  “So Daemon keeps an eye on things in Ilmenhith, I watch the men, and you’ll handle whatever guards the king may have posted?” Tren paused and looked to Lumia for verification.

  The queen nodded and Daemon glanced at her, surprised. She never accompanied raids. Before he could ask why, Tren went on, rubbing his goatee and staring at the crude map. “Now that all of that is worked out, there’s the problem of the mage-barrier to address.”

  “Mage-barrier?” Daemon’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. “At the temple?”

  “The temple has artifacts in its possession that would aid us greatly. I’m certain you know of their Gate-stones?” Lumia raised a brow, but did not wait for his response. “Being able to open a Gate directly into the underground will make it easier to transport
goods. Since you’ll be elsewhere, we won’t have your Gift to rely on. A small sacrifice, but you’ll surely enjoy visiting the palace we mean to put you in.”

  Daemon chose to ignore the latter part. He leaned against the table, studying the distance between the temple and market. “You should have said something sooner. It would have been easier for me to enter the temple and take one of the stones myself.”

  “Perhaps,” Lumia agreed. “I admit I had not yet considered how much we would benefit from obtaining one. I don’t believe it will be impossible to claim one myself.”

  Ah, so that was why she was going on the raid. Daemon grunted softly. “The mage-barrier shouldn’t be a problem. If as many Masters are leaving the temple as it sounds, there won’t be enough of them present to hold the shield. It’s not anchored, and even the Archmage can’t support the barrier on her own.”

  “So they’re taking all of their defenses and dropping the only thing that might keep us out?” Tren asked.

  Lumia shrugged. “Considering they’ve spent years telling magelings that we’re nothing more than fairy tales, I doubt there’s any reason they would anticipate an attack within their territory. Now, Daemon, I trust your scouting has been thorough. Please tell us what you know of the temple’s layout and possible defenses on the Gate-stones. Once all that is out of the way, you may go back to your patrol.”

  He gritted his teeth at the word. Generals did not patrol, but they also didn’t argue with their queen. Especially when she gave orders. Daemon adjusted his mask and reached for one of the sticks of charcoal that lay at the edge of the map. “If my understanding is correct, there are storerooms of artifacts here and here. The Gate-stones, if there are any, may be in either. It’s also possible they’ll be stored somewhere in the Archmage’s tower.” Marking the map as he recounted what he knew, Daemon rolled the thought of the solstice ball over in his head. If it was a distraction they wanted, he had a feeling he’d provide it whether he wanted to or not.

  “I do believe we’re missing someone.”

  Marreli turned her head as Shymin peeked behind the door of the room the older girl shared with Kytenia. As crowded as the small dormitory rooms were when all five girls gathered there, it wasn’t unreasonable to think someone would be stuck behind the door. Marreli didn’t mind close quarters, but Firal’s absence made the room feel unusually spacious. She twisted the end of a braid in both hands.

  “You know, Firal didn’t attend dinner, either.” Concern colored Rikka’s voice, but she kept her face carefully serene. “She hasn’t seemed herself lately. I stopped by her room earlier to see if she was all right, but she wasn’t even there.”

  Marreli patted the empty space on Shymin’s bed beside her in invitation, then wiggled to the side to make more room when Shymin sat. She doubted their evening gatherings would be half as fun in the spacious dining hall. The room Kytenia and Shymin shared was always their first choice. With two occupants, there was guaranteed to be someone there when classes were not in session, which made it a perfect meeting place.

  “Do you think she went wandering again?” Marreli asked. “Maybe she just lost track of time.” Hope filled her words, but her spirits sank when Kytenia shook her head and said nothing.

  Kytenia sat on her own bed across the room, working to finish the hem of her gown while Rikka sat on the floor by her feet to stitch tiny beads to the neckline.

  “I can’t believe you still aren’t done with that thing.” Shymin draped her arms around Marreli’s shoulders. The smaller girl giggled and leaned into the hug. Shymin often seemed like the big sister she never had. With only elder brothers back home in Ilmenhith, Marreli was used to roughhousing. She appreciated the gentle affection.

  “I’m nearly done.” Kytenia knotted a thread and clipped it off before poking a new length through the eye of her needle. “As for Firal, I think we all know where she is. I don’t understand it, myself. it’s just a maze of rocks. I don’t see where the appeal comes from.”

  Rikka brushed her fiery hair away from her face. A strand caught at the corner of her mouth, accentuating her sly smirk before she tugged the hair free. “Ran has been absent for a few days, too. Perhaps they’ve run off together this time.”

  Marreli’s eyes widened. “Do you think so?”

  “Doubtful. Firal can’t stand him.” Shymin sighed and leaned back on her bed. She tugged Marreli’s hair before making herself comfortable. “Do you think Ran will be going to the ball? As often as he makes a spectacle of himself day-to-day, he always manages to avoid the big to-dos.”

