by Sasha Nanua
Irfan takes his leave, and I stand at Amir’s silence. We’ve talked only a handful of times since the fateful night we returned to the palace. Sometimes I still look at him with hope—but I do not know if he can ever see past the princess in me. If he can see in Rani that same girl who meant something to him.
“Your family knows how to throw a party,” he says, taking my silence as permission to step in. It’s dark, the only light coming from a few torches and the stars.
“I think I’m the one who did all the party planning,” I laugh, stomach warming.
“Don’t tell Ria that,” he jokes. “She was proud of her first official party.”
“How is she?” I ask, even though I saw her a few hours ago.
“No more thieving, that’s for sure.” I don’t realize how close he’s moved toward me until his arm brushes mine.
“I should never have lied to you.”
“You had no choice,” Amir says. “I knew there was something off from the start, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. And then when you told me, I didn’t want to believe you were a princess. Out of reach.”
Carefully, he opens his fist, revealing the timepiece from his father. “I don’t want to waste any more time.” He takes my hand. “Do you want to dance?”
I nod. Music thrums through my body, carrying itself up through the Abai air.
He doesn’t say a word. His hands move to my waist. But it’s not the dance I expect; it’s the kind of dance when lips touch, when the world is long forgotten.
I relish the smolder, the heat of it all. The fire burning deep within me—somewhere I didn’t know existed. I was so used to the ice I built around me that I didn’t see the heat scorching in my soul.
I’m breathless when he pulls back. But he doesn’t let go. Not yet. Not ever.
So we lose ourselves in the beat of the music.
45
Ria
The celebration’s in full swing. People filter in and out of the throne room, their multicolored suits lighting up the palace like lit diyas. I’m wearing an emerald lehenga (I’ve decided saris are Not My Thing), wearing the color with pride, a color no longer denoted to a lesser value. Even the palace itself has changed, with garlands of gold and green leaves strung around the palace pillars. I’ve changed too: my face looks different than it did a few weeks ago when I lived on the streets. I glance down at my bangles, bright enough that I would’ve never worn them while thieving. Bright enough to assert myself as princess but also a color of illumination. Of fire. Like saffron, unassuming but worth its weight in gold.
I leave the throne room, legs ready to carry me wherever I want. I think back to days in Nabh: a piece of naan in one hand, legs outstretched, ready to run at the right moment. I imagine tossing Amir his food. How unaware I was, thinking my life was one long dirt road, leading to nothing but heaps of unfulfilled dreams, like litter thrown to the wayside.
No—I’m Ria, not Rani, a girl whose speed and quick thinking got me through the toughest months of my life. I’m no one but me.
I pass by Aditi, who’s playing with a few other kids, and she gives me a wink.
“Lynx,” she says.
“Mouse,” I greet in return. I’ve checked on Aditi in the servants’ infirmary these past few days before she was let out. She had rope burns on her wrists, like the queen’s. It seems the infirmary had its fair share of visitors this week; I even ordered the Charts to search for Amara’s snake venom supplier and bring him back here, and now he’s recovering in the infirmary, too, after much blood loss. We’re waiting for him to heal fully in case he might have more information on Amara.
Amara. The night she disappeared, Aditi told me, “I stood up to her, you know. Before she tied me up. I told her she was messing with the wrong princess. I’m not afraid of her anymore.”
Now Aditi giggles and smiles profusely as she tosses her chunni in the air. She’s right. She isn’t afraid anymore.
The courtyard is empty except for a few Charts, and I’m reminded of how stiff-backed and menacing they once were, of how wary and rigid they still seem. At least the age registration has been reversed. No more children will be conscripted into the Charts. No one else will be conscripted against their will.
There’s still lots that needs to be changed, with the raja’s and queen’s help. I imagine the seas beyond, a sweeping current of cobalt. Once, the sea was all the freedom I craved. Now, with our parents’ memories returned and Rani at my side, I’m truly free.
Free as you’ll ever be, a voice chimes.
I spin to find Shima hidden in an alcove of the palace. She slithers out of the shadows and onto the grass. Enjoying the party? she asks.
“Yes,” I say. “You?”
Could be better. But I like the decor. Very chic.
“Hmph,” I laugh. “You have ridiculously high standards.” A cool wind hits me and I shiver, remembering how much has changed in the past moon.
“I’ve been meaning to ask . . . you didn’t . . . know Mama Anita, did you? When she came to the palace?”
