Serpent's Crown (Snakesblood Saga Book 5)

by Beth Alvarez

  “What reason would he have to aid us?” Temar asked.

  Rune locked eyes with Firal, a cool intensity in his gaze. “I had reason enough.”

  Heat rose in her ears and she turned away.

  There had been a time when every subtle shift in his posture or expression revealed his thoughts or feelings. Now when she looked at him and found herself caught in those violet eyes, she saw nothing. It bothered her more than it should.

  Now and then she caught flickers of feeling, hints that there was still something familiar buried behind the barrier of ice that had grown during their separation. Then he looked at her like that, and though there was clarity and focus in his gaze, she saw nothing else. No heat, no passion, not even anger. As if he’d become nothing more than an empty vessel, moving and speaking with no hint of a soul inside.

  For an instant, when she'd seen how placid and regal he looked as he sat swathed in Ilmenhith's colors with a crown on his brow, she'd regretted the way she’d spoken to him the night before. Now, just as quickly, she thought her words true again. With eyes that cold, how could he be anything but a monster?

  “So, what do we do next?” Kytenia asked softly. Her voice was calm, though she had to be anything but. They'd only just begun to discuss how they'd regain the temple. Then they'd lost the whole island. “Does anyone have any suggestions? Some sort of plan?”

  “We’ll need to speak with Archmage Arrick as soon as possible.” Rune reclined in his seat, swirling the contents of his cup. He took another sip and pulled a face. Water, no doubt. “The permanent Gates to Ilmenhith will need to be closed, and we’ll need to have the college mages summoned from their embassies.”

  “That could take weeks,” Garam said.

  Rune shrugged. “Then we’d better hurry.”

  “Someone will need to speak to King Vicamros, as well.” Alira started to say more, but closed her mouth instead. She took the water pitcher from the table and looked for cups to refill, though everyone had only just gotten their drinks. Firal cocked her head, curious what the woman had intended to say.

  Garam nodded. “Might as well be us. He’ll know it’s serious if it’s coming from two members of council.”

  “Three,” Rune said, “along with an allied queen. This is her fight more than it is ours.”

  “Until it lands on our doorstep,” Garam muttered.

  “You’re a member of the king’s council, too?” Rikka asked.

  “It took years for Cam to convince him.” Rhyllyn grinned.

  The mages looked at him with varying expressions of surprise. Rhyllyn bowed his head and coughed politely. “We were friends,” he murmured. “When we were younger, I mean.”

  Garam gave him a stern frown. “I don't know if taking Rune straight back to the Royal City is the best idea.”

  Alira spread her hands and heaved a helpless sigh. “I don't see what choice we have. We can send someone ahead and clear the Gating parlor within the palace so that no one sees him, but you know how fast word will escape.”

  “Hard to say what that'll do.” Garam rubbed his beard and stared at Rune, thoughtful.

  “But it doesn't change that we need speed,” Rune insisted.

  “We’d best divide our efforts, then,” Kytenia said. “We mages can speak with Arrick and get things underway there. The rest of you will go speak with King Vicamros.”

  “Are there enough of you present to open a Gate without Alira’s help?” Firal didn’t want to rely on the woman so soon, but as worn and frazzled as they already were, she couldn’t imagine the six Elenhiise mages and herself were strong enough to manage on their own. Though they were court mages, Kella and Asula were not remarkably powerful. Firal herself was no better, technically only a mageling.

  “We’ll Gate you there,” Rhyllyn volunteered. “We can manage on our own.”

  Firal eyed him suspiciously. She’d felt the wild note in the boy’s presence, but he was young. In the temple, mages weren’t taught how to bend the flows to open Gates on their own until they were ready to graduate to Master, though they were allowed to contribute before then. Even if Rhyllyn were as powerful as Rune had been before whatever ill fate ruined his magic, he couldn’t be old enough to do that yet. Firal herself had been a special exception. Being queen, she'd been able to order the court mages to teach her what she wanted to know.

  Rune nodded. “We’ll take care of the Gates. Once you’re in the college, you’ll have hundreds more mages to help you get to the Royal City to join us. We’ll plan to meet there for a formal council session, after we’ve had a chance to speak to Vicamros.”

  “How long will it take?” Firal asked bleakly. Every moment she was away from Elenhiise was torture.

  “A few days, most likely,” Garam said. “Even with Gates and messengers to hop through them, it'll take time to get word to the people who need to hear it.”

  The words cut like a knife. Firal slouched in her seat as the burden of despair settled over her shoulders.

  “It's likely for the best,” Alira said. “I can't imagine anyone wants to appear before Archmages and kings as we are. Except maybe you.” Her blue eyes darted toward Rune.

  He glowered back.

  The mage continued, unruffled. “And it seems you've traveled enough, this morning. A short rest is best for everyone. We may have spare clothing upstairs. If our guests would like to come with me, I’ll show them where the bath is and let them freshen up before we depart.”

