Serpent's Mark (Snakesblood Saga Book 1)

by Beth Alvarez

  He grunted and twisted as if to shrug her off.

  “Besides,” Lumia sighed, “would things be any different if you hadn’t joined me?” She reached around and touched the back of his hand. Her fingertips lingered over the scar there for longer than he liked.

  “Yes.” Daemon pulled away from her affections.

  “You were built for war, Daemon.” Her voice hardened. “Your creator wanted you for your strength and that alone. The mages only wished to take advantage of you. They never saw there was a man trapped inside that body. They never even tried to see there was a mind.”

  He turned his head and glared at her with one baleful violet eye.

  “You are not the cold-blooded monster they wished you to be. You’re stronger, better. Better than them. You are perfect, my love.” She pressed her cheek to the back of his shoulder as her hand slid around to reach for his mask. He caught her by the wrist and she wriggled her fingers with a smirk.

  “I’m not in the mood for games,” he growled.

  “And I am not playing,” she replied. “Stay loyal, pet, and I will give you power. All you are owed and more. If they wish to see a monster, then that is what we shall show them. A beast, a monster, a tyrant king.” She laughed, the sound all too pleasant for the weight of the things they discussed.

  Daemon thought of pushing her away. Lumia was the one who had ordered him to lead the raid; the blood should have been on her hands, not his. But then his thoughts turned to the shackles that mages had threatened him with years before, and the memory scattered whatever feelings of rebellion had stirred. “I am loyal,” he managed, though he had to force his voice to remain steady. He’d heard the oath from other men countless times, but saying the words himself nearly made his tongue curl. “I am an obedient servant. I will do as my queen commands me.”

  Lumia smiled, a cold gleam in her eyes. “The raid was your first test, pet. You’ve proven your worth better than I could have imagined. You now lead all my armies,” she whispered, nestling her face into his dark hair and breathing deeply. “My General Daemon.”

  The words made him shiver. She chuckled.

  Uneasy, he turned his head. “There is another matter I wanted to address, about Tren—” he started, but her finger pressed to his lips beneath his mask. It took effort to restrain his frustration, but he knew better than to disobey.

  “Come, my pet. That’s enough talk for tonight.” Curving her body against his, she pulled him between the crimson silk sheets of her bed.

  King Kifelethelas leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin as he read the missive a second time. The crest that had accompanied it lay on his desk. It wasn’t even a decent quality of jade; there were too many inclusions and striations of other stone. Its front bore a crude carving that resembled a scorpion, the back etched with lettering from the mainland. It was a design he’d seen many times in Alwhen’s markets before the border between kingdoms was closed, and it had remained popular among more rebellious Giftless factions. Its arrival in one of his border villages was troubling enough.

  At least the letter wasn’t difficult to understand. Likely penned by a border sentry, it contained none of the fancy wordplay officers used to make themselves sound clever. If the information within it was correct, there wouldn’t be anyone of higher rank still living to send the message.

  Armored men had ransacked the border village of Charth and slaughtered peasants and soldiers alike. That was all it said. Border skirmishes were not unusual, but a raid of the violent extent described in the letter was something Kifel couldn’t recall happening before.

  Weary, he rubbed his eyes. Had it even been a week since he’d left the Archmage’s office? He’d already sent word to the rest of the border outposts and received messages in response from each. Not a single border station had seen an army move in from the east. But the very edge of the ruins sat, unguarded, on Giftless lands. The ruins, where tradition and legend deemed the land sacred. Where neither he nor Relythes, the king in the east, could claim ownership. Where they couldn’t have any eyes.

  The temple was as close to the ruins as it could be. Founded partially under the pretense of training mages to serve both kingdoms on the island, it had been Kifel’s way of putting eyes where he wasn’t supposed to have any. But those eyes were not looking where they should, and if Envesi would not uphold her half of the bargain, why should he support the temple? Mages were useful, no doubt, but there was no reason they couldn’t be trained in the chapter houses scattered across his lands. Kifel twisted the missive into a roll again and took the jade crest from the table as he cast a glance to the page by the door.

  “Send word to the court mages,” Kifel ordered as he pushed himself from his chair. “Have them prepare a Gate to Kirban Temple immediately.”

  The boy nodded and scurried away before Kifel reached the door.

  The halls of Castle Ilmenhith loomed empty ahead of him, though the solstice would see the palace filled to bursting with nobles, mages, and soldiers. Reservations for the traveling mages would have to be made with the inns ahead of time, he reminded himself. The missive and crest in his hand soured his mood, but he couldn’t allow them to distract from the menial tasks that still required his attention.

  The crackling portal was waiting when Kifel arrived. He kept a room set aside specifically for Gating, a small parlor with a stone archway constructed in the middle. All unnecessary, the mages assured him, but it gave him peace of mind to see such powerful magic worked in a controlled environment. An image of the temple library filled the archway, almost too crisp to be real. Half a dozen mages in blue-trimmed white stood in a half-circle around the back of the Gate, their heads bowed. He needed more court mages, as well. Kifel mentally added them to the list of necessities.

