The twice cursed serpent, p.1
The Twice-Cursed Serpent, page 1
The Twice-Cursed Serpent
Scarlett D. Vine
Parker & Wilson Press
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 by Scarlett D Vine
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Cover by Beautiful Book Covers by Ivy.
Parker & Wilson Press
Contents
Author's Content Note
. Chapter
. Chapter
Prologue
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
19. Chapter Nineteen
20. Chapter Twenty
21. Chapter Twenty-One
22. Chapter Twenty-Two
23. Chapter Twenty-Three
24. Chapter Twenty-Four
25. Chapter Twenty-Five
26. Chapter Twenty-Six
27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
29. Chapter Twenty-Nine
30. Chapter Thirty
31. Chapter Thirty-One
32. Chapter Thirty-Two
33. Chapter Thirty-Three
34. Chapter Thirty-Four
35. Chapter Thirty-Five
36. Chapter Thirty-Six
37. Chapter Thirty-Seven
38. Chapter Thirty-Eight
39. Chapter Thirty-Nine
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Author's Content Note
The Twice-Cursed Serpent is an adult series, meant for readers over the age of 18. As such, there is content that readers may wish to consider before proceeding. There are descriptions of gore, violence, death, and references to death of a parent. In addition, the novel contains depictions of abuse and self-harm. Furthermore, this novel contains consensual graphic sexual content, in addition to harsh language.
To Elizabeth
Caes belonged at court.
The gowns, the decadent dinners, the way people bowed to her and called her “Lady Caesonia,” Caes delighted in every aspect of court life. And it did not take her long until she learned that for privileged courtiers, the real fun began after dark.
Tonight, Lady Caesonia was Princess Melonie’s guest at a small affair in her chambers, one that rankled the uninvited with jealousy and would no doubt be the subject of exaggerated gossip come morning. This little gathering was meant for family only, leaving the rest of the courtiers to their unsatisfying speculation.
“Stop, Desmin, you’re going to win again,” Caes shrieked, slamming her cards against the table. The movement jostled gaming tokens off their neat piles, sending them splaying to the ground while her companions erupted into laughter. Princess Melonie, Prince Desmin’s older sister, gave Lady Sefilia a sly glance that Caes had long ago learned to stop taking personally, even though the two of them would be gossiping about her later. If Melonie had a reputation for anything—besides a penchant for gambling—it was gossip.
Desmin’s mouth curled with amusement as he picked up the gold-embossed cards and rhythmically tapped them against the rosewood table, revealing that he had indeed won again. “I can’t let you win, Caes,” Desmin said. “If I do, you will never learn to manage these two” —Desmin motioned to the other two women sitting at the table— “much less my court.”
“′My′ court, brother?” Melonie asked, deftly picking through her cards before tossing them face up on the table in defeat. She peered down her hawkish nose at Desmin. “Are you to be king now? Has our brother disappeared into mist like a night terror?”
“No,” Desmin said, giving Melonie a light kick under the table, making her grin like the two siblings were children, and not over twenty years of age. “I meant only that Caes will soon be one of us. Officially.” Desmin looked at Caes with his bright blue eyes and smiled, a warm expression which had been carrying more meaning as of late. “Which means, she must start gambling like us.”
“I will...someday,” Caes said, trying not to blush while she gathered her cards together. Though she was already nineteen and had been betrothed to Desmin, the crown prince’s younger brother, for close to two years, he still made her tremble like a foolish girl. Having set her cards on the table, Caes moved her hands out of sight and fidgeted with the jeweled ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. “I know I need to get used to gambling. But in the meantime” —Caes raised her eyes to Desmin— “you don’t need to make it so...oh, hells, Desmin. You didn’t need to beat me so soundly.”
Desmin gathered his coins, barely bothering to conceal a grin. “Maybe...but it’s so much more fun when I do,” he teased, reaching over to lightly touch Caes’s leg under the table, moving closer and closer to her core. Caes’s face flushed. Did the others notice? Arranged marriage or no, she was lucky in what she had with Desmin. Not only was Desmin the most handsome man she had ever met, but their relationship grew from acquaintance, to friend, to devoted lovers with a speed that astonished the court.
“It’s your own fault you keep losing, Caes,” Melonie said. The three other people at the table slowly turned their heads towards Melonie. “You’re afraid to win.”
“That’s not true,” Caes protested, forcing a courtly smile to her lips. Desmin withdrew his hand, leaving an empty ache.
“Of course, it is. See your knight?” Melonie nudged one of the cards from Caes’s discarded hand with the tip of her finger. “If you had played him earlier, you would’ve defeated Desmin’s page, and, based on what followed, likely won. An obvious play.” Melonie’s voice dripped with condescension, which Caes, again, had learned to ignore. Getting along with Melonie meant learning to ignore a lot of things. Caes caught Desmin smiling out of the corner of her eye as he worked on shuffling the cards for the next game.
But Caes was not about to let Melonie go unchallenged. “How are you so sure I already had that card before Desmin played the page?”
