The twice cursed serpent, p.16
The Twice-Cursed Serpent, page 16
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
Kerensa gave Caes a wide smile. “You know, I’m happy I didn’t kill you on the way back from Ardinan. I was tempted.”
“I’m sure.” Caes paused. “But I’m not letting you get out of this conversation that easily.”
“No?”
“Nope. Who are you avoiding at court?”
“It’s not who—” Kerensa’s features deflated. “Alright, it’s a ‘who.’”
“Who is it? A lord? A guard?”
Kerensa snorted. “Why would I be with a human?”
“Because...you...are...one?”
“Not anymore.” Kerensa took in the blank look on Caes’s face and leaned back in her chair. “Alright, you’re new. Soul Carvers don’t associate with humans. Like that. Not often.”
“Is there a law?”
“No law. It’s more to avoid...complications.” Kerensa sighed. “Fine. It happens. But it gets messy when it does. For each story of infatuated lovers who grow old together, there are hundreds more who have one of three things happen.” Kerensa held out a single fiery finger. “First, the human discovers they can’t deal with a partner who may have some...conditions. Like this.” Before Caes could stop her, Kerensa lifted up her tunic, revealing the bright red burns spread across her skin. After a moment she pulled the fabric back down and gave Caes a grim smile. “Truly, it’s not as bad for me as it appears. But it’s difficult for humans to deal with since it requires a certain delicate touch. Other Soul Carvers have it even worse. Like Fer, he has poison. If he found someone, he’d have to worry his entire life that he would accidentally kill his family.”
“I understand.”
Kerensa cleared her throat. “Second, there are the more practical ones. Soul Carvers rarely settle down for a life of idyllic bliss. We work. We’re at court, at war, and we could be called to the temple in an instant. Makes things difficult.”
“Fair enough.”
“Third, others might hurt the humans.”
“Other Soul Carvers?”
“No. Never.” Kerensa shook her head violently. “Other humans. It’s not a guarantee that other humans would use a Soul Carver’s family against them, but it happens enough we avoid it by not getting into the mess in the first place. Goddess, I only volunteered to be a Soul Carver because I was an orphan and had no one to lose.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Tell me, Ardinani—how does it not?”
“You’re Soul Carvers. Why are you not—I don’t know—retaliating? I’d think the prospect of one of you hunting me would be a deterrent.”
“If only the answer were as simple as you.” Kerensa sighed like she was going to have to explain where the sun set to a child. “You’re right. The fear is enough to keep most from attempting it. But the people who are not afraid to anger a Soul Carver are also the type to have the money and power to keep us from doing much to them. Though” —her mouth curved in a satisfied smile— “you do hear delicious stories of revenge from time to time.”
“Surely, if you all—”
“Look.” Kerensa rested her hands on the table. “A group of Soul Carvers couldn’t agree on what to have for dinner, much less whether or not to rebel against the emperor or one of his prime nobles. Especially not with what the emperor is willing to pay,” she added in a whisper.
“I see.”
Kerensa crossed her arms. “So, other than maybe a night or two of curiosity, we Soul Carvers stick to each other. It keeps things much simpler.”
Caes tried to process what Kerensa told her. This explained a lot that she found odd about the court. Each Soul Carver was eerily beautiful, and it was odd there were none known as nobles’ lovers—though she had heard plenty of jokes about them trying. And failing. Alair definitely wouldn’t be interested in her like that—he was being a friend, and nothing more.
“What’s with your face? Disappointed?”
“What? Why?”
Kerensa grinned. “We do make excellent lovers, I admit that.”
“That’s…good to know,” Caes admitted, hoping Kerensa didn’t notice the blush working across her face. “Alright, so humans aren’t worth the trouble. So now that’s out of the way, will you tell me who you are avoiding?”
“Fine. It’s a couple someones.”
“A couple?”
“Don’t look at me like that. One of them I never had anything to do with and have no plans to.”
Caes moved her book to one side. “Oh, this is better than any research.”