  “Follow me and restore the Gate from the other side after I pass through,” he ordered as he braced himself for the short trip. “I shouldn’t be gone long.”

  Moving through a Gate was always disconcerting. It seemed like there should have been some sort of uncomfortable tingle or prickle as he passed through the portal. From what he understood, that was precisely what mages felt. With no awakened Gift to speak of—ironic, for the king of the Eldani—Kifel felt nothing at all as he stepped from his palace to the temple’s library. Traveling such distance in a single step was unnerving in its own right, though the way it made the hair stand on the back of his neck was the least of his concerns.

  The library was empty, which was fortunate enough, given that he was hardly in the mood to deal with unwanted attention. Kifel had asked more than once for an anchor point to be placed in the Archmage’s office. More than once, the request had been ignored. Without an anchor, a Gate could only be passed through in one direction. If cooperative mages could be found at a destination, Kifel typically relied on them to return him to the palace. With his temper on edge, he trusted only his own mages. They followed him through the portal and arranged themselves in the library to wait.

  The trip up the stairs to Envesi’s office was short. Her door stood partway open to let a breeze circulate through the upper floors. Kifel didn’t bother to knock.

  If Envesi noticed his presence, she gave no indication of it. She didn’t look up from the papers that covered her desk, her quill scratching tidy notes on the edges of a page. Kifel’s jaw tightened. He crossed the room in broad strides and cast the jade crest onto her notes. Its edge knocked the quill from her hand.

  “We only just discussed the border, and today I receive word that one of my outposts was ransacked by men pouring from the ruins you’re supposed to be guarding.” He kept his words as neutral as he could, despite the itch of irritation that crawled between his shoulder blades. “Aside from rather interesting timing, given our last conversation, is it not concerning to think an entire army of raiders could slip past you without notice?”

  Her eyes did not leave the papers. For a moment, he wasn’t certain she even saw the crest. The long silence that met his question f
ueled his agitation. Little quirks were still what bothered him most, but her skill at ignoring him was rising quickly through the ranks.

  But the Archmage did move, eventually, resting her elbows on the edge of the table and steepling her fingers together. “Are you sure of it?”

  The question made Kifel snort and he gestured to the carved disk on the table. “What do you think?” he almost snapped. “There’s only one way they could have gotten onto my lands without notice.”

  Envesi arched one fine white brow as she took the emblem and turned it over in hand. “There’s no mistaking what happened, I only ask why you think negligence on the part of my mages caused it.”

  “I trust my subjects.” Kifel’s eyes narrowed. Regardless of what power she had, he was king. She would do well to remember his rank. “And I trust my soldiers. If what they’re saying is true, then it means the situation here has already gotten out of hand.”

  Her thin lips twitched into a frown and the Archmage laid down the carving. She tucked her hands into the wide, snowy sleeves of her robes as she folded her arms over her chest. “What is it you are accusing me of, my liege?”

  “You swore to me that if anything happened, you would let me know.” His voice went cold and his emerald eyes hardened. “I consider this something, Envesi. I would like to know why you’ve said nothing to me. You stay here for a reason, and if you cannot keep matters under your thumb, I will not hesitate to find someone else to watch over this mess of a temple you started.”

  “Did it ever cross your mind that I could be unaware of the situation?” She gave a slow shrug, leaning back in her chair. “I am not omnipresent, Kifel. Do you wish me to stare out the windows all day, or study matters you place on my desk?”

  “I do not allow you to run this temple and be unaware. You know the reason you were given this land. You know why you have the funding you have. I need someone stationed outside the ruins, to keep an eye on matters, to keep me informed in case something like this happened.” His tone dropped low. “This problem is of your creation, mind you.”

  “I fail to see how a mere band of thieves could threaten our king.” Envesi did not roll her eyes, but Kifel thought she looked close to it.

  “You are treading a fine line, Envesi.” He took the jade crest from the table and absently slipped it into a pocket. “Now prove you have a handle on the situation, or I will handle it myself, if I have to tear down half the ruins to do it. Fail me again and you lose everything. Understand?”

  Envesi bowed her head in some mockery of graciousness. “As you wish. These bandits will be brought to accord.”

  “I am in need of more court mages, as well.” Now that he thought of it, it had been several years since a new mage had joined those at the palace. Where she sent all of them after they graduated, he didn’t know.

  She visibly suppressed a sigh. Good of her to mind her manners for a change. “The students you have entrusted to me are being given the finest training possible. Several will be ready to graduate within the year. Though I ask more time to rein in your favorite student before I turn him loose in your armies.”

  “Granted,” Kifel nodded, though the single word carried a bitter undertone.

  “I am grateful, Your Majesty.” She rose from her chair to sweep into an elegant bow. “Rest assured, you will not be disappointed again.”

  Kifel eyed her for a long moment, his fingers tracing the twisted hilt of his sword. His hand stilled when he caught himself doing it. “Good,” he said, finally. “See to it I’m not.”

  He felt the weight of Envesi’s eyes as he strode out of her tower, and he could not help the grim expression that drew itself upon his face.

