Sisters of the Snake

by Sasha Nanua

  “You don’t remember,” I realize at Father’s blank face. Which means Amara’s up to something. Something I never foresaw.

  I take a step closer to him, wrapping my hands in his. Our gazes connect. I feel my magic twining with his, the power singing in our blood.

  As snakespeakers we have a special bond, can feel each other’s magic. But it’s like his is being blocked by something. I sense it inside him, like a cloud, misty and faraway.

  I might not have Ria’s thieving instincts, but I can tell when something is amiss.

  “I need to leave. Amara did something to you, and I must stop her. Do you understand, Father?”

  “. . . Yes,” Father says slowly. “I—I do.” Clarity marks his voice. He might not remember everything, but he’s remembering life with me. Perhaps that is the first step.

  I grip his shoulders. “Let me prove it to you. I’ll find Amara, figure out what she’s doing. But what of the Kaamans? Aren’t they coming?”

  Father expels a breath. I hold mine.

  He surveys me, then drops his shoulders and gestures for the Head Chart to come forward. The Chart now holds the Bloodstone in both palms, cradling the ruby jewel. It looks off, duller than I remember.

  “Perhaps I should take the princess back to the palace, with your permission, Your Highness,” the Head Chart says. “That way you can speak to the Kaamans at their arrival.”

  Father nods. “Thank you, Two Thirteen. But hurry,” he says, placing the Bloodstone onto his scepter, like a crown on the snake’s head. “If what you say is true, Rani, you must find Amara. Now.”

  The palace halls are an oddly welcome sight after the dirt roads of Abai’s villages. The carriage ride here was no easy feat, and I convinced the Head Chart to bring the crew with me. The whole way I felt Sanya’s ice-cold stares, Amir’s discomfort, and Jas’s keen eyes. Even Irfan eyed me like I was a puzzle to piece together. The story had poured out of me: who I truly am, the switch on Diwali night. I could practically hear the name swirling inside Sanya’s mind: Snake Princess. Liar. Jas was there to calm her, as if she’d known, deep down, that I was different than I claimed.

  “I’m sorry I lied to you. All of you,” I told them. Sanya looked away, but Amir’s gaze rested on mine. He hadn’t seen the real me, Princess Rani, until this night, when I spoke to Father. I wouldn’t blame him if he feared me like he fears the raja.

  Now, standing in the entrance corridor, I feel oddly at home again in the palace walls. It is like seeing the world through fog, at once blurred and entirely familiar. No matter how I’m dressed, I stand confidently. Proudly. “We need to find Ria.”

  I harness my snake magic and clear the cobwebs from my mind. Shima lingers in the recesses of my brain. Usually her voice latches on, echoing into my eardrums, but right now I only feel a faint buzzing. Shima, I call out with all my might, where are you? Where is Ria?

  Something crackles in my mind, and then her voice takes shape. The dun . . . geons . . .

  “The dungeons?” I repeat, just as I turn to find servants gawking at me. They seem utterly befuddled by my looks. Of course. I am dressed in rags.

  “By order of the princess,” I tell them, “please take these denizens of Abai to the infirmary. They have business to attend to.” I make my voice clear, yet soft. No longer the Snake Princess they once believed me to be.

  “Infirmary?” Sanya retorts. “I’m not following a princess’s orders.”

  “There’s no time for fighting,” Amir says, as if sensing my urgency. “Do you . . . sense something?”

  “It’s Ria,” I say. “I think she’s in the dungeons.”

  “Is she in danger?” Amir asks, voice laced with concern.

  “I’m not sure.” I look at Irfan, then Sanya, Jas. I can’t put them in harm’s way, either.

  Amir steps up. “I’ll come with you.”

  I smile. “Jas, Sanya, please ready the infirmary. They may be hurt.”

  Jas nods, resolute. “We will see you there, Princess Rani.”

  “And Irfan,” I add, “you know the palace well. Perhaps with the help of a servant, you could find Amara.”

  “Of course,” Irfan says.

  Jas and Irfan take their leave, but Sanya remains rooted to the spot. For a moment, I’m afraid she won’t listen. That she’ll run off, escape, all because of me.

