The Serpent Bride

by Sara Douglass

  One of her sycophants took a step forward. “Hold your tongue! No one approaches the great Duchess of—”

  “And no one speaks to a prince of the Icarii in such a manner!” StarDrifter snapped back, wrapping himself in all the full arrogance and majesty of his birth. He moved slightly toward the man, as graceful and dangerous as a striking panther, then slid his eyes to Salome.

  “Why surround yourself with such fools, Salome? Surely they are a detriment to your life.”

  “You are taking a huge risk,” she said, her eyes brilliant as they watched him. “No one speaks to me like that.”

  “Do you know what this night reminds me of, Salome?”

  She continued to stare at him, unreadable, and remained silent.

  “In my land of Tencendor,” StarDrifter continued, his attention now exclusively on Salome, “there was one special night every year. Beltide night. It was the celebration of spring, of the regeneration of the earth, of the great mother, of life and regeneration.”

  StarDrifter turned very slowly on his heel—making everyone in Salome’s group, save Salome herself, shuffle slightly in alarm—and then moved in a small circle, his gloved hands floating out a little from his sides, one shoulder dipping.

  It was the movement of a dancer.

  He came to a halt, catching Salome’s flat unreadable eyes again.

  “The Icarii and the Avar peoples gathered in the groves of the mysterious Avarinheim,” StarDrifter said, his voice so low all had to strain forward to hear it. “We danced, and drank, and we spent the night making love under the stars. It was a night of great power.”

  “And this pathetic little gathering reminds you of that?” Salome said, her voice heavy with disbelief.

  “Not this gathering,” said StarDrifter. “You remind me of Beltide’s mystery and power.”

  Then he turned on his heel and left, feeling Salome’s eyes boring into his back the entire way.

  Hours passed. StarDrifter kept moving through the crowds, taking a glass of wine now and again, and sometimes drifting into a small clearing and dancing under the stars. When he did this his movements were very slow and deliberate, heavy with sorrow and memory, incalculably sweet.

  Even among the Icarii, all of whom had exquisite grace and elegance, StarDrifter was renowned for the sheer beauty and power of his dancing. He might no longer command the power of the Star Dance, but StarDrifter nevertheless exuded such mystery, such sexuality, and imbued every single one of his movements, no matter how slight, with such extraordinary loveliness and bittersweetness that he reduced to tears most who paused to watch him.

  People would gather at the edges of the clearing, silent, awestruck.

  Most were Coroleans.

  A few were Icarii, come to watch with tears in their eyes as the legendary StarDrifter danced.

  Once the emperor and his wife stood there, openmouthed.

  On two occasions that StarDrifter was aware of, Salome watched as he danced.

  He was careful not to look at her.

  The entire evening, and his display, was meant for one purpose—to seduce Salome. But as the hours went by, StarDrifter discovered that he was enjoying the night for a very different reason.

  Tonight he had returned to being a prince. Tonight he had once more embraced his full Icarii glory, even though he lacked his wings. When all the thousands went home to their beds, there was only one thing they would ever remember of this night.

  StarDrifter, incalculably beautiful and full of grace, dancing under the drifting paper lanterns.

  Toward dawn, when people were starting to return to their chambers and apartments, StarDrifter emerged from the shadows of a huge topiary tree.

  Salome was standing across the clearing, talking in low tones with her son, Ezra, and one of the other nobles of the First.

  She turned, intuiting his presence.

  StarDrifter raised his hand in one of the most ancient and magical of Icarii gestures, and one designed to call to any of Icarii blood. He held his arm out at full length, his hand toward Salome, imperious, demanding. Slowly his fingers curled, one, twice, a third time, beckoning, commanding, in the traditional Icarii gesture of seduction.

  Salome rocked on her feet, and StarDrifter knew he had won her.

  Icarii blood would always out.

  “I have rules in here,” Salome said. “You will obey them.”

  StarDrifter did not answer. He wandered about her bedchamber, hands once again loosely clasped behind his back, inspecting the many objects of antiquity and beauty.