If you’re insinuating I was one of the vipers in the Pit when your caretaker passed, you are wrong. Samvir, your father’s snake familiar, was the executioner.
My stomach coils.
Shima continues, There is a light in the darkness, Princess. I was the one who led your friend Aditi to her caretaker, in the dungeons, during her last moments.
I shake my head, confused. “W-why?”
Because I sensed something about the woman, the snake says. And now I know what. I knew, when I forged my blood bond with Rani, that there was a secret buried deep in her veins. The snake eyes me, watchful and steady. And it was you.
I step back. “Me?” I think of what the snake said—the blood bond. Forged through the Bonding Ceremony, a tradition between serpent and human. I feel it with her now, that strange tug and pull.
“Shima . . . ,” I say. “I have a question.”
She raises her head.
“When we were rising up in the Pit,” I tell her, “I heard a voice. Do you know who it could’ve been?”
Shima’s voice is grave. He has been in the Pit for ages, biding his time, one with the walls and shadows.
“Who’s he?”
I believe you already know. Shima shivers. It is strange. We no longer feel his presence since Amara’s disappearance. Saeed’s mother, on the other hand . . . there is something different about her. She is changed.
“Changed?” I repeat. “Wait . . . can you sense if Amara’s alive?”
We snakes do not know for certain. But we do know that only someone of great power could have escaped such a dark place.
I gulp. “Th-thank you, Shima.”
Above, laughter pours out from the Stone Terrace. Leaning against the edge stand Amir and Rani, their hands intertwined. It’s been no secret how Amir feels about my sister; the way he looked at her daily was no puzzle to figure out. Their embrace warms my chest. If I’d never met Rani, I might’ve always stayed with Amir, escaped Abai. Never fulfilling my own destiny, never finding Saeed.
I’m still wearing the engagement ring. My parents haven’t reprimanded me for it, and neither has Rani. Saeed’s still wearing his, though we haven’t spoken of it yet.
I head to the Stone Terrace. I can’t help my surreptitious smile when I find Rani and Amir wrapped in each other’s arms.
I politely knock on the wall. “Am I interrupting something?”
Rani groans against Amir. “Ria, I know you used to be a thief, but do you have to steal away a private moment?”
Amir chuckles, his eyes finding mine. “Some things never change.”
I grin. “If you two lovebirds are gonna keep doing this all night—”
Amir removes his hands from Rani and raises them in the air. “I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” As he exits, he playfully pushes an elbow against my arm, and I push back.
When he’s gone, I move to where Amir was standing a few seconds ago, eye to eye
with Rani.
“Are you happy here?”
“I should be asking you that question,” she replies with a short laugh. “But yes. Very.”
“Me too.”
“When I left,” Rani continues, “I never thought my life could change this much. Never saw that I could be . . . something else.”
I think of all the people she met on her journey, people now staying at the palace with us: Amir’s sister, Sanya. The older woman, Jas. The former Chart, Irfan. “And yet . . .”
“We’re still princesses,” she laughs. I join her, letting the sound settle against my skin. Then she turns to smirk at me. “Mother says I’m older.”
“By ten minutes!” I quip back.
We double over with laughter. It’s still strange, getting used to this whole sisterhood thing, but now I wonder how I ever lived without it.
Some time later, Saeed finds us on the balcony, wearing a watery smile that brightens when his eyes find mine. I don’t know why my heart suddenly does backflips.
“Good evening, Your Highnesses,” he says, bowing.
“You know you don’t have to do that, right?” I say.
“Force of habit.”
I pull him inside, away from the balcony. Rani shoots me a knowing grin, which I pointedly ignore. I notice a few locks of his hair are a shocking white, curling above his brow. He hasn’t bothered covering them.
“I like your hair. It suits you.”
“Seems the symptom is permanent.” He shrugs. “I thought I’d embrace it.”
“You know,” I tell him, “you don’t always need to hide in your room. We can talk about what happened.” We’ve only met up a few times over the past week, and even then, Saeed’s been somewhat distant.
He sucks in his cheeks. “I know, it’s just . . . my mother. She’s gone. Where is she? What magic could have done that?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly.
“I see her in my visions. I think she’s alive, Ria.”
“Saeed—” I start.
“I know, I know. She disappeared into the Pit. But my visions haven’t led me astray so far, have they? I don’t know where she is, or what she is doing. I only hope she stays far from here.”
I remain quiet at that. I can’t even imagine the pain Saeed’s gone through.