  As I turn away, Sanya calls, “Wait.”

  I look back at Sanya, her fists clenched like she is steeling herself.

  “Was it all an act, helping us villagers? Something to make you feel better about yourself until you got what you wanted?”

  I think of how I began my mission. Amir, just a means to an end but no longer. I couldn’t have imagined the place he’d hold in my heart. The place Jas held, Irfan, even Sanya.

  No more lies.

  “It began that way, yes. I lied to get what I wanted. I was selfish. I wanted to prove to my father that I was capable of ruling this land—but I wanted to help Samar, too. He was my tutor, and I needed to fulfill his dying wish.”

  I wring my hands. “And now . . . now you truly are my friends. My people. I don’t expect your forgiveness, but I do need your help.”

  Sanya takes a measured step forward, gulping. “You know, you changed my brother for the better. You might be the Snake Princess, but I . . .” The mask of hate she wore in the carriage begins to melt, replaced by an honest look. “I trust you.”

  Amir smiles.

  She leaves, and I grab onto Amir’s hand, pulling him through the maze of halls. I’ve been to the dungeons only once with Father as a child, but the bleak walls and weeping prisoners were enough to frighten me for months.

  The door to the dungeons is sealed. “Locked,” I tell him.

  “I could try to pick it,” Amir suggests, but I shake my head. This is a special bolt. Only Father and those he permits can enter with the proper key.

  “There’s gotta be another way.” Amir’s brows frown in thought. “Like the back end of an alley. People think alleys are dead ends but not always. You just have to get creative.”

  “A back end?” I wonder. Of course. There is always another way in—for servants.

  “You’re a genius!” I tell Amir. “There is a back end. Servants use their designated staircases to bring down food for the prisoners. Come on.”

  Within minutes, we find the servant staircase and rush down the narrow steps. The deeper we go, the murkier and darker it gets, until we reach the final level, the lowest of the palace.

  The dungeons reek of filth and grime. I dash ahead, finding Shima in the dark through our connection, and cradle the bars before her. Her head is tilted down.

  “Shima, what’s happened?” I reach through the bars to feel the cool, supple skin of my snake familiar. Once my only companion, she looks tired now, her eyes barely holding recognition when she sees me. “Shima, wake up.”

  The snake begins to lift her head, but before she can speak, Amir’s voice echoes through the dungeons.

  “R-Ria?”

  I spin to find Amir before the cell bars, and there—there is my sister, rising up from her crouched position. Relief fills me with warmth as soon as I see her.

  “You’re here. You both are,” she says.

  I rush over to her, taking her hands between the bars.

  “Saeed,” I greet, noticing him in the cell next to Ria’s.

  “So you really are twins,” he says, eyes widening at the sight of us. His lips part as he gazes at Ria. How much has she told him about our little charade?

  “It’s true,” I say. “Ria, thank Amran you’re safe. Who did this to you?”

  I know the answer before it escapes her mouth. “Amara. Sleep serum,” she spits. But her eyes lighten when she finds Amir, and they hug as much as they can with the bars between them.

  “I’m sorry, Amir. I’m sorry I left you. We were gonna leave, go far away from this mess.” Tears glisten in the corners of her eyes.

  “It’s okay. To be h
onest, sneaking out of the country started to seem a little boring.” Amir gives her a grin.

  She lets out a surprised laugh and regards Amir, his torn clothing. “Where have you been? Did you find the stone?”

  “The raja has it,” I confess. “But the real matter here is Amara. She—”

  “Has been controlling the raja,” Saeed fills in, startling me. He stands a little taller, looking at Ria resolutely. They tell us everything: Of the cuffs Amara wears and the powers they wield. Of Saeed’s visions, his memory magic. Of Amara’s plot to keep Saeed from discovering her plan.

  “The cuffs, they’re the Memory Master’s talisman,” Ria says, voice grim. “She’s had them this whole time. She could manipulate any one of us.”

  “I cannot believe this. Saeed saw Amara . . . but what is she planning?” I fret.

  “She wanted the stone. We think we know why,” Ria says. “We discovered these strange letters—”

  “Letters?” I interrupt.

  Saeed nods. “We found them in her chambers. They were recently written . . . to my father.”

