by Sasha Nanua
I concentrate the way Shima does when she’s sniffing out a meal, homing in on that scent of dirt and grime I could smell on the girl from a meter away.
“This way!” I call out to Amir, and we veer left, into the path at the edge of the jungle.
A nearby tavern looms two stories tall, all wooden boards and half-fallen roofing. The sign plastered to the front is illegible. Entering such an establishment would normally be far beneath me—the thought of it makes my heart race.
Voices form a riot of noise behind us, and I know we haven’t much time. It’s the tavern or the woods, and neither option looks very pleasant.
“In here,” I tell Amir, rushing forward. We head into the tavern, pausing to collect a breath when we’re through the doorway. This place stinks of wine and unpleasantries I have never before encountered. People hug their drinks to their chests and peer over their cups with beady eyes. All too aware of my palace clothing, I tuck my cloak around my body and follow Amir forward, keeping my eyes on the creaking wooden floors. I sidestep a puddle of spilled wine, wrinkling my nose at the smell. Thankfully, the grumble of the tavern starts up again, and the din of yelling from outside fades into the distance. Words float all around us, peppering the air with gossip.
“Heard the Charts came through Kali yesterday. Wrecked half the village.”
“Better than paying those taxes,” another responds.
A barkeep narrows his eyes at us suspiciously.
Amir audibly gulps. “I know this place. This is where we last met. Me and . . . and the girl,” he clarifies to me in a whisper. His words are sorrowful, woven with pain and loss. Who is this girl, and what could she have meant to him?
My stomach swirls, but I step toward the barkeep. “Good day, sir,” I say, sure to keep my voice low.
He nods, eyebrows tucked into two dark lines. “Can I help ya?”
“Sanya,” Amir says as if cursing, slapping one of the jewels from the necklace I gave him earlier onto the counter. “She here?”
The man eyes the jewel like he’s never seen anything more valuable in his life. “What’s it to ya?”
“We need to speak with her,” I demand. “Now.”
“Ha.” The man presses a hand to his belly, eyes flashing with anger. “She works here. I told her to stop making friends on her shift breaks.” He rolls his eyes. “Sanya!”
A girl—the one I saw just minutes ago at the bazaar—trudges to the front, scowling. Her skin is a shade darker than mine, unrelentingly scorched by the Abai sun. She wears a green chunni, and a few strands of light-brown hair poke out from behind it.
The girl halts midstride, the same bow and arrow clutched in her palm. Her eyes land on Amir’s, and her whole body turns rigid.
“You,” she whispers. Tears fill her eyes, but she blinks them back, face turning to stone. “How’d you find me? Where have you been?” Her head turns sharply toward me. “And who’s this? Making new friends, are we? Pretending your family never existed?”
The tavern falls silent, watching the conversation unfold before their eyes. Some munch greedily on their meals as they gawk, like an audience to a show.
“Sanya,” Amir calls just as the girl rushes to the back of the tavern and out into the wilderness. He drops his head into his hands. “Raja’s beard.”
“Who was that?” I murmur, a hundred eyes pricking my skin.
Amir slowly lifts his face. “That,” he says in a whisper-soft tone, “was my sister.”
13
Ria
I wake to the sound of a hiss.
My eyes fly open to the sight of a three-foot-long green-blue snake uncoiling before me. “Raja’s beard!” I shriek. I throw off the bedding, scrambling out of the bed and half landing on my rear. I rush over to the window. “Stay back!”
That’s when I finally notice the purple-bathed room I’m standing in. This couldn’t’ve been the bed I slept on. No, I slept on the street as usual, covered in a fine layer of Nabh’s dust, tucked under the cloak of night. I don’t sleep in fine silks, or a palace fit for royals—
Sharp pain cuts through my head. I press a hand against my temple to suppress the pang, but instead of helping, it only makes the ache sharper. In a snap, the pain is gone, replaced with a feeling like a stretched tightrope running through my brain. Like someone’s latched onto me without invitation and pulled.
Did you know identical twins come from the same egg? a voice says.
“Skies above,” I whimper. That voice is deeply rooted in my mind, yet I know it can’t belong to a human.