Melonie smiled. “Does it matter? I’m right.” Caes and Melonie stared at each other and Caes tried not to fidget under Melonie’s arrogant gaze. Melonie was right—Caes did have the card earlier. Though that didn’t mean Melonie was right about everything. “It makes me wonder,” Melonie slowly said, “what do you even think the point of playing is, if you aren’t willing to do what it takes to win?”
Lady Sefilia coughed, giving Caes a much-needed interruption. “How much longer will we have to wait, Lady Caesonia, until we receive word regarding your dear father’s victory?” Sefilia, a royal cousin, spoke in the flowery language of a courtier who was desperate to sound more important than she was. It didn’t work.
Caes gleefully turned her attention to Sefilia, who—likely on purpose—raised a prickly point. She bit back the desire to ask Sefilia how long she had to wait until she had a wig that wasn’t the color of a cat’s hairball—but that was not how one made friends at court.
As for father’s “victory,” Caes had heard nothing in weeks. Caes lowered her eyes to her silk skirts, which were embroidered with the finest threads and accented with tiny red gems. It was a dress meant for a princess, not a former farmer’s daughter, whose position had changed only by a twist of fate. Yet the dress was only the beginning of the treasures awaiting her once she married Prince Desmin.
“I’m not sure,” Caes admitted, her voice faltering. Desmin stopped dealing and briefly placed a reassuring hand on Caes’s shoulder. “I know my father found the rest of the sword...I know that he was nearing the holy mountain. But I have heard nothing since.” In short, Caes knew nothing more than the rest of the court.
“Why are you asking her questions you know she can’t answer?” Desmin asked.
“She’s the Chosen’s daughter,” Sefilia said. “She would have news before the rest of us.”
“Maybe in normal circumstances, but what happens to her father is everyone’s business.”
Melonie sighed. “Stop, Desmin. Caes needs to learn how to answer these things herself.”
“But not today,” Desmin protested. “Sefilia asked that for no reason other than to make Caes uncomfortable. And she knows it.”
Sefilia shook her head, her nostrils flaring like there was much more she wanted to say. That reaction wasn’t a surprise—Sefilia never approved of Desmin and Caes’s engagement. According to Sefilia, no matter what the kingdom owed Caes’s father, that didn’t extend to intermingling with the royal family—royalty was not meant to be mixed with mere commoners. No matter that the commoners in question had been elevated to titled nobility. “I meant no such thing. Surely—”
“It’s normal that these things take time,” Melonie interrupted, acting as a peacekeeper. For once. “I’m sure that soon enough, we’ll hear about t
“Those dreadful child-eaters,” Sefilia hissed. “Did you know Soul Carvers consume the deceased too?” she asked Caes.
“No,” Caes said, engaging in the gruesome conversation only as much as politeness required. “But considering how they say Soul Carvers are made, I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“At least they do not have the strength to do here what they did to Cyvid,” Sefilia said, referencing the last kingdom the Malithian Empire had conquered. “Demolishing temples, sacrificing clergy, murdering every tenth man—”
“They won’t,” Melonie interrupted. “The prophecies are never wrong. Especially when they’re this clear. Calm yourself, Sefilia—worry doesn’t do anything good for your complexion. Rest assured, Lord Damek will succeed. Our goddess wouldn’t have chosen him otherwise.”
Prince Desmin coughed pointedly. He had finished dealing the cards, and now it was time for the next game.
Caes gave Melonie a reluctant thankful nod and inspected her new hand. And then realized she couldn’t focus, not when Sefilia reminded her that at this very moment, her father might be fighting for his life. Despite the prophecy, despite the goddess’s blessing, despite Melonie’s confidence—confidence most of the kingdom shared—she couldn’t help but worry. Melonie was right—the prophecies were never wrong. There was no point in worrying. Yet how was Caes supposed to make herself stop? And if her father did come back to court safely, would he be the father she remembered from her childhood, or the sullen hero he was when he left? Her father was responsible for the fate of the kingdom—it was no wonder he was no longer given to easy laughter and abundant smiles. Maybe when his task was done, he would be the father she adored once more.
Melonie went through her cards and sighed—which was likely not a real reflection of how she felt about her hand. Caes inspected her own hand again, forced herself to focus, and groaned inwardly. Desmin or the others would beat her again, and quickly. Oh well...losing money at cards was a part of living at court, even if the four of them never bet anything of real substance in these little games. They saved their money for when the stakes mattered.
Footsteps sounded in the hall and stopped just outside the room. The door creaked open and someone walked in. Likely another of Melonie’s servants.
“Lady Caesonia,” a gruff voice said from the doorway. “Her Majesty wishes to speak with you.” Caes turned and recognized the man as the queen’s body servant. His face was as expressionless as the marble columns.
“Now?” Caes stood, her skirts smoothing until their edges landed just above the floor. “It’s almost time to sleep.”
“Now. Her Majesty said it cannot wait.”