  Amir crosses his arms. “I don’t understand. What does this have to do with the stone?”

  Saeed shudders in a deep breath. “My father . . . he’s dead. But she kept writing letters to him. It was like she was pretending he was still alive,” Saeed continues. “Like she wanted to bring him back from the dead.”

  My heart thuds. My mind whirls. “That’s impossible. Even the Bloodstone cannot bring back people from the dead.”

  “Exactly,” Ria says. “But we found something else in her chambers. A page from a book about magic. It spoke of a mythical seventh Master. The Master of—”

  “Souls?” I finish. That was a story Amara told me when I was just five summers old. A scary tale to get me to go to bed, she’d likely thought, though I’d found it humorous, about as real as a ten-foot monkey.

  “I don’t get it,” Amir says.

  “I know what Amara’s up to. She’s going to use the stone to find this Master, bring them to life somehow. Then . . .” She inhales. “She’ll get the Master to reap her husband.”

  I shiver. Just the idea of bringing to life a seventh, fabled Master is preposterous. But only someone like Amara would go through with it.

  “We must find her,” I say.

  Ria shakes her head. “There’s no way out of this cell. There must be magical barriers.”

  I nod, glancing at Amir’s fear-flecked face. He’s probably thinking about all the snakes in this place, or worse, the way I can control them.

  “Father sealed this place with snake magic,” I say. “If anyone tried to escape, they would be magically taken into the Snake Pit and eaten alive, with no public execution.”

  Amir gulps. “Dead without a spectacle.”

  I look away from him.

  Ria’s brows arch. “But we have snake magic, too.”

  “Father’s magic is strong. I cannot counteract it. But if we called the Pit to us . . .”

  Ria stills. “Is that even possible?”

  I envision the layout of the palace. “The Snake Pit doesn’t necessarily take up space; it’s a magical dwelling for the snakes that exists out of the confines of space and time. But Father has always said that prisoners are beneath the snakes. What if he meant they were literally beneath them?”

  Ria gapes. “As in . . . we’re beneath the Pit?”

  I nod, quickly reaching through the cell bars and taking her hands in mine. “We can break out of here together, with Shima’s help. Use her to connect to the snakes in the Pit.”

  “I—I can’t control all those snakes.” She shivers, probably thinking of her caretaker, the one who perished in the Pit’s depths.

  “Think of the prophecy,” I say. “Your magic is strong. You’ve learned much of it in these past weeks. Right?”

  Ria bites her lips but nods.

  “Call upon your magic. Command the snakes to guide us into the Pit,” I tell her. I think of Tutor, of magic and harmony and peace. I close my eyes and call up the magic hiding in my bones, willing it to be unleashed. For the magic to swell up, fill the chasm between us, ready to burst.

  Nothing.

  My arms grow heavy like lead. Only silence remains—dark, vast silence.

  Why isn’t this working?

  Be brave, Rani. Tutor was brave. Jas was brave. Amir was brave. Why can’t I be, too?

  Ria glances at the prison cage bars. I imagine all her fears mingled with mine: never escaping, our friends dead at Amara’s command.

  “Snake magic can’t overpower Amara’s cuffs,” Ria says, and the admittance makes me step back. Reassess. Remember what our magic can do, combined, powerful.

  “We need to think not of our magic but of the people who guided us here. Isn’t that what this is all about? Creating our own destinies but remembering the paths others have taken before us?”

  Ria blinks. She takes my hands, letting her eyes close. I do the same.

  I think of all the people who guided me here. Tutor, Samar. Jas. Sanya. Irfan. Amir.

  When I peek my eyes open, our hands are like candles cupping a flame, a warm glow emitting from them.

  I say the names aloud this time, and Ria adds on. “Aditi,” she says. “Saeed.”

  “My parents,” I croak.

  I feel Shima inside my mind, stirring to life, the magic between us reignited.

  The dungeons begin to shake.

  Everything in the room trembles. I stumble back on the quaking floor, before tightening my grip on Ria’s hands and standing up firmly. Then a blinding flash of white, bright as diamonds.