Kerensa narrowed her eyes. “You know, at times like this, I believe you used to be a courtier.” Kerensa said it like an insult, but her smile said otherwise. “Ok. The first is Lord Seltyn.”
“Who?”
“Exactly. He just assumed his father’s titles and now he’s coming to court to pay fealty to the emperor.” Kerensa stopped talking, though she fidgeted in her seat.
“That’s it?”
“No.” Kerensa groaned and picked at a splinter on the table. “Last year, right before we left to fetch you, actually, I was at his estate to assist with the royal tax collection. Easy work, a nice way to leave court. But he met me. Invited me to his rooms several times. And was quite upset that I refused—no matter how much he offered.”
Caes grinned.
“What?” Kerensa asked.
“I’m just surprised he’s still alive.”
“Oh, he tried my patience. I never engage with humans. I tried once after I turned, and never again.” After seeing the burns, Caes understood why—too much of a risk of hurting the person you care about. “I have a feeling he’s going to try again if he sees me at court. I don’t want to deal with it.”
“Because your someone number two is here,” Caes ventured.
“Not only that, but that’s part of it, yes. The number two is named Danon. A Soul Carver. His powers came from being shot to death with arrows.”
Caes frowned. She hadn’t seen many of the Soul Carvers who had more physical powers at court, as most were with the army. “How does that work? I’ve never seen that sort of magic.”
“It’s ghastly.” Kerensa grinned, the way all Soul Carvers did when engaging in disturbing talk. “He has to touch someone, but when he does, they end up with wounds like they were shot with arrows. A lot.”
“How can he not wipe out an entire army?”
“There’s a cost to all of our magic, Caes. Based on what you’ve seen, I think I will leave it up to you to imagine the cost.”
She could imagine it. “Would it kill him, if he tried to use too much too fast?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
Kerensa nodded. “Anyway, Danon and I were together for a few months, not too long after Cylis and I were together—”
“What?” Caes lunged forward in surprise, knocking her books off the table.
“Yes.” Kerensa cocked her head. “I’m not surprised he didn’t say anything. Cylis and I parted on good terms—now that was a delightful few weeks. Not like Danon.”
“What happened with Danon?”
“Some human girl happened.”
“I thought you said Soul Carvers and humans didn’t associate. Detailed it quite vividly, in fact.”
“I said not often, and usually not for long. Anyway, Danon and this woman ended up not lasting because of the second reason I gave you—Danon is never in one place for long. And Danon is lucky—his gifts mean that as long as he isn’t using them, he looks rather normal.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I guess I had better get used to seeing him. There aren’t that many of us.” Amusement passed over Kerensa’s face while she watched Caes pick the books off the floor. Did Alair ever dally with anyone? Hells, could she ask Kerensa? No. Absolutely not. “Maybe I had better try my luck with the Stone God,” Kerensa said absentmindedly. “He seems handsome. And less complicated.”
Caes laughed as she picked up the books and set them back on the table. “I wouldn’t be so sure. He seems more complicated than any of them.”
“What do you mean?”
Caes re-organized her books. “Well, for starters, no one can agree on what he is the god of.”
“Why should that matter?” Kerensa leaned back in her chair, bored again.
“I’m trying to get a better understanding of the legends, especially since he’s just a little relevant to the curse.”
The corner of Kerensa’s lip curled.
“Some labeled him a god of destruction, while others think that, like Karima, he had no specialization at all. Others have him magic-less.”
“That’s quite a range. What do you plan to do?”
“The only thing I can,” Caes said. “Keep studying.”
Chapter sixteen
Caes made it less than one frustrating week in the library before she received a summons from the emperor commanding her to attend something called a “summer display of valor,” which in court language meant some sort of duel. Such contests were common distractions in the Ardinani court, and as such, Caes knew to dress formally. The garment she selected was another luxurious gift from Sabine—a dark green sleeveless silk dress that went all the way to the floor. It was cut to be form-fitting, but not scandalously so. Uniquely, the neckline of the dress was framed with black lace, spiraled ribbons, and beads, as was the waist, which formed a sort of artificial belt. A style that would have turned heads in Ardinan, which was obsessed with attaching as much fabric to women as possible.
