Serpentine

by Cindy Pon

  Skybright clutched her head between tight fists, willing the blazing heat away. Willing herself not to change. No. Not now. Not in front of Kai Sen. Her body shook with the effort, still trembling from the kiss they had shared. Terror constricted her chest.

  His thumb stroked her cheek, and she jerked away from him.

  “What was that?” She tried to catch her breath, and the words came unevenly.

  “I’ve always wondered what it was like, to kiss.” His voice sounded low and thick.

  “So you decided to experiment on the first handmaid you came across?”

  The first handmaid he came across naked in the forest.

  Humiliation and anger wound tight within her, and she welcomed the emotions. Anything to smother the heat that threatened to rise below.

  Kai Sen made a choking noise. “No. Of course not. I wanted to kiss you.” He lifted his hand to touch her again and she slapped it aside. “I like you,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen plenty of servant girls in town, wandering the markets. But you were the only I ever knew brave enough to climb a giant cypress to spy on monks.” He smiled. “You’re the only one I’ve felt I could share my past with–”

  “You don’t even know me,” she said. And it felt as if her heart was shattering like brittle porcelain, because Kai Sen could never truly know her. Not ever. “Please go.”

  He took a step back, and she hated him for obeying her. “Will you still meet me in the morning by the creek?” he asked.

  She almost laughed. “Have you found something?”

  “Come and I’ll tell you.” He climbed up the manor wall with ease, although she didn’t know how he was able to find any purchase. Crouching low at the top, his dark eyes sought hers, before he said, “Don’t be angry, Skybright.” Kai Sen dropped noiselessly down onto the other side of the wall. “I like you.” She heard him say again.

  Then there was nothing more except for the soft murmurs of the evening.

  Skybright purposely overslept the next morning, hoping Zhen Ni would come to her. When her mistress arrived, she made it a point to seem limp while lying in her bed. Zhen Ni rushed to her, hands outstretched.

  “What’s wrong, Sky? Are you ill again?” She leaned over Skybright, the silver sleeves of her robe fluttering.

  “It’s only a headache, mistress,” she said in a meek voice. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to you this morning.”

  “Nonsense!” Zhen Ni touched her wrist. “That’s what I have Rose for. I love your company too much and you never get a break. It’s no wonder you’ve fallen ill. Especially after that—” She pursed her lips, “episode.”

  Skybright gave Zhen Ni a weak smile.

  “Shall I have Oriole send you some rice porridge? Would you like Nanny Bai to make a tonic?” Zhen Ni fussed with the few cushions on Skybright’s bed, and her heart swelled with love for her mistress. It only made her feel worse for lying.

  “I think you’re right, I just need to rest.”

  Zhen Ni patted her hand. “I’ll ask the household not to disturb you and to be especially quiet if they’re outside your bedchamber. Better yet, I’ll ban them from coming near this side of the quarters!” She grinned, delighted by her own fantastic idea. “I’ll check in on you before the evening meal. You must feel better by then or I shall be worried.”

  Skybright smiled. It was so like Zhen Ni to command her back to health. “I promise I shall be, mistress.”

  “All right. You’re sure you don’t want anything?”

  “I really have no appetite.”

  “Rest well then. Lan and I were going to spend the day composing bad love poetry and attempting calligraphy. She’s better studied in the women’s language than I am! And her calligraphy is quite impressive for a girl,” Zhen Ni said in one long rush.

  Skybright had been excluded from the weekly lessons Zhen Ni had with her tutor on the simplified words used in the women’s language. Lady Yuan had thought it improper to teach a handmaid how to read or write. Now, it was something that her mistress could share with Lan.

  “She can even paint a little! Lan’s father taught her how to paint the most delicate plum blossoms. You should see how she purses her lips and squints when she does them.” Zhen Ni mimicked Lan’s expression then burst into laughter. “Then she dabs the petals in the palest pink—”

  Her mistress broke off, catching the sour expression on Skybright’s face. “Oh, I’ve tired you with my chatter.” Zhen Ni leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, just as they used to do in parting when they were little girls. She smelled of lemon soap, and the sweet subtle scent that was her own skin. “Do rest, Sky.”