  He stopped before the Weeper, staring at it. For all its value and power, it was only a small thing, standing about half a pace in height. It had been carefully fashioned by an ancient craftsman of great worth, for every detail of the deity’s face was carefully and lovingly picked out, and even the weave of the cloth was apparent in its robe.

  There was a faint trail of moisture down one cheek.

  “You do not touch that,” Salome said.

  StarDrifter turned about. “One of your ‘rules’?”

  “You shall not speak to me. I have no interest in your thoughts. I shall use your body and then require you to leave.”

  StarDrifter gave her a cynical smile, then resumed his slow inspection of the room.

  “I said—” Salome began.

  “I heard what you said,” StarDrifter said, now leaning over a collection of gems set into velvet and displayed on a low table. “I discover you have a hitherto unsuspected sense of humor.”

  Salome flushed. “I can destroy you,” she said.

  StarDrifter stood up and smiled at her, now with apparent genuine humor. “You cannot say that to a man who has lost everything he has ever held dear, and who longs only for death, and think to scare him with it. In fact, my dear”—he took a step closer to her—“you only entice him with such promises.”

  He drew off his gloves and tossed them back onto the gem-laden table. Then he walked forward and cupped her cheek in his hand.

  She jerked away. “You do only what I—”

  “Your skin is very soft,” StarDrifter said.” Strange, for somehow I thought it would have a reptilian cast to it.”

  Her eyes glittered. “Leave.”

  “No.”

  She turned toward the door.

  “You’ve never had an Icarii lover, have you?” said StarDrifter.

  She turned back to him. “I’ve had thousands.”

  “Liar.”

  She stared at him, her breathing rapid. StarDrifter could see she wanted to order him to leave, or to order in the guards to force him to leave, but he could also see that she wanted him.

  “Don’t be frightened,” he said, moving forward and again cupping her face in his hand.

  She tensed, but before she could move away StarDrifter leaned down and kissed her.

  What stunned him was not her response, but his own. The instant he felt her mouth open beneath his, he grabbed her to him, pressing her the length of his body, burying his hands in her hair, dragging his mouth to her jaw, and sinking in his teeth.

  Then it was all movement. The tearing away of clothes, the grabbing of flesh, the hoarse breathing, the grunts, the sheer, unashamed arousal.

  It wasn’t pretty, or elegant, or clothed in any manner of regard or warmth. It was sheer, primitive sex, accomplished even before they managed the bed. When it was done, when StarDrifter managed to bring his breathing back from the fevered pitch of orgasm to something vaguely approaching normal, he rose from Salome’s body, picked her up, carried her to the bed, flung her down, and began all over again.

  He’d never felt this way when making love before. Not with his wife, Rivkah, not with any other of the many Icarii women he’d bedded, not with any other of his human lovers, such as Embeth, the woman he’d taken when first he’d arrived in the city of Carlon.

  It was as if Salome was a drug, instantly addictive.

  He hated the woman, but, oh, stars, his entire being screamed at
him to take her just one more time, one more time…

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Town of Torinox, the Northern Borders of the FarReach Dependency

  Did you manage all your breakfast this morning?” Zeboath asked.

  “Yes,” Ishbel said, wincing a little as Zeboath’s fingers probed at the joints at the top of her spine.

  “It still hurts a little,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “But your body is expelling the poison faster than I had expected.” Zeboath smiled, then stood back. “I think you will be well, my lady. You have a courageous constitution.”

  She smiled a little at that. “I did not realize constitutions could be ‘courageous.’”

  “Indeed. All good physicians know how to spot at first glance a courageous constitution, and an adventurous constitution, and even a glamorous constitution.”

  Now Ishbel laughed. “You are a likeable physician, Zeboath.”

  “I strive for it, my lady.”

  “Not all physicians are as likeable.”

  Curious, Zeboath was about to ask what had sparked that remark when Axis SunSoar entered the room.

  “Ishbel,” he said, nodding at her. “Zeboath, how is she this morning?”

