Sisters of the Snake

by Sasha Nanua

  I nod, my tongue too numb to respond.

  When the queen is gone, Jasmin and Neela keep at my side, fixing my chunni and lehenga. They stand there stiffly when they’re done. I don’t know if I should be ashamed of the happiness I feel at the queen’s words. I never thought I’d see my mother look at me like that. Only Mama Anita looked at me fondly, telling me I had a face as bright as the moon. Her words ring through my mind, something she told me nearly every night. I’ll always be with you. From morning to night. Dusk till dawn.

  Dusk and dawn. Moon and sun. Ria and Rani.

  I find Saeed’s gaze; not taunting, the way he first looked at me. Just . . . Saeed.

  He takes my hand and pulls me into the center of the room. The crowd turns into an audience. It’s time to show off the dance we practiced together.

  We move in sync, starting with a bow to the audience, then raise ourselves at the beat of the drum. My hands twist back and forth as we spin around each other in dizzying circles. My skirts swish, a blur of red, as we meet each other again and take hold of each other’s hands. Our legs move faster now, and I stick out my hip the way we practiced. Saeed dances around me while I cock my head. Left, right . . .

  I lose myself in the dance. I forget all about Amara. Then I’m spinning so fast I trip over my feet. My breath stops. I fall back, landing on—

  Saeed. He twirls me back up, and I press my hands to his chest. This wasn’t part of the routine, but I hear a roar from the crowd.

  They’re loving it.

  We end our dance in sync, stomping our feet on the final beat. Claps echo throughout the throne room. We did it. I smile at Saeed. His is so wide, it’s like he’s never been this happy before.

  But the moment shatters when I remember what I’m doing, dancing above the Snake Pit. Pretending to be the very person Amir and I would make fun of.

  The crowd parts. Saeed’s smile slips as he notices my expression. “What happened?”

  “N-nothing.” I step away from him. “I just need some space.”

  I rush away from the crowd, past the bustles of servants and the bored stares of the Charts, until I find the nearest empty corridor.

  Saeed must know something’s up, because he trails behind me. “Rani!” He takes me by the elbow and spins me toward him until we’re chest to chest. His features, alert and worried, bring me back to reality.

  “Saeed,” I breathe. “The crowd was overwhelming.”

  Heat spreads through me as his gaze lands on mine. “I felt the same way.”

  I blink. “You do?”

  Saeed nods. We round the corner for privacy. “I wanted to celebrate our engagement, but knowing your stance on our relationship, I was worried. . . .” He blows out a breath, cheeks pink. Is he blushing? “I need to tell you something, Rani, before the night is over.”

  My lips part. I can’t keep my thoughts straight. Remembering Amir, I had felt like Ria again; dancing with Saeed, I was Rani. How can I be two different people at once?

  “The other day, in the rafters,” he begins, “I realized something.”

  My breath hitches. “Yes?”

  “We’ve known each other for a long time, and I always thought I was doing my duty, courting you the way I did. But, Rani . . . you’re beautiful. It was so easy to try and love you. It was so easy for duty to be enough. We’ve always been promised to each other. But what I felt then wasn’t love.”

  My heart stutters. I keep my fists at my sides, even though what I really want is to take his hands in mine.

  “Ever since Diwali, it’s like I’ve seen a whole new side of you,” he says, lips quirking into a smile. “You reminded me of the fun we used to have as children. You opened my mind more than I ever thought. The night we ended things between us . . . what I said was true. Loving you was my duty; it always had been. I know you were not content with the answer. But over these past several days, you’ve helped me understand that I can feel more than that. You’ve helped me realize that love doesn’t have to be about duty; it can be an adventure.”

  Adventure. That’s exactly the right word. Being on the streets was survival. Thieving was instinct. But this . . . this is a new surprise every day. A constant thrill. My heart forever leaping in my chest.

  “I’ve felt something, too,” I whisper.

  He raises my left hand and thumbs my engagement ring. “I’ve realized . . . I do love you. And you were right to be angry with me.”

  “I’m not angry,” I tell him before I fully take in his statement. Saeed loves me? Ria me?

  Kiss him, half of me says.