  “That sounds magnificent.” Kytenia’s shoulders slumped with relief. She'd looked pristine in the white robe the court mages had provided for her when they landed, but even that was grimy after their trek through the woods.

  Kella looked pleased at the offer and shared a quiet murmur with Asula before the pair of them stood. The two mages had been near silent, waiting and observing. Firal had never noticed how invisible the court mages made themselves in her presence. Now she felt a small stirring of embarrassment and guilt. These women had been in her service for decades. How could she know so little about them?

  Shaking the thought from her head, Firal turned her eyes to Kytenia and cleared her throat. “I will stay here until the rest of you are settled.”

  Her friends gave her curious looks, but she ignored them.

  “Very well,” Kytenia said. She stood and Alira led her out of the parlor. The other mages were quick to follow.

  “There’s more than one bath if you want to get ready, Your Majesty.” A patronizing tone colored Rune’s words.

  Firal shot him an icy look.

  Rhyllyn's eyes darted between the two of them and he jumped to his feet. “I’ll go pack.”

  Garam didn’t even bother with an excuse; he simply removed himself from the parlor.

  Ordin hesitated beside the couch.

  “Leave us,” Firal ordered.

  The captain grimaced, but obeyed and made his way to the front door.

  In the silence, she heard the steady ticking of a clock.

  “You’re welcome,” Rune said. He poured his water into an abandoned cup and refilled his with wine.

  Her brow furrowed. “For what?”

  “The part where I saved your life.”

  “I didn’t thank you.”

  “I know.”

  Falling quiet, Firal studied her cup. It was fine silver, another piece of an impressive life he'd cobbled together with the scraps she'd handed him. A landowner and lord, a councilor and politician, wealthy and apparently loved by the Triad’s people—or respected, at the very least. His accomplishments made her uncomfortable, though she couldn't put a finger on why.

  She drank, but the water did nothing for the dryness of her mouth. “How old is your son?”

  Rune choked on his wine and covered his mouth. Dark droplets fell from his chin, hit the carpet and hovered on its surface for long seconds before they soaked in. He coughed and cleared his airway with a grimace.

  Firal stared without flinching.

  Scowling
, he wiped his chin with the back of his hand. “He’s not my son.”

  That was not the response she'd expected. Her ears reddened and heat seeped into her cheeks.

  “My brother,” he added as explanation. He coughed again and had to clear his throat to continue. “Not blood, but accepted as if he were. They made him. Not like they made me, but close enough.”

  “They?” she repeated quietly.

  “Envesi. And Melora. They forced Alira to help them. She thought it was wrong.” He sipped his wine absently. “She fought Melora and won. Took Rhyllyn and ran. She brought him to me.”

  “Why?”

  “She thought I would understand.”

  Silent, she turned the cup in her hands, her fingertips tracing the etchings.

  Again he sank back into the upholstery and rested a hand over his eyes.

  He carried an air of struggle, though tinged with the weight of responsibility. When first they’d met, so many years ago, he’d been vibrant and passionate, filled with ambition and vigor. The man in front of her now was worn and wearied, driven instead by some duty she didn’t understand. A stark contrast to the man he'd been in Ilmenhith, too.

  In the span of a night, he'd changed, and Firal couldn't understand how. Hints of his antagonistic behavior still floated on the surface, but so little of the fight he'd put up remained.

  Rune exhaled. “What do you want?”

  She blinked at the question. “Excuse me?”

  “Well, we aren’t alone for you to enjoy my company. What do you want? Or did you just have the desire to criticize me for your mistaken ideas about Rhyllyn?”

  Anger was quick to replace any embarrassment she might have felt. “Nothing I thought was unreasonable. Look at this.” She waved a hand at the finely furnished room they sat in. “You expect me to think you never moved on?”

  “It’s none of your business if I did.”

  “And yet you’ll walk into my palace, into my home, and think you’re justified in anger that I have a family that doesn’t include you?”

  “That’s different,” Rune snapped, heat and venom in his voice.

  She barked a laugh. “How is it different?”

  “You willfully kept my child’s existence from me!”

  Firal threw up her hands. “Everything I’ve done was to keep her safe! The crown hadn't even touched my head before I found out. What was I supposed to do? Announce to the kingdom that I’d bedded their enemy and my child’s father was the man they'd sought to hang?”

  He snorted. “Not disregarding your vows within a week of me being gone would have been a start. I could have come back—”

  “Well, you didn’t,” she interrupted. “And don’t play that game with me. You think I’d believe you waited all this time?”

  “I waited longer than you,” he fired back, pushing himself up.

  She had to fight to keep from rolling her eyes. “Here I thought for a moment you’d grown up and changed. You played an impressive part in council this morning, but you’re still as petty and immature as ever.”

  Rune slammed his cup onto the table, rattling the rest of the dishes. “You’re the one who sent everyone out so you could start a fight.”