  Lumia wasn’t certain where Daemon went to sleep, as his quarters were usually empty, but she didn’t care. Before his hand had been branded, there was the possibility he would try to escape. Now, she doubted he could. The mark she had given him granted her more control than he realized. It was not the first time she’d formed a blood-bond, though she was inclined to say it was the most fulfilling.

  She found him fascinating. Daemon was a far cry from being human or Eldani, though his effort to hide scale-covered flesh when not in her presence didn’t escape her notice. He had the form of a man, at least, and when he bound his hands and feet in wrappings and found a way to conceal his claws, he might have passed for one. In the privacy of her chambers, though, she savored everything that made him different. She enjoyed the unnatural strength in his body, reveled in how powerless he made her feel beneath the crushing weight of his form. Only rarely was she left unsatisfied when he excused himself from her chambers. He had not disappointed tonight.

  Lumia lounged in the chair at her desk after he took his leave. She could feel him, though faintly enough to know he was no longer underground. The dim pulse of his presence grew weaker still as a stronger, nearer presence took precedence. Their bond let her know who approached before the door opened, though the angry, heavy booted steps in the hallway were enough to tell her that. A saccharine smile curved her lips as she trained her eyes on the books spread across the desk.

  “General Daemon?” The words were half demand, half growl.

  “A pleasure to see you, Tren, as always. News certainly travels fast, doesn’t it?” Lumia ran her fingers down the ragged spine of a book and chuckled. “Did he tell you himself, or did you have an ear pressed to my door?”

  “You’re making a mistake,” Tren snarled. He stopped only inches behind her chair.

  “Well, I didn’t ask for your opinion, did I.” She craned her neck to look at him over her shoulder. “Goodness, Tren, learn to give people chances.”

  His breath hitched as he inhaled and his fingers curled around the hilt of his sword. “I am the only leader your army needs. My word should be enough. No chances, no outside trust. It is an outsider and a risk, whether or not you’ll admit it.”

  “He was an outsider, but he has never been an it. Mind your temper, or you’ll be doing worse than losing rank to him.” She picked up a book and paged through it with feigned interest. His anger simmered in the back of her mind. It was entertaining to fan the flame.

  “I don’t care if you’re queen of the ruin-folk, the Eldani, whatever it is you want to become.” Tren shook his head and set to pacing. “You’re being foolish and I won’t stand for it. I won’t let you risk what we’ve built by putting that thing into my position of command!”

  “Daemon is perfectly responsible,” Lumia replied calmly. “He has a home among our people and he’s trained for strategy and combat.”

  “This raid was his first actual combat experience, and we all know how well he handled that.”

  She scoffed. “Don’t pretend I can’t see your jealousy. He’s younger, stronger, more talented. Our people fear and respect him. You might have sway over the rabble, but the respect the officers had for you has been waning for years.”

  That needled him. Lumia sensed more than she saw the way his shoulders bunched and his step faltered.

  Not yet satisfied, she pushed a little farther. “You’re jealous of my plans to put him on a surface throne instead of you, is that it?” A demure smile flitted across her features as her eyes skimmed him from head to toe. “Or is it simply because I could never look at you the way I look at him?”

  Tren had appointed himself as leader of her army long before she made use of him. With his squared jaw and strong features, and his dark hair and coarse goatee trimmed close in a soldier’s style, he still looked the part. It was clear that heading an army was not enough to satisfy him. Her eyes settled on the scar in his hand; a different mark than what Daemon wore, but her mark, nonetheless. He’d sworn a blood oath to her as well, though she suspected he meant to defy it.

  “I wouldn’t want it,” he spat, shaking his head in disgust. “Your affection for him is sick.”

  Lumia rose and brushed past him on her way to her bed. “He’s grown a lot since I first caught him trespassing here, you know. Not t
hat I expect you to know what he is.”

  “A monster,” Tren said.

  The corners of her mouth twitched, but she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of getting a rise out of her. “The mages may have discarded him for the way his form was twisted, but he is well worth our time. He’s only beginning to make his abilities blossom as they should, no thanks to those Gifted wretches set up on our borders.” She snorted. “Daemon’s power does not know the limits that I do. His is raw chaos. Unfathomable, perhaps limitless. With time, he could become the greatest mage to ever walk the earth.”

  A look of disbelief worked its way across Tren’s face, followed by deep thoughtfulness. He lifted a hand to stroke his beard. “A war machine,” he murmured slowly. “Which means...”

  “That the stories of the ancient mages are true.” A devious spark glittered in her eyes. “So please, offer him a little more respect. He is on our side, after all. My plans and purpose remain true to our cause. I simply see no reason not to use their own tools against them.”

  His eyes narrowed as he digested the new information.

  “Now,” she sighed, gesturing to the door. “I grow tired. I’d like to sleep. Run along. Perhaps sharing your words of experienced wisdom will help keep Daemon’s new power from going his head.”

  Tren gritted his teeth, but he still bowed. “I will see to it, Majesty.” He clutched the hilt of his sword tight enough to turn his knuckles white and murmured in tones only just audible as he made for the door. “Rest assured, I will.”

  His anger tickled in the back of her head, and Lumia smiled.

  8

  Leash