  “I’m sure Kyt hopes he’s going. After all, how else will she get a dance with him?” Rikka smirked and then squeaked when Kytenia kicked her. “Hey!”

  “That’s not funny,” Kytenia growled. “I could get him to dance with me anywhere if I really wanted to.”

  Marreli bit her lip to stifle a laugh. Her fingers curled around the ends of both her braids and she tugged them in thought. “Shymin is probably right, I don’t think he’s too likely to go. But you never know, maybe he likes big royal galas.” She sighed dreamily. Ran certainly fit her idea of a prince; he was tall and dignified, with a powerful presence and brilliant smile. She could almost picture a crown on his head. “Maybe he’s a noble in disguise. I wonder what he’d be hiding from? Assassins out to get him so a relative can steal his fortune, or an evil witch trying to turn him into a frightful beast?”

  Shymin rolled her eyes. “An arranged marriage would be more likely, if that were the case. Honestly, Marreli, do you still believe in witches?”

  Marreli flushed and lowered her eyes. “Maybe just a little.” It wasn’t uncommon for the word to be flung around as a derogatory term for mages, though superstitions about them only existed among the Giftless humans. Still, watching the other girls, she understood why their Gifts might be mistaken for witchcraft. She was the youngest of the group and the weakest, as well. For all she understood of the complicated magics the other girls worked, they might as well have been witches.

  Though the notion of magic changing people to monsters was absurd, it didn’t keep her from wondering what would happen if it were possible. But magic didn’t work like that, as the Masters had made clear from the very beginning.

  “Either way,” Kytenia broke in, “I’m sure Firal’s just gone out for fresh air. She’ll be here when we leave tomorrow. She promised.” She didn’t look as confident as she sounded. A small wrinkle creased her brow, and doubtful looks crossed Rikka and Shymin’s faces.

  The stillness in the room began to feel awkward and Marreli squirmed.

  Kytenia cleared her throat before she spoke again. “Is everyone packed already? This blasted gown is the last thing I need, but it’s got to be finished before I can pack it.”

  “I think the rest of us just need to pick up our dresses in the market along the way. There’s not much to pack, otherwise. It’s a long trip, but we’ll only be in Ilmenhith for a few days,” Marreli said, a tinge of regret in her voice.

  No one echoed the sentiment, but she knew they shared it. Traveling to the capital city was an exceptional treat, considering how rarely magelings were afforded breaks long enough to travel. If they were fortunate, they’d have a chance to explore the city before the temple called them back.

  “How long until sundown?” Kytenia asked.

  Rikka jerked her head toward the shuttered windows. “A little late for that. It’s been dark for nearly an hour.”

  Kytenia gasped and thrust her sewing aside. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Was I supposed to? You looked busy.” Rikka pointed at the dress as it slid off the bed beside her. She held fast to the neckline, tiny beads still pinched between her fingers.

  Kytenia harrumphed and pushed herself to her feet. “I’m going to check Firal’s room, and if she’s not back yet, I’m going to go speak with Master Nondar.”

  “You shouldn’t!” Shymin sat bolt upright.

  “Why not?” The scowl on Kytenia�
��s face said she wouldn’t likely be deterred. “The last time she ran off, she came back saying she’d met a...a...well, you remember the nonsense she was spouting.”

  Marreli hoped it was nonsense, at least. The story had bothered her. A part of her hoped it was only a fevered dream, but she knew Firal wasn’t a liar. But whether Firal’s sudden streak of imagination was caused by injury or illness, the fact either could have befallen her in the ruins was enough to make a return trip concerning. Marreli swallowed against the sudden dryness of her mouth and joined Shymin’s protest. “The Masters wouldn’t take to it kindly. Especially if she’s out there with Ran, like Rikka said.”

  Rikka nodded. “Marreli’s right. You could get Firal into a world of trouble. She’s fortunate enough she didn’t get knocked down a rank after all the gossip about her sneaking out the last time.” She winced when she pricked her finger and sucked at it sullenly.

  “Well I would rather her be in trouble with the Masters, and perhaps lose a few privileges, than have her be in trouble out where we can’t find her.” Kytenia tucked her chin into her chest as she spoke. She picked loose bits of thread off her skirt and cast them to the floor, but Marreli caught the fearful tremble in her fingers.

  “I think you’re worrying too much,” Shymin sighed.

  Kytenia flipped her hair back with a toss of her head. “Then call me a worrier and be done with it. I’ll still speak to Nondar.”

  Rikka opened her mouth as if to argue, but a stern look from Shymin kept her silent as Kytenia stomped out of the room and left the door wide open. Marreli winced and looked at her toes. They sat quiet for a long time.

  “Well, hurry up, Rikka,” Shymin said at last, reaching across the space between beds to nudge her friend with her foot. “I still have packing to do and I won’t get much of it done with the two of you hanging about in my room.”

  Rikka yelped when the gentle prodding made her prick her finger again.