  “I will, mistress,” Skybright lied.

  She was becoming quite good at it.

  Skybright sneaked into the kitchen again while Cook was away serving the morning meal. She threw away the day-old food that she had laid out for the hungry ghosts, and exchanged it for fresh rice, pickled cucumbers and garlic eggplant, steamed red bean buns, and a cluster of lychees. She grabbed a jug of rice wine and three cups before slinking back to her bedchamber.

  Frustrated that she cared so much, Skybright took too long deciding on what to wear to meet Kai Sen, rifling through the wardrobe, discarding one outfit after the other. She had never dwelled before on her own appearance—it only mattered that Zhen Ni was beautifully dressed and put together. She finally chose a tunic the color of pale jade, embroidered with peach blossoms, and pinned silver lotus ornaments into her wound braids—gifts from Zhen Ni.

  Peering out of her bedchamber, she saw no one, and hurried to the back with her stash of food. Skybright laid out the new offerings and lit another incense stick. She then ate an apple she had taken, and slipped out of the manor through the servant side entrance.

  It was a gorgeous morning, and the giant cypresses soared into the blue skies. Skybright ran toward the forest, feeling unburdened and free, reveling in the majestic beauty that surrounded her. The lotus ornaments in her braids chimed with her every step, but she slowed when the trees’ coolness enveloped her.

  She’d always felt home hidden within, surrounded by thick trunks and leafy branches, with the dirt beneath and the glimmers of sunshine above. And it wasn’t until she heard Nanny Bai’s story that it made perfect sense. She was born in this forest, was of this forest. Her pulse quickened as she neared the creek. What if Kai Sen didn’t come? And if he did, what horrible things would she learn about herself?

  Her fingers rose to touch her lips, remembering the feel and taste of him. She frowned and tried to push the memory aside; it only distracted her from her task—finding out what she could about serpent demons. It’s not as if she could ever be in a real relationship with Kai Sen—he was a monk, and she was …

  She broke through the trees and entered the clearing, spying Kai Sen immediately. She let out a breath of relief. His back was to her, and instead of his usual wooden staff, he had a giant book tucked against his side. Head bowed, he was observing something in the water, but turned when she neared.

  Kai Sen’s smile was tentative. “I wasn’t sure if you would come.”

  “I wasn’t sure if you would, either,” she replied.

  Skybright stood beside him, and they watched the clear water ripple over the stones and pebbles of the creek. It was soothing, mesmerizing. She wished that she could stay like this for a long time, in the sunshine, beside Kai Sen, feeling content. Feeling uncomplicated. “The rocks are all different sizes and colors,” she said. She saw large gray rocks protruding from the surface, and stones and pebbles in pale pinks and blues or mottled black and white in the creek bed.

  “Who knows how long they’ve been there,” he added.

  She sat down cross-legged by the water’s edge. “So did you find anything?”

  Kai Sen sat across from her with the heavy book in his lap. “Not much, unfortunately. The legend of the serpent demon is one of the oldest in Xia, but it’s surprising how little information
there is on her.”

  Her.

  “It’s always a woman?”

  “Always.”

  He flipped to a page in the book marked with a green ribbon. She smelled the must of old paper and imagined she saw dust particles rise as he turned the pages. Kai Sen stopped at his marked page. The spread had a black and white illustration on one side and text on the other. “Here.” He shifted so he was sitting beside her, their shoulders touching. “This is a depiction of the serpent demon.”

  She leaned over the book. The serpent demon had the face of a beautiful woman, but her irises were vertical slits, and they glowed, as was indicated by the lines drawn around her eyes, like rays of sunlight. A long forked tongue dangled from her sensuous mouth. But the only thing remotely human about her was her face, as it melded into a thick snake’s head and body.