  “You may ask her yourself,” Zeboath said. “I believe her voice has quite recovered.”

  Axis smiled and inscribed a small bow before Ishbel, seated at the small table in her room. “I apologize, Ishbel. I did not mean to speak as if you were not here.”

  “I am feeling much better, thank you. Zeboath’s herbal drafts have done me much good.”

  Axis glanced at Zeboath and noted his flush of pleasure. “He is a good physician,” Axis said, “and much wasted here at Torinox. Zeboath, once Ishbel has recovered sufficiently we shall need to ride to Aqhat. Would you accompany us? Isaiah provided my company all its needs, save for a physician. Or do you have ties with the resettlement peoples that you can’t—”

  “I’ll come,” said Zeboath. “Thank you!”

  “You are hungry for the excitement of Aqhat, I think,” Axis said, glad the man had accepted. Even in the short time they’d been at Torinox he’d grown to like Zeboath very much, and physicians were always useful around fighting men. “Now,” he continued, keeping his tone light and bantering, “if you’d care to leave the lady and myself alone…”

  “I don’t know that I should,” Zeboath said, responding to Axis’ tone. “I fear for my lady’s virtue.”

  “Come, come,” said Axis, “if you’re going to run with a band of unscrupulous fighting men, then you’ll need to accept their dissolute ways.”

  Both men laughed, and Zeboath exited, bowing at Ishbel from the door.

  Once the door had closed, Axis sat down at the table, and noticed with some surprise that Ishbel looked very uncomfortable at his and Zeboath’s banter. That puzzled him. She might well have thought their exchange annoyingly juvenile, or she might have laughed with them—but to be made uncomfortable? It was not the kind of reaction Axis would have expected from a queen, or indeed any lady of court.

  Ishbel intrigued him. There had been the remark she made last night about the ancient evil in the south, which at the time he’d not commented on because Ishbel had looked so tired and ill he’d thought it better she get some rest.

  There was her relationship with Maximilian, which she appeared to believe was in dire straits. Here Axis had to partly agree with her, if it was true Maximilian had kept an Icarii lover, but on the other hand it didn’t marry well with what BroadWing had said about Maximilian.

  There was the very fact that Ba’al’uz had stolen her in the first place. Isaiah may have believed his brother’s stated reason—to present Isaiah with a new bride—but Axis thought that Ba’al’uz likely had a deeper, far more secret reason for taking the woman.

  Now this curious gaucheness, as if she had been kept secluded all her life.

  Axis smelled a secret.

  “You look far better today,” he said. “A day or two’s rest here, and then perhaps we can continue our journey south.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To Aqhat. It is a massive palace complex on the banks of the River Lhyl, home to the Tyrant of Isembaard, Isaiah.”

  “Why? What am I doing here? Why did this man, Ba’al’uz, take me?”

  “Ba’al’uz took you in order to present you as a gift to the Tyrant of Isembaard, Isaiah,” Axis said, wondering how Ishbel would react to this. “A trophy wife. A conquest, for a man who lives only for conquest.”

  She blanched, her eyes wide and brilliant, and for a moment Axis thought she had actually stopped breathing.

  “Ishbel, don’t worry. Isaiah has an unnatural aversion to women who are pregnant or who have given birth. Isaiah will take one look at you, be horribly appalled, and never want to set eyes on you again. You shall have the best apartment and care while you are Isaiah’s ‘guest,’ but you shall not be harmed, nor touched.”

  “Axis…” Ishbel leaned forward a little on the table, half extending a hand over its surface toward him. “Please, let me go. Don’t take me to Aqhat. I—”

  “Where would you go?”

  She leaned back in the chair, sliding her hand down to her lap. “I want to go home.”

  “Escator.”

  She shifted her eyes away.

  Axis watched her, considering. Not Escator. “Where is ‘home,’ Ishbel? Where do you come from?”

  “The Outlands. It is a province—”

  “I know where it is. It is a very large area. From where in the Outlands?”