  “All I did was ask a question.” She tried to stay composed, though she felt like tearing out her hair. “With the sort of reputation you’ve apparently built for yourself, it’s not an unreasonable assumption. I’m sure you have any number of women ready to fall into your bed.”

  “At least I didn’t marry any of them!”

  From the entryway, Ordin cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but with the way the two of you are yelling, you’re making it difficult not to.”

  Growling low in his throat, Rune seized his sword from where it rested against the couch and stalked out without another word.

  The captain stepped aside to let him pass, his head bowed. Ordin looked uncomfortable. His silence made it worse.

  “Wow,” Rhyllyn said softly from the other end of the room. “You two really do fight all the time.”

  Firal stifled an unamused laugh. “Is that all the legacy we have to leave? Famous arguments?”

  Rhyllyn crept into the parlor to gather the stray cups and pitchers onto the tray. “I wouldn’t say they’re famous. I mean, I only heard the tail end.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed.

  “There’s a room upstairs for you if you want to be alone,” the boy offered. “Alira will get you some clean clothing.”

  “Probably for the best,” she sighed. Her nerves still jangled. She struggled to soothe them. “I suppose I shouldn’t meet your king like this.”

  He shrugged and picked up the tray. “Archmage Kytenia and her group are going soon, but Garam thinks it would be best if we send word to the king before we try to Gate to the Royal City. He definitely doesn’t think it’s a good idea for us to appear in the courtyard, so we’ll need to make sure there’s somewhere in the palace for us to meet in private. Alira mentioned the Gating parlor when everyone was in here, but that takes time to coordinate. It might be faster to get permission to Gate in somewhere else.”

  A wise choice, especially if Rune’s arrest had caused as much trouble as Alira implied. “Very well.” Firal didn’t know what else to say.

  “Yours is the last room in the north hall. I mean, left from the top of the stairs. Do you want me to take you?” He smiled shyly.

  Now that she saw him up close, she realized there was no resemblance between the boy and Rune, save their scales and snakelike eyes. Even then, Rhyllyn’s eyes were a rich cobalt, while his scales were a muddy olivine.

  “I’ll manage, thank you.”

  “All right. Just let me know if you need anything. The kitchen is that way. That’s where I’ll be.” He nodded toward the rear doorway and reached for her cup with a smile.

  She handed it over and lowered her eyes. “Did Garam say when we should expect word from the king?”

  “No,” Rhyllyn said, “but he expects we'll have permission to Gate into the palace by tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow. The words dragged her heart down as surely as an anchor. “I see. Thank you, Rhyllyn.”

  The boy nodded with another, more tentative smile, then disappeared through the doorway.

  Silence fell around her like a shroud.

  In the still, each tick of the clock she couldn't see struck like a death knell. Everyone else seemed calm, confident, but it took everything Firal had in her to keep from falling to the floor in tears.

  She was half the world away from her kingdom, her husband, her child. A full day from any semblance of a plan, and alone, she was faced with the hard reality of how quickly things had changed. They'd landed on this side of the Gate no more than an hour before, but it was too late.

  Ilmenhith had already fallen.

  The Snakesblood Saga concludes in book 6, Serpent’s Blood.

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  Author’s note

  Thanks for reading Serpent’s Crown! I had some reservations about continuing straight to this book, what with the time gap, but I hope it was easy enough to follow. Things are dire, but we’re not done yet. Serpent’s Blood, the final book in the Snakesblood Saga, awaits.

  This particular book endured four rounds of editing and a round of proofreading, but accidents still happen. If you find any typographical or formatting errors in this book, please let me know so I can fix it for the next reader.

  If you enjoyed this story, I’d love to have you join my author newsletter, too—it goes out twice a month or so, with information about new releases and peeks at extras like artwork and works-in-progress. You can find it here: http://www.ithilear.com/newsletter

  Hope to see you there!

  - Beth

  About the Author

  Beth Alvarez has enjoyed writing since childhood and is a ravenous reader.

  A visual arts major, Alvarez has worked as a freelance web de
signer, graphic designer, illustrator, and video game programmer. When not writing, she enjoys drawing, playing video games, driving, and sewing for her unusual collection of Asian ball-jointed dolls. Her collection can be seen on her YouTube channel, Lomi’s Playground.

  Raised in southern Illinois, she now resides in the suburbs of Memphis, Tennessee with her husband and daughter, their Siberian husky, and a very mean cat.

  Books by Beth Alvarez

  FANTASY BOOKS

  Gale’s Gift

  Of Blood and Rain

  To Steal the World

  To Steal the Crown

  To Steal the Queen

  Serpent’s Mark

  Serpent’s Tears

  Serpent’s Bane

  Serpent’s Wake

  Serpent’s Crown (Thanks for reading!)

  Serpent’s Blood (Coming May 2021)

  PARANORMAL BOOKS

  Keeper’s Finder

  Her Midnight Cowboy

  Her Midnight Wedding

  Her Midnight Hunter

  The First Hunt (Newsletter Exclusive)

  Death of the Sun

  Born of the Moon