  This wasn’t how she appeared. She kept her human shape above the waist while in demonic form, although the long muscular coil ending in a tail was the same.

  “What does it say?” Skybright pointed at the text beside the drawing.

  Kai Sen began reading aloud:

  “The serpent demon is another soulless creature that roams our world. She manifests as a beautiful and alluring woman, preying on unsuspecting men. In human form, she is irresistible, and there are no visual clues as to her true identity to forewarn the victim. By then the victim is usually sound asleep after an amorous encounter and is brutally murdered, either poisoned by her venomous bite or strangled by her coil. It is unclear why she kills. Some legends say she was placed in our world by the gods themselves as punishment for men who are unfaithful to their wives. Others believe she kills for the pleasure of killing. The serpent demon is immortal and can only be slain with a blessed blade or by decapitation. She often travels on deserted roads alone. She is temptress, seductress, murderer, home-wrecker—”

  He stopped mid-sentence and cleared his throat.

  “What?” Skybright glanced from the text to his face.

  Kai Sen’s dark brows drew together. “Nothing. It doesn’t say much more beyond that.”

  “But … can she speak in serpent form? Can she—can she give birth?”

  He gave her a peculiar look, then rubbed his eyes. She noticed now the dark circles beneath them. “What a strange question. It’s not mentioned in this particular text, but I read about fox spirits in another tome during my research. It said that fox spirits would often fall in love with humans and marry them, sometimes having the mortals’ offspring. Unlike the serpent demon, the text said. The serpent demon always killed her victims and was incapable of love or bearing offspring.”

  Skybright’s heart sank. None of this made sense.

  “As for whether she can speak while in serpent form, there’s no mention of that anywhere in the books I’ve read.”

  He touched the back of her hand, and she flinched away from him. “Why are you so interested in this anyway?”

  Skybright drew her knees to her chest. “I don’t know. It’s fascinating, don’t you think?”

  “Fascinating isn’t the word I’d choose,” he said, and placed the book on the grass beside him, before stretching out his arms and folding them behind his head. “We have thousands of books in the monastery library, and the abbot has a few hundred more in his personal collection. Some of the things I’ve read about in those books—” He shook his head, then rolled onto his side so he could see her.

  “I’m sorry I frightened you last night, Skybright. And … and I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy our kiss.”

  She dipped her face toward him. “I never said I didn’t enjoy it.”

  He stared at her for two beats before falling down on his back again and laughing uproariously. “And here I was worried all night that I’d done it wrong,” he said, between gasps.

  She smiled into her sleeve, even now recalling his palms caressing her skin, how she could feel his heart hammering wildly against her own.

  “Because truly, I could kiss you for days. Of course, we would have to break off to drink water. If I’ve learned anything from my training, it’s the importance of staying hydrated. But I could do without food and fast on your kisses,” he said with a big grin, his eyes closed to the sunlight above them.

  Skybright groaned, but laughed despite herself. “You’re ridiculous.”

  Kai Sen peered at her with one eye. “Tell me you liked it as much as I did.” He sat up, and covered her hand with his, suddenly serious. She didn’t pull away this time. “I felt like I was drunk. And floating. It was like nothing I’d experienced before.” He laced his fingers through hers, and her hand seemed small clasped within his. “There’s something about you. I felt it the moment I saw you standing in that tree.” He laughed that full laugh of his. “You’re irresistible.”

  She’d been enjoying the feel of his palm against hers, but her heart dropped with that last word, her stomach clenching. She shuffled back on all fours away from him.

  Irresistible.

  Temptress.

  Seductress and murderer.

  Kai Sen scrubbed a hand across his face, but not before she saw the stricken expression on it.

  “You’re a monk, Kai Sen. Aren’t you sworn to celibacy?” He liked her because he had no choice. She liked him because she was a fool.

  He snorted. “I’m no real monk, remember?” It was jarring to hear the bitterness in his voice. “So why should I abide by their rules?”