When she was ready, Caes walked through crowded halls towards the outdoor grounds accompanied by Cylis, her mind drifting to the one Soul Carver she wished to see. No, she had to stop thinking of Alair—it would get her nowhere. She had to get through this event that the emperor invited—commanded—her to attend, and then she would have the luxury of thinking of anything else.
Caes clenched her fists and quickly changed them to smoothing her skirts. Think about Kerensa. Research. Seda…
Cylis noted Caes’s forced movements but said nothing, turning his cold gaze straight ahead. It was the heat of summer, which was mild in these mountains compared to Ardinan. Yet, Cylis was dressed almost scandalously for a courtier, in a thin loose linen shirt and equally thin breeches. Under the shirt, Caes was able to make out rows of sculpted muscles. Dark blue skin peeked out from beneath his shirt, the only noticeable nod to his ice magic. Well, that, and his plum-colored nails.
“Does it hurt?” Caes asked. “Your skin.”
Cylis turned to her, looking more amused than annoyed, but definitely still annoyed. “You get used to it. My rooms are underground—it makes things easier.”
“Kerensa said something similar. That’s a lot to get used to.”
“It’s worth it.” To drive the point home, white frost began to circle around Cylis’s hands. It may have been Caes’s imagination, but she thought Cylis’s posture relaxed a bit and he stepped a little closer to her.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. That was rude of me.” They walked a few more paces before Caes decided to change the topic. “Can you tell me what this event is?”
“Tradition. Marks the harvest. An old belief that blood needs to water the earth to repair what we take away.”
Caes turned to Cylis, worried. “People will die?”
“Oh. No. But they will bleed.”
“Who fights?”
“Mostly the emperor’s knights. Some Soul Carvers.” He flashed a stiff grin at Caes. “You will be able to see us in action for once, rather than guarding your boring ass.”
“Be glad I’m not more exciting—it wouldn’t be worth the trouble.” Cylis hummed in agreement.
They stepped out of the palace and into the night. The moon was gone, hidden behind clouds, and the palace was drenched in darkness—except for the orange glow where the tournament was to take place. Stands lined the dirt arena, which was recessed into a hole in the ground large enough to hold a couple farmhouses. Already, the clang of swords rang out, breaking through the audience’s cheers.
Any concern Caes had that she was going to be overdressed evaporated as she took in the courtiers, who were dressed in brilliant shades of every color imaginable. The courtiers’ attention was focused on the fights—no one so much as spared her a second glance. Cylis guided her through the crowd, which parted in front of him—a normal reaction to a Soul Carver. Caes stopped walking when they poked through the mass of people and got their first glimpse of the fighters. A few seconds of watching the fight told her they were not Soul Carvers, yet that didn’t mean they lacked skill—they would’ve been great competition for Ardinani fighters, as best as Caes could judge such things.
“Come now,” Cylis growled, the hint of earlier civility gone. “The emperor is expecting you. He invited you directly. You must approach him first.”
Of course.
Caes nodded and followed Cylis through the crowd. Caes’s heart leaped into her mouth when they passed Alair, who was dressed as regally as the rest of the court. For a long moment, they looked at each other, until Alair turned away and lost himself in the crowd.
And then Caes realized Cylis was staring at her like she was daft. Cylis’s eyes flickered over to where Alair had been standing. What did Cylis think he saw? Did it matter?
“You can stare at the nobles later,” Cylis said, gently grabbing Caes’s hand. Caes suppressed a shriek at his icicle hands and followed him. “Come on. I want to place some bets before the Soul Carvers start.”
Far too soon for Caes’s liking, Cylis brought Caes before the emperor, who had an empty high-backed wooden chair at his side. Seda sat a few seats away, speaking with other nobles—and Desmin. Neither of them did more than give her a disdainful sneer. Hopefully it stayed that way.