  He’s your sister’s betrothed, the other half thinks.

  I’m a storm of opposites: raging fires and frozen seas.

  Saeed plants his palm on my cheek, thumb brushing my lips as he leans in.

  I suck in a breath as his lips reach mine.

  And when they do, they’re soft as silk. Smooth as honey. He tastes sweeter than ripened mangoes.

  This is nothing like days ago, on our horseback ride when we tried to call up Saeed’s magic; that was nervousness, heated lips and magic-warmed skin. Now? I pull back gently. Saeed looks at me like he can see past the frilly clothes and find the real me: the small birthmark beside my eye; the sallowness of my cheeks; the fine hairs at the crown of my scalp, dipping like an arrowhead. The thief. Everything that defines me as Ria, not Rani.

  He grazes a hand across my jaw, inching me closer, and our lips meet again. This time, it’s insistent, like a fire lighting in my belly. Like I’m truly in a princess’s skin. A girl whose fate isn’t written in the stars but forged with a sword.

  I’m lost for words, for thought, for anything but his touch. For a moment, this act as Rani, this charade . . . it’s not a performance.

  “Praise the seven Masters,” Amara huffs. “There’s your kiss.”

  We jump apart. Amara stands at the end of the corridor, a few buzzing aunties close behind. Her mouth twists in a sardonic grin.

  “What a cute boy!” one says.

  “Sweet kisser,” adds another. “Lucky girl.”

  I press my fingers to my lips. Shame burns my cheeks. It’s a line I never should’ve crossed. How much had Amara seen?

  “Mother, what are you—” Saeed begins, but Amara’s stare is quick to silence him. Her eyes snare onto mine now, like a hunter to a rabbit. The corner of her mouth flicks up, red as blood.

  “I—I should go,” I tell Saeed, catching his gaze. His lips are spread apart slightly, and he blinks, lost. I slip past the women, all of whom are now laughing amid the music.

  Tears rise as I rush as far away from the laughter as I can. My head and heart tangle in knots. The way Saeed looked at me, like he could see through me . . .

  No. I’m not some show for the women to fawn over. Saeed and I kissed because it felt right, not because it was a performance. Right?

  I coil my hands into fists, spinning to find an alcove where a pink-scaled snake sits.

  “Oh!” I cry. “Shima, you scared me.” I wipe away my tears as fast as I can, but the snake is smarter than that.

  Emotions aren’t as easy to define as we thought, are they? she tells me. I felt your confusion, your . . . desire. I knew I’d find you here.

  “I thought snakes weren’t supposed to slither around during parties.”

  Contrary to popular belief, snakes are often the life of the party, so showing up where we’re least invited only makes things more interesting.

  I harrumph. I’m lost in a place of in-between, caught between two worlds I can’t decipher.

  “I shouldn’t even be part of this engagement,” I blurt, voice low in the emptiness of the palace corridors. “Rani doesn’t love Saeed anymore.”

  Where is Rani when I need her? When all I want to do is spill my real feelings to her? Saeed, Amara, Aditi, this whole mess . . . Is that what sisters do—chat, give each other advice? I never knew I wanted that so much.

  I wish there was some way I could talk to her, tell her
Amara knows I’m not Rani. It’s not like there’re some kind of messenger snakes to get mail around in Abai.

  Wait . . .

  Shima’s gaze locks with mine. Concocting another plan, are we, Princess?

  I glance left and right, but the halls are empty. I wipe my tears with a quick brush of my finger and sweep into the alcove. “Shima, I need your help.”

  Again? the snake prods, moving lazily upward, as if stretching in the tight space.

  “It sounds impossible,” I begin, “but . . . Rani. I want to speak with her. And you can speak to both of us, can’t you? You even knew Rani had a twin without ever meeting me.”

  There is a large distance between Rani and me, Shima explains. There is no way for me to reach her thoughts alone.

  My hope fizzles. But I think over her words again. When I bring my gaze to hers, I swear she’s almost grinning. “You said you can’t do it alone.”

  Ah, Shima says, that smile reaching her eyes. Now you’re understanding, Princess.

  “But how can we speak to each other? Is there something that could bridge our thoughts?”