  “Well,” She dug her hands deep into the dirt, “I’m not who I seem either.”

  “If you’re trying to scare me off, it’s not working.” He stared at the open book, the drawing of the serpent demon leering back at him. “You can see and hear the ghosts because you’re different, too, aren’t you?”

  Her arms pimpled, as if a cool breeze had swept across her, and she shivered. She wanted to slam the book shut.

  “I do know one thing for certain.” He lifted her chin with gentle fingers so she would see him. “Whatever power you have, whatever gift, you didn’t choose it. Just like I didn’t choose to be clairvoyant. When I saw you for the first time, it felt as if something snapped into place. It wasn’t a coincidence that I found you asleep in the forest that morning, Skybright. I was drawn to your presence.” His gaze was filled with warmth, with concern. “I’ve experienced many unusual things because of my … ability. But never this.”

  Skybright shook her head. “We don’t even know each other, Kai—”

  “You said that before. Ask me anything then,” he said with a grin, a note of challenge in his voice.

  “Where were you born?”

  “Xi Men. In the twelfth moon.”

  “What’s your favorite pastime?”

  “Jumping.”

  She laughed. “What?”

  “I like jumping. Leaping off the ground. Or from high up.” He shrugged. “I like the freedom in the movement, the rush from the motion.”

  “Don’t you have a less … strange hobby?”

  It was his turn to laugh. “Oh, so I’m being judged now?” He sprang to his feet in one swift move. “You tell me something you like to do first.”

  Skybright rested her chin against her knees, thinking. Her entire life revolved around serving Zhen Ni—what did she do for pleasure? “Singing. I like to sing.”

  “You do have a pretty singing voice. I hope to hear more of it.” Kai Sen began backing away from her, the sunlight a bright halo around his frame. “I’ll jump across the creek.”

  “No. You’ll get sopping wet!” The creek was wider than the length of two men.

  But Kai Sen was already racing toward the water, and he shot straight up when his foot hit the creek’s edge. Skybright covered her mouth as he flew over to the other side, landing gracefully on both feet. He turned around with a boyish grin on his tanned face.

  “See? There’s no feeling like it.” Kai Sen leaped back across the creek with ease, using the few stones that protruded a
bove the water, and sat down beside her. “I enjoy carving too,” he said after a pause. “Making things from wood—if that’s more acceptable to you.”

  She smiled. “Your favorite dish?”

  “Cold noodles with bean curd and sesame paste. You?”

  “Braised pork chops with rice.”

  “I’m hungry now.”

  “I almost forgot. I brought something to thank you.” Skybright unwrapped a handkerchief, revealing four steamed red bean buns. “Cook just made them this morning.” They each took one and ate in silence, both savoring the treat.

  It wasn’t until they had polished off all four that Kai Sen finally said, “You set up that ancestor altar for the ghosts, didn’t you?”

  “They asked me to.”

  “That was kind.”

  “It seemed the right thing to do,” she replied. “They were lost … forgotten. Just because they were poor in life doesn’t mean they should spend their afterlife in hunger.”

  Kai Sen considered her for a moment before saying, “For as long as I’ve seen the random spirit bound to our realm, it’s never occurred to me to help them.”

  “Our circumstances are different,” she said. “I only began seeing spirits recently. You were just a child and given away because of it.”

  He bowed his head and began pulling stray blades of grass from the earth, his shoulders tensed into a straight line. “Weren’t you frightened, Skybright?”

  “Not really,” she replied. She remembered then what he had said to her the previous evening, right before he had kissed her: I never feel as if I can speak of my past with the other monks. She suddenly understood that there was the cheerful Kai Sen, full of teasing banter—the confident young man that the monks knew—and this one before her, hunched as if trying to fold inward to protect himself, still nursing the anger and heartbreak of being discarded by his own parents and taken into a monastery that would not fully accept him. She wanted to touch him, to somehow ease his pain and sorrow.