Caes curtsied to Emperor Barlas Tuncer and spoke the formalities, all while the dour emperor paid scant attention, his interest taken by the fights.
“Sit,” the emperor said, tapping the empty seat, still not looking away from the fight. “Watch with me.”
Caes turned to Cylis, who nodded impatiently. This wasn’t good. No matter what happened. The best outcome was the court would mercilessly dissect this and gossip. That was the best outcome, for sitting next to the conqueror of kingdoms. A man who found executions as amusing as a play. Caes quickly glanced to one side—Seda made no attempt to hide her glare. If only Caes were somewhere else. Anywhere else.
As Caes moved to the chair at the emperor’s side, the emperor said, “Soul Carver, you may go.” Cylis bowed to the emperor and left, but not before giving Caes one last concerned glance. Caes’s heart raced. What would happen if her eye exposed itself here? Would the emperor even give her a chance to explain? Or would she be thrown to the warriors and dealt with instantly?
“You’ve not had a chance to see our Soul Carvers fight, have you?” the emperor mused.
“No, Your Augustness.” Sweat was beading down Caes’s breasts and back.
“In all your research, have you heard how they came to be?”
“Some, Your Augustness.” Caes swallowed. “My reading has been focused on the goddess, but the Soul Carvers have been more than accommodating if I have questions. Thank you for sending them to me.”
The emperor ignored her last comment. “It’s about time you see them fight. They’re a marvel—Karima has truly blessed us.” The emperor turned to Caes. “Too bad Shirla didn’t do the same, hmm?”
“Ardinan’s loss is Malithia’s gain.”
The emperor’s mouth curled. “True. Very true. The other kingdoms have no warriors to compare—almost makes it too easy.”
“May I ask a question, Your Augustness?” Caes learned these past weeks that the emperor did not like those he spoke with to turn mute. He liked questions, so long as they carried flattery.
“Of course. Ask anything.” The emperor was reminiscent of a benevolent grandfather, but Caes wasn’t fooled.
“Soul Carvers have existed for centuries—”
“Almost a thousand years.”
“Why were you only the second Malithian ruler to take the step of creating an empire? It seems that is what Karima intended, by giving Malithia such a powerful weapon.”
The emperor smiled—Caes had chosen her question well. “In truth—Malithia’s former rulers were distracted. Weak. Could barely manage their families, their lords, so they never turned their attention outward. Where my father, and then I, realized turning attention outward was how to keep this lot in line. My father, Cyprian III, conquered Benchan and Artonia. I went on to add Tithra, Miros, Cyvid, and finally Ardinan to the empire. Do you know how many favors and riches conquering lands like that gives? Makes it much easier to reward good service—and keep the right families happy.”
“I understand, Your Augustness.” The emperor had a point. The promise of a lucrative governorship or estate in a foreign kingdom would be plenty to keep most in line. But what was Malithia going to do once it extended too far? Did Malithia have enough military might, should all the kingdoms rebel from its rule at once?
That was not a question Caes was going to ask.
Caes followed the emperor’s lead and let the conversation lapse and gave her full attention to the fight, all while she tried to ignore the gawking nobles. Tried to ignore Seda and Desmin’s stares—hells, the two of them were a pair of plague rats.
“You’re silent,” the emperor observed.
“Your Augustness?”
“You haven’t anything else to say?”
“I am sorry, Your Augustness. I just haven’t seen anyone fight like them.”
The emperor hummed in agreement. “Wait until it’s the Soul Carvers’ turn. They fight next.” The emperor motioned to a servant to pour him more wine. “I made sure my girls knew a little about how to fight too. Do they do such things in Ardinan?”
“No. Absolutely not. The only weapon noblewomen are given is a knitting needle.”
The emperor laughed and took a drink from his now-full goblet. “Fools. It makes sense for princesses to be able to defend themselves. Right, Seda?”