  Such as? the snake inquires.

  “Our minds,” I whisper, a light flickering on. “Connected through yours. You’re the only person who can speak to us mentally, and who’s already made a blood bond with Rani. That should give you a stronger connection, right?”

  Shima ponders this. Snakespeaking is most powerful with proximity, she finally answers. Rani is far from us. But you . . .

  “Are right here,” I finish. “Us being twins—doesn’t that mean we have an innate bond, a link, stronger than any other two people?”

  That is an interesting theory, Shima says, coiling her tail. Though I must admit, I’ve never bridged two human minds before.

  “But it could be done?”

  Shima rocks her head from side to side. In a manner of speaking.

  “Which means yes.” I wipe away all thoughts of the engagement, of Amara, of Saeed. I pull all my anger and sadness and frustration and channel them into my words.

  “Help me speak to her in some way.”

  Your earrings, Shima replies.

  My mind goes blank. “Huh?” Shima doesn’t elaborate but waits expectantly.

  After a silent moment, I pull off the extravagant pair of diamond earrings. Less than two weeks ago, I was stuffing these into my pockets, gawking at the shape of the jewels. Now I barely feel their weight on my ears.

  As a possession of Rani’s, the earrings will make the mind link stronger, Shima says, like it’s common knowledge.

  “Good idea.” I squeeze the earrings in my hands and go quiet. In my mind there’s only a hum, and something like a band beginning to squeeze around my head. I focus on the pulse in my throat, beating like a mallet. I flinch when Shima wraps around my wrist, forming a reptilian armlet.

  Shima’s heartbeat flows in time with mine. My hand shakes as I clutch the earring harder.

  It is not ssstrong enough, Shima admits, uncoiling herself.

  Disappointment floods through me. I don’t just want this to work; I need this to work.

  “My first day at the palace,” I tell Shima, “you told me about a . . . ceremony? Something that connects you with Rani?”

  Yesss, Shima says, as if unsure what I’m getting at. The Bonding. It creates the blood bond I spoke of. It is a special thing, having a familiar to bind with for life.

  I imagine the snake biting into my skin, the venom pouring out of her into my veins. Would it kill me, a girl who just discovered her powers? Or would it bring Shima and I closer together? Close enough to connect me with Rani?

  Do you fear me? Shima asks.

  I can’t lie to a snake who can read my thoughts. “Yes.”

  You have to decide now, Princess. Do you want to keep living in fear, or find your future?

  I gulp, steeling myself. “I won’t stop fearing snakes,” I say. “I want to, but I can’t. Not yet. And that’s the truth.”

  Shima looks at me with solemn eyes.

  “But my fear doesn’t erase what I have to do,” I continue. “I have to be brave. I have to speak with Rani. This is the only way.”

  Shima ponders this, gaze slitted. What are you proposing, Princess?

  I shut my eyes, gulping at the thought of what I’m about to do.

  I hold my wrist out. “Do it.”

  Shima hisses, peering down at my wrist. This is a delicate process. Do you trust me?

  I hold back the fears burning in my throat. I remember her curling at my feet after seeing Mama Anita. A strange, warm comfort. “Yes,” I whisper, the truth blossoming from my lips. “I must.”

  Shima doesn’t hesitate. The puncture feels like a knife, and heat fills my veins—and then darkness rushes up to greet me.

  I gasp at the pain.

  But then I spot her in the distance. Covered in dust and jungle earth, cloaked in secrets and suspicion.

  Rani.

  28

  Rani

  I’m in a dream. Or perhaps a nightmare. Either way, the forest, the campfire—all of it is gone, as if extinguished by a sudden rainfall.

  There is only darkness.

  And a figure heading toward me.

  Like an unearthed diamond, she winks into existence. Me. An illusion, perhaps, for I am wearing an extravagant outfit, a traditional yet modern ensemble fit for a bride.

  “Rani,” her voice calls, a rougher version of my own. I stare at the girl ahead.

  Could it be?

  I press a hand to the floor, now a polished obsidian slate. It feels real, as real as the floor of the Snake Pit, but the girl before me flickers. Her cheeks are fuller now, her eyes sparkling in a way they hadn’t when we first met.