I reach for the nearest thing on a vanity—a handheld mirror—and brandish it like a sword. The serpent appears over the bedside railing. Its scales ruffle as if annoyed by my presence. Its eyes swivel all over my body.
A flood of memories hit me: Mama Anita, telling me of the royals’ affinity for snakes. How, as descendants of the Snake Master, they bond with serpents and respect them as their familiars. I think of those snakes I first saw in the terrarium when I entered the palace last night. When I was younger, I heard snakes’ voices in my nightmares, thinking it was a product of my imagination.
I glance up, and it’s at that moment—when the snake smiles—that I lose all feeling in my legs.
You catch on pretty slowly, the snake says, for a girl who pickpockets for a living.
I drop the mirror and rush out of Rani’s room, leaning over the nearest banister. Breathe, Ria—
From the corner of my eye, I see the snake slither out of Rani’s room. An icy shiver cools at the base of my spine. Fear plants my feet to the floor, but I manage to turn and grasp the banister behind me.
“Am I delusional?” It would’ve been nice if Rani had told me she had a pet snake.
We are not pets, the snake corrects. We are familiars, and we are as connected to your blood as the Snake Master himself.
Familiar. Snake Master. Magic. They all exist?
“W-what’s a familiar?”
The snake ponders this. Let me think . . . Ah, yes. A Guide to Snake Magic, chapter two: “A snake is no object but a living being. Once a snake and human form a unique companionship, they may form a blood bond through a ceremony called the Bonding Ceremony, when a royal selects a snake to be their familiar for life. The snake then injects a drop of venom into the royal’s blood—”
“I didn’t ask for a history lesson.” Still, I shiver at the sound of that—the Bonding Ceremony. “Did you and Rani do that?”
Five years ago, the snake responds. The ceremony is more than a tradition; it is a symbol of trust between human and snake. The snake injects just enough venom into the human’s wrist to form a heightened bond but not fatal. Of course, snakespeakers like yourself have a certain immunity to venoms already.
Another piece of information Rani conveniently left out before her hasty exit.
Sharp steps echo from down the hall. The red-haired lady, Amara, comes into view. She grabs chai from a servant trailing behind her. She takes a sip and spits it out. The servant jumps.
“This is cold as ice! Get me a fresh cup—don’t just gawk!” She thrusts the cup back at the servant, who’s just a young girl. Stiff-backed, she rushes away. I recognize her from yesterday. Aditi, the girl with the flying braids.
That’s Amara’s personal servant, the snake says darkly. And you can call me Shima.
Rani’s words from last night flood back to me. Just watch out for Shima.
Oh, yeah, thanks for the warning about the three-foot snake!
Shima slithers up my arm. Her scales are smooth as sand slipping from my fingers, and unexpectedly warm. I stumble back, wide-eyed. I want to collapse to the floor. My whole body quakes. “Don’t be scared,” I tell myself, “she’s not talking to you, snakes don’t talk, don’t be scared—”
Who do you think is talking to you? Shima laughs. We share a connection, you and me. Your twin and me. Rani has spent many years learning snake magic; yours seems as natural to you as your thieving.
&nb
sp; “What do you mean?” I whisper.
That crevice in your mind. I slipped right into it. It is an opening into the magic buried deep, the snake continues. You and Rani are both snakespeakers—able to wield snake magic—yet you are opposites.
I’d rather greet a tiger than talk to a serpent. Then again, if this snake is Rani’s familiar, and she knows about me, she might know . . . other things.
The snake continues, I have sensed it in Rani’s blood. A missing half. Have you ever felt a deep connection to serpents? An affinity to spill lies? A tendency toward stories instead of truth?
My mind whirrs. I have. Stories have always been in my blood. “So the vision was true. I’m a royal. I’ve got . . . snake magic.”
Yessss, Shima hisses.
“You’ve known I was alive this whole time? You know what happened to me?”