  She looked back at him, lifting her chin, and Axis saw a flash of determination in her eyes. “A place called Serpent’s Nest. You may not have heard of it.”

  Stars! That was the mountain that had so interested Isaiah.

  Could this be the reason Ba’al’uz had snatched her? What was Serpent’s Nest’s secret?

  “I have heard of it,” he said, “but I have not heard well of the mountain.” Axis paused, then decided to push a little. “Isaiah called it the home of a ‘rather vile band of psychic murderers.’”

  She blanched, but Axis could see he’d made her angry rather than fearful. “Tell me about Serpent’s Nest,” he said. “I know nothing other than what Isaiah told me. It was”—is, in her mind—“your home?”

  Ishbel gave a jerk of her head. “Since I was a child of eight.” She was so practiced now in her lies that they fell easily from her mouth. “I was an orphan, and the Coil took me in, caring for me. I was their ward.”

  “And you left there only to marry Maximilian.”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me of the Coil.”

  “There is little enough to tell. They are an order who prophesy using the twists of a man’s bowel. They worship a god called the Great Serpent.” She shrugged. “I know little else save that they were good to me and that I owed them my utter loyalty.”

  She looked directly at Axis as she said this, and he knew that she would not be drawn further.

  Later, he thought. You have left too much unsaid for me to let this one go.

  “Was it the Coil who told you about the ancient evil?”

  She hesitated, then nodded. “They are concerned.”

  “I have no doubt,” Axis said. His fingers tapped lightly on the table as he considered her. She was such an enigma. She fascinated him and she attracted him, even as tired and disheveled and as pregnant as she was. Axis BattleAxe would most certainly have seduced her.

  And Axis now?

  “Tell me about Maximilian,” Axis said. “He intrigues me. I have never met him, although I do know something of him. The daughter of a dear friend was once in negotiations to marry him, but the negotiations fell through.”

  Ishbel made a helpless gesture. “He flummoxes me. He overwhelms me. Sometimes I feel I can hardly breathe around him. He terrifies me.”

  You love him, thought Axis, remembering how she had called out to Maximilian during the long ride
to Torinox, but because you have no idea what love is, you don’t recognize it.

  “Maximilian will have been glad to have lost me,” Ishbel said.

  “BroadWing, one of the Icarii who tried to rescue you, was sent by Maximilian. BroadWing said that Maximilian would tear the earth apart to get you back again.”

  Ishbel laughed bitterly. “That I cannot believe. This child, maybe, but not me.”

  “If that is true,” Axis said, “then Maximilian is a terrible fool. And that I cannot believe of a man who won through the terrors of the Veins.”

  “He is a most strange man, Axis,” Ishbel said. “Sometimes I think that he did not leave the terror in the Veins. Sometimes I think he may have brought it out with him.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Palace of the First, Yoyette, Coroleas

  Where is the Weeper?”

  StarDrifter did not even glance at Ba’al’uz as he closed the door to his chamber, then threw himself full-length on the bed. “Stars…I am exhausted.”

  “Where is the Weeper?”

  “In Salome’s chamber.”

  “But—”

  StarDrifter rolled over, lacing his hands behind his head. “She was too alert, Ba’al’uz. Too nervy. I need to wait a night or two more, I think. Allow her to relax. It matters not a night or two more. Be assured. I will take it eventually.”

  Ba’al’uz took a deep breath, calming himself down. StarDrifter was right. A night or two would not matter.

  “You did sleep with her.”

  A salacious grin on StarDrifter’s face was all the answer Ba’al’uz needed.

  “And you think she’ll want you back?”

  StarDrifter laughed softly. “Oh, she’ll want me back.”

  Salome lay curled up in her bed, damp sheets twisted about her body. Her servant had come in earlier with her usual morning glass of tea, but Salome had snarled so viciously at her that the servant had dropped the glass and run.

  All Salome wanted was to lie, and think.

  Dear gods, what she’d done last night had been so dangerous. Taking an Icarii lover.