  Ria. My sister.

  She is a portrait of a true rani, wearing a lehenga that hugs her body the same way it would mine. Her face is molded with sharp cheekbones and pouted lips, a slightly hooked nose and eyes framed by long lashes.

  It takes all of two seconds for her to say, “Raja’s beard.”

  “Abai’s sun,” I reply at the same moment.

  For a second I think neither of us will move. A heartbeat passes before she rushes over to me. She stops breaths away, as if afraid to come too close.

  “Ria—how are you doing this?” My voice echoes off of nothingness, and around me, the blackness and the jungle begin to chip away. Faintly, the marbled palace halls appear, familiar and warm as a mother’s hug. A pang deep in my belly. Homesickness, perhaps. Haven’t I always dreamed of escape?

  “It’s Shima. We found a way to bridge our minds. With the Bonding Ceremony and our twin connection. Shima says she can help guide the mind link, but it won’t last long.”

  “You did the Bonding Ceremony with Shima?” I ask, incredulous. I didn’t bond with Shima until five years after my official magical training began.

  Ria’s gift must be strong . . . stronger than I ever could have imagined. The thought overwhelms me, sending a shudder through my body.

  “We don’t have much time. Rani? Are you listening?”

  “Yes, of course. It’s the night of my engagement party, isn’t it?” It seems I’m already forgetting palace life, so quickly, so . . . easily.

  Ria nods, looking solemn. “Yeah. And I know you didn’t want to go through with it. But the queen and Amara have been planning everything, making me go to fittings and—”

  “It’s fine,” I say truthfully. We might be engaged formally, but Saeed knows my true feelings. “Does anyone know about us?”

  “Shima, of course.” Ria pauses, cold creeping in her voice like a sudden Amratstanian snowfall. “And Amara.” Her voice is pinched with pain.

  “No.” I shudder at the thought of Amara’s bloodred lips and harsh gaze. “And as Father’s adviser . . .”

  “She’s been speaking with the raja,” Ria reveals, “about something called the Bloodstone. That’s what you’re searching for, aren’t you? Amara knows about it—she’s looking for it. I
think Amara is more involved in all this than we thought. She wants war as bad as the raja does, I just don’t know why.”

  First, Amara somehow knows Ria is lying. Now she’s seeking the Bloodstone? For what purpose?

  My voice chills. “Does she know we’re twins?”

  “I’m not sure,” Ria says, voice small. Suddenly her eyes pierce mine. “Are you with Amir?”

  “Yes. We’re . . . fine. With his sister’s help, we’ve pinned down the location of the Bloodstone. But the Charts are scouring the streets and villages. I fear they might locate it first.”

  “H-his sister?” Ria’s pallor lightens. “I never knew . . .”

  I frown but continue. “We’re safe, and on track to find the Bloodstone. Amir doesn’t suspect a thing about me. Mostly . . .”

  Ria raises a brow.

  “He’s seen a few differences in our attitudes,” I reveal. I don’t want to tell her about my and Amir’s fight. “Nothing major. How’s Shima?”

  It takes a moment for her response. “A real help, actually,” she says, though a hint of fear crosses her face. Her makeup is smudged on her cheek. Is that a bruise underneath?

  “Ria, what happened?”

  “It’s no big deal. Just Amara—”

  “That witch!” I cry. “Ria, you mustn’t let her get to you. Father and Mother will be outraged.”

  “If I say anything, Amara will reveal our secret to them.” Her voice shakes. What has Amara done to her? She glances around furtively. “I’ve gotta stay low.”

  “Amara is only one person,” I say. “You are a princess.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I am. I haven’t found my birth papers,” she says, voice thick. “Until I do, I don’t even exist in this palace.”

  “You do,” I reply. “You belong here.”

  “I know I belong,” she says with resolve. “But I can’t prove who I am to the raja or queen without the papers. Rani . . .” She bites her lip. “I don’t know if I’m meant to escape Abai anymore. There’s so much I need, want, to do.”

  In her eyes, I see her visions align with mine. My sister wants more for her kingdom—our kingdom—than both of us could have ever realized.