“Maybe tidings about Lord Damek have finally arrived,” Sefilia squeaked, smiling like a child presented with a sweet.
“Good luck, Caesonia,” Melonie said sincerely. “I shall pray for favorable news.”
“She doesn’t need luck,” Prince Desmin said, his eyes shining at Caes. Caes bit back a smile. Would this mean that their wedding would finally take place?
“Thank you,” Caes said to the three of them, saving a warm smile for Desmin alone. “I will see you soon.”
With a thudding heart that rolled louder with each step, Caes left the three players to meet with the queen.
And that was the last moment Caes felt safe.
Chapter one
Three booming knocks sounded at the wooden door to Caes’s single-roomed cell. Caes groaned and threw off her threadbare coverlet, letting the winter air pierce her nightgown and torment her bare skin. It was time to get the worst part of the day done early. At least, what Caes wished was the worst part. Caes hugged herself while she hopped from foot to foot on the cold stone floor and quickly threw on her “best” dress, which was nothing more than a ragged smock of dark blue linen. She spent a minute trying to get her light brown hair into something presentable and then gave up, letting the snarled hair, which had not seen a bath or comb in nearly six months, fall limply on her back.
Not that the delegation from the Malithian Empire, Ardinan’s recent conqueror, would care about her appearance.
Three knocks sounded at the door again. “Caesonia,” the guard thundered. “It’s time.”
“I’m ready,” Caes croaked out, resisting the urge to scratch her bloody scalp. Scratching only made it worse.
Caes looked around the cell, as if she had forgotten something, but she no longer had any possessions to forget. The guards, on the queen’s orders, had confiscated everything she owned—even the worthless moon-shaped wooden pendant that Caes’s father had given her as a child. The only thing she had left of him.
Caes walked to the door as it opened slowly. After taking one last glance at her room—hoping she would never see the cursed place again—she then followed the stern guard out the door and down the palace hallways. This guard, a grizzled older man, had been kind to her during her imprisonment, in a way. At least he kept away the worst of them, the ones who enjoyed inflicting pain.
The journey to the throne room felt as if it took hours as onlookers stared at Caes like she was a murderess. Cursed bitch, traitor, whore’s daughter, were a few of the milder names they called her. They hated her dead father, their former hero, because they believed the only reason he failed in his quest was that he angered their goddess, Shirla. According to them, a pious person, a worthy person, would have succeeded in defeating Malithia’s goddess, Karima, and consequently, the enemy empire. In their superstitious minds, there was no other answer for his failure, after being named “Chosen” by sacred prophecy. And with Caes’s father dead, the freshly-conquered Ardinan, her home, needed to blame someone. So, they blamed her.
Tears no longer came to Caes’s eyes when she thought of her father. These days, they rarely came at all. That was not the case at first, until fear for her own life pulled her from grief, and she learned to become numb. For months, Caes lived under the threat that the queen would order her execution to placate the kingdom. By the time the “friendly” guard told Caes she was to be given to Malithia on the emperor’s order—why, he didn’t know—she was relieved.
Until she remembered what else lived in Malithia.
As Caes and the guard entered the throne room, Caes blinked and pushed the gawking courtiers from her mind, focusing instead on the palace’s glistening hall, where the royal family waited. For an occupied kingdom, nothing seemed out of order here. Only Malithia’s banner, placed above Ardinan’s own, signified that Ardinan no longer belonged to itself. The red and black Malithian banner bore a serpent—the Twice-Cursed Serpent—under two thick curved lines in the shape of upside down half circles. The Malithians were to appoint a governor soon, the guard had told her, and she had no doubt Queen Viessa was plotting a way for her family to stay in power. But why was the royal family so cruel to her, when they knew her and once seemed to love her? Was it for vengeance? Humiliation? Or was it the far-fetched rumor that some in the rural parts of the kingdom believed she was still loved by their goddess and had inherited her father’s blessing? Apparently, some peasants had threatened to rebel against the Ardinani and the Malithians both. If the rumor was true, harming Caes sent the message that the royal family didn’t believe she had the goddess’s favor, and also assured Malithia they did not encourage rebellion.
May hell take them all.
With a curse muttered under her breath, Caes ignored the statues of Ardinan’s goddess, Shirla. Caes stopped praying the night she learned her father had died.
Forcing her trembling legs to keep her upright, Caes walked to where the royal family and the Malithian delegates waited. Caes stood before the royals, like a beggar before their brilliant figures. Was it truly only six months ago she believed she would be standing with them? The grim king and queen sat on their golden thrones, while to one side of the king and queen stood Caes’s old friends, Princess Melonie…and Prince Desmin.
Desmin. He didn’t speak to her again after her father died. His smug face leered, making Caes’s stomach boil in a way only fresh betrayal could. He was now the man who had cheerfully auctioned off to courtiers the privilege of beating her. That was just the first time the royals had allowed her to be treated like a despised criminal. Seething, Caes clenched her fist and forced herself to turn away from Desmin. There was nothing she could do, and after today she’d never see him again.