  When I open my eyes, Ria, Amir, and Saeed are next to me, sitting on the floor of the Pit. The walls are black as obsidian, lined with serpents and flaked with blood.

  “It worked,” Amir says. “Now . . .” He turns to Ria, who looks sickly.

  “I think I’m gonna vomit at this smell.”

  Sensitive much, Shima mutters.

  “You’re awake!” I say.

  Somewhat, Shima says, struggling to lift up her body. You must command the snakes, Princess Ria and Princess Rani. They answer to power and authority alone.

  A flicker of a shadow. And then a voice that does not belong to Shima.

  Return to me . . .

  Ria turns, face blanching. “Did you—”

  Before I can answer, the Snake Pit bursts open.

  The entire group soars up, balancing on a puzzle of interlocking snakes. They twist and slither around us, bodies pushing us relentlessly upward. I take Ria’s hand.

  We land in the throne room, and the snakes part like gauzy curtains. We all leap onto the marble floor before the snakes recede back into the Pit, and the hole stitches itself shut.

  “Thank you,” I tell Shima. “I’ve missed you.”

  And I have missed you.

  “We need to find Amara,” Ria says. “Saeed, can you go with Amir and look for her in the east end of the palace? Rani and I will search the west.”

  “Of course.” Saeed leads Amir out of the throne room. If anyone can talk Amara down, it’ll be Saeed, and Amir is as quick and silent as a viper. Still, I feel a flicker of worry for them.

  Over there. Shima’s sharp eyes are on the courtyards. Ria and I rush outside with Shima and search the grounds, Ria taking the left side and me the right. My eyes land on a figure in the shadows, unmoving.

  I take a step forward. Two. “Who’s there?”

  There’s something in the grass. My chest tightens when I see it—him. The Head Chart’s red coat comes into view. His face is stone.

  Dead.

  Someone turns and steps into the light, and I catch their eyes widening.

  “You startled me, Princess,” Amara says. Next to her hovers Father’s snake familiar, Samvir, his scales flickering from red to black. She pastes a tight smile onto her face. “I was just on my way to—”

  “What did you do?” I snarl.

  “Only what I needed to.”


  My gaze falls to Amara’s free hand. “No,” I say, pointing. “Impossible—”

  But it is here, illuminating her features, her red lips, her red hair. Her pupils reflect two rubies in pockets of darkness.

  The Bloodstone.

  41

  Ria

  Voices sound from the other end of the Western Courtyard.

  I turn, finding Rani and Shima. My sister is standing across from a woman with flaming red hair. My breath hitches. Amara.

  “Rani!” I cry, rushing over. I reach Rani’s side and Amara’s eyes widen at the sight of us.

  Shock, then a scowl, crosses Amara’s face. “You’re both here,” she snarls. “I should’ve known you’d find your way back, Rani.” She swivels her gaze to my sister. She breathes heavily, clutching something fiercely in her hands.

  “The Bloodstone?” I whisper, glancing at Rani. An ache forms in the back of my skull.

  “That cannot be,” Rani says. “My father has the stone. I found it.”

  “I suppose I should thank you. I should have known a snakespeaker would be the one to find it. Doesn’t it look marvelous?” Amara twirls the stone in her fingers.

  “I saw the Bloodstone,” Rani interrupts, looking horrified. “I saw the stone for myself, touched it—”

  “Yes, you did,” the woman sneers, placing a hand on Samvir’s head. “This stone. I had the raja’s Head Chart swap it with a fake and bring me the real one. It was simple to get a soldier up my sleeve who’d do my biddings for me. I didn’t even have to control him, especially when I offered that he could have any wish he’d like.” She moves to the side, revealing a body on the grass behind her. I gasp.

  “You gave him empty promises and then killed him,” Rani says, voice shaking.

  “Well, I couldn’t have him interfering,” she purrs. Her cuffs shine like the Abai sun. “Many moons ago, in Anari Square, I got a ruby cut for myself, based on the ruby in Queen Amrita’s portrait. It was the perfect replacement.”

  She holds the stone up, marveling in its beauty.

  Shima hisses at the woman, spitting anger. Snakes do not obey you, Amara.

  Even though Amara can’t hear her, she gets the message. “It seems your pet needs a lesson.”