The latter I am unsure of, the snake replies. But if I were you, I would—
More clacking heels in the hall. “Come, come,” interrupts Amara, approaching me and taking hold of my arm with sharp nails. She pulls me down the helical staircase, and that thread between Shima and me loosens. She unwinds from my arm. I throw a desperate glance back up at the snake as we descend, but she’s gone.
I turn back to the bottom of the staircase, where I see Saeed standing. He takes me by the hand and I bristle, but he doesn’t seem concerned. As if my lukewarm greeting is . . . normal.
“Rani,” says Amara, “there is much to be prepared in time for the engagement party. I expect you to follow Saeed to your lessons and attend your fittings tomorrow after the luncheon.” She eyes my nightclothes. “And for the love of Amran, change first.”
Amara sweeps away before I can say a damn thing, and I soothe the faint depressions on my skin from where she held me. I don’t know what Rani thinks of Amara, but she sure seems full of it to me.
Rani’s betrothed leans in and murmurs, “You played the part well,” against the shell of my ear.
Played the . . . does he know?
Does he know I’m not Rani?
My heart flutters.
I shrug. Answer with not-an-answer. “In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t hard.”
Saeed’s brows knit together. “So you don’t want to stop the engagement after all.”
Huh?
I open and close my mouth like a fish. Rani wanted to stop the engagement?
Saeed sighs. “You’re a sea of confusion, Princess.”
My stomach falls. So he doesn’t know I’m Ria.
I didn’t know I had a twin. Neither did Rani. No one around here seemed to know it, either. Has it been kept from everyone by that skies-damned raja?
An idea slowly takes root in my mind. If Saeed can’t tell the difference between Rani and me, that means I can mold him, manipulate him. Then maybe he can help me get answers.
I control my features and shape my lips into a soft smile. I peer up through my lashes. All the hallmarks of a princess, right? “I thought it over last night. I was wrong,” I tell him.
He raises a brow. “About?”
“You know,” I say softly, hating how vulnerable my voice sounds. But it doesn’t matter. I’m reeling him in, and I don’t even realize how quick he is to bring his thumb to my lips and lean down for a—
My stomach swoops. Raja’s beard, no! He’s Rani’s betrothed, not mine. “Look—it’s a perfect day to stroll around the palace. Don’t you want to take your future queen for a walk?”
Saeed half grins, one brow arched. “I know you don’t want lessons, Rani, but the queen would like for us to continue them before the engagement party.”
The only lessons I’ve ever needed were Amir’s—how to slide a piece of jewelry into my hands with a whisper, stuff rupees into my empty pockets. I could steal before I met him, but he turned me into a near professional. Still, if I have to get through this lesson to find out more about my and Rani’s birth, I’ll do it. I’ve impersonated enough girls before to get what I want. This should be no different.
After I quickly change, Saeed leads me through extravagant dining halls and past decadent tearooms. As I’m distracted keeping an eye out for any jewels, we stop abruptly by a wide set of gilded double doors. He swings them open.
“I thought you might want to take your lessons here,” Saeed tells me. “The terrarium was once your favorite part of the palace, if I recall correctly.”
I chance a step into the room, then stop in my tracks like I’ve seen a Chart. There aren’t any soldiers—but there are banyan trees swirling high up to the ceiling, a glass pane separating me from the folds of nature. It’s like a pocket of the Moga Jungle right here in the palace. Snakes hang lazily from the trees while lizards leap from branch to branch.
I yelp. Raja’s beard, this is the terrarium I saw yesterday.
Before I can collapse, Saeed takes hold of my arm and pulls me toward him. My eyes find his, a startling gold in the sunlight filtering through the room. There’s something about them that clings to me, calls to me. Is it the thief in me, drawn to their luster, like coins? No. Somehow, it feels like something else.
I erase the thought, forcing my weak knees to hold as he guides me through the terrarium. I shield my eyes from the reptiles, even as the sound of swaying branches brings me a greater sense of familiarity than the barren silence of the palace halls.
It’s just one lesson. One lesson surrounded by snakes—
“Physics or astronomy?” he asks. Neither feels important right now.
“How about history?” I ask. At least that might give me some clue about my birth, this palace, this kingdom.
Saeed chortles. “You despise history.”
“Maybe I’ve decided to become more informed.”
Saeed’s lips tilt into a pleased but surprised smile, like he hadn’t expected to hear that. “History it is.”
We pause under a dome-shaped ceiling on the far side of the terrarium. I find a singular chair, a desk, and a podium holding several books. Saeed approaches the podium and sifts through the books until he finds the one he wants. He cracks open the leather-bound spine.
“Shall we pick up where we last left off? Chapter three, the Rao Monarchy . . .” He clears his throat. “A few centuries after the Great Masters’ Battle, Kaama’s king, known reverently as the Rao Raja, was—”
He looks up and notices I haven’t taken a seat. “Something wrong?”
“N-no.” Except for one snake that keeps eyeing me from behind the glass. I quickly veer away and, without looking, take my seat.
I let out a piercing shriek.
“Shima!” I cry and fall flat on my butt for the second time this morning. I cast aside my panic in favor of annoyance. This snake was on my seat. And it likes to embarrass me, apparently.
Better look before you sit, Princess, the snake says. She slithers off my chair and waits patiently next to my desk.
“Rani!” Saeed calls, rushing over to me and taking my hands. “Are you all right?”
He checks me for bruises. I wave him away. Looks like all I bruised was my pride.
“Here.” He helps me up, perching a hand on my lower back. “Better?”
Warmth overwhelms the space his fingers touch. I glance away. “Yeah. But I want that snake gone.”
“I don’t understand; Shima always sits in on our lessons.”
Oh, perfect. “Never mind. I’m fine. Perfectly fine.” I glare at the snake before examining the chair, and finally, I sit.
Saeed returns to the podium. “As I was saying . . .”
He tells me a story of the Rao monarch, one of Kaama’s earliest rajas, who was a fierce soldier and loyal leader—if a greedy ruler.
“Rumor was, Rao wanted to invade Abai and colonize the land,” Saeed says. “But Abai’s raja did not reprimand the Kaaman king. Instead, Raja Arnav of Abai decided it was time to settle the dispute between Abai and Kaama.”
The same way you need to settle this dispute with Rani and Saeed, Shima hisses. What i
s she talking about? Saeed had mentioned something earlier about Rani calling off the engagement, or at least trying to. What’s happened between them?
“So Raja Arnav, diligent as ever, proposed something that would unify the lands and promote trade and travel.” He turns the book to face me. Sketched in ink is a bridge, connecting the two lands. It’s an interesting thought, uniting two kingdoms that despise one another with something that could help them both.
“Despite their intentions,” Saeed continues, “the bridge was never fully built. There was too much suspicion by nobles and villagers alike. And since then, Abai and Kaama have never tried to restore peace until they saw the Creator’s ire and proposed the Hundred-Year Truce.”
“I’ve heard about Raja Arnav,” I say. But Mama Anita taught the story to me differently.
“I would hope so, Princess.” Saeed’s tone is amused. “Given that we’ve been studying Kaama and Abai’s past feuds for the last few months. Not that you’ve been the most attentive pupil. . . .”
“No, but you’ve got a part wrong. It wasn’t Kaama’s king who wanted to invade. It was Abai’s raja who wanted to invade Kaama,” I clarify.
Saeed quirks a brow. “Where did you hear this?”
“Umm . . . I . . .” I glance away, right at Shima, and something unexpected starts to happen. Her scales change color, redden like my cheeks. Flustered, I continue, “The book is wrong. Abai’s king was the hateful one, and Kaama’s the peacekeeper.”
“Explain.” Saeed closes the book with a thud, but his gaze is on mine, and a smile turns up the corners of his mouth that emboldens me to continue.
“Stories have different perspectives,” I say, “depending on who’s telling them.”
Saeed shakes his head. “I’m . . . impressed, Rani. You’ve grasped today’s entire lesson, far ahead of plan.”
“I did?” I squeak, standing.
He nods, abandoning his post at the podium and approaching me. “History isn’t all facts. It’s largely written by the victorious or the powerful. It’s lore, it’s stories, it’s moments of the present that shape our futures. Like . . .” He blushes, then shakes his head.