“That’s why I was looking for you,” Saeed says. “I’m officially leaving to search for her. Tonight.”
“Tonight?” My voice sounds strangled. “Why?”
“I can’t just stay here, knowing she could be out there. Perhaps my visions could help me find her. You must understand.”
I nod. “I—I do. But I want you to be safe.” I step closer to him, wrapping my hands in his. He thumbs the engagement ring that I haven’t taken off.
“I will. I’ll be back,” he promises, “as soon as I have information.”
Our eyes connect, and it’s like I’m back at Rani’s engagement party, the moment he told me he loved me. I’m frozen as he leans down to place a kiss on my forehead. My heart leaps.
“Saeed . . . stay tonight. You can leave in the morning, have a fresh start. Please.”
Saeed’s brows crinkle. But I don’t have to use my snake magic for me to convince him.
He sighs. “Okay,” he concedes. “Who am I to disobey Princess Ria?”
I grin. “I’ll find you soon. Save a dance for me?”
Saeed’s eyes soften. “Of course, Princess.”
When we part, I swear I’m floating back onto the balcony and to Rani. I tell her about Saeed’s plan, his visions of his mother.
“What if she’s really alive?” I whisper.
“We’ll work together and find her. Have faith, sister.” Rani shakes her head, letting her long, raven hair hang loose. And then, she turns to the railing. Our kingdom.
It’s nowhere near perfect. Nabh is still the Dirt Village. Anari is still the opulent capital. It’s everything in between that’s changed.
Outside, I see everything I once knew, and know still: merchant carts, dirt-lined roads. The stalls opening each morning, the vivid shouts and cheers of children. The part of me that only knew Abai’s villages and alleyways isn’t going anywhere.
Once, I was satisfied with only rupees in my pocket and an empty heart. Now I feel just the opposite.
There’s still a lot to be discussed with my mother and father, like the Vadi Orphanage, the treatment of children with magic. No more suppressing who we are. As a princess, I have a voice. And I’m gonna make mine heard.
“Do you believe all twins could do what we did that night?” Rani ponders. “Facing Amara and our parents, bringing back their memories?”
“Nah,” I say, grinning. “Just us.”
Gently, she presses open my hand and brings her palm against mine. I startle, pulling back. It’s still so odd, everything that’s happened. I want to tell her how I feel—that I do see her as my sister, that having a twin has changed my life. But I’m still me. Ria. The thief girl. And trust doesn’t come easy for me.
“I’ve always wanted a real family.” I gulp. “Now that I have one, I—I’m too scared to admit it.”
“You don’t have to fear any longer. Your family isn’t only your blood. It’s the people who are around you. I didn’t know then, but Tutor was a part of me, a part of my family, the same way Mama Anita was part of yours.”
Rani’s words light a fire inside me. It’s true. I’ve had my family with me all along.
“So . . .” Rani half smiles, holding out her hand. “A truce?”
“I don’t really wanna hear that word again,” I laugh. “But yeah. Something like that.”
With a featherlight touch, I take her hand. It’s the first step toward a world where I don’t have to worry about what food I’ll eat or what clothes I’ll need to steal. The first step to really changing things, for good.
From the courtyards, the celebration escalates. A tinny sound echoes across the grounds, followed by a shower of light. Fireworks are bursting through the air, raining down on all of Abai, a light to end eighteen years of darkness.
We are the princesses of Abai, standing before our kingdom. Together.
Epilogue
She wakes in the darkness.
The cave is dim and disparaging. She rises from the ground and crouches over a pond of water in the cave, examining her rippling reflection. Reddened lips. Red as blood.
Her last memories return to her. Falling into an abyss . . . a deep voice . . .
“I have waited a long time for this,” someone says. She looks up before realizing the voice has come from within herself. But it is not her own anymore. She feels it slip up her spine and entwine with her very spirit, the same way it clung to her the moment she fell into the Snake Pit.
Something shimmers from the corner of her vision. She reaches for the object and wraps it in her hand. A stone, red and pulsing, beats in her palm like an aching heart.
“Are you the one who saved me?” she asks, her voice entirely her own.
“Why don’t you take another look? Tell me, dear Amara . . . do you see?”
When she leans down to glance at her reflection once more, she sees her eyes—his eyes—serpentine and deadly.
“Yes, Master.” She grins.
Acknowledgments
Writing a book is a years-long journey. We started this book back in 2016, when the world was much different than it is today. But Ria and Rani have always stuck around, and we’re so grateful that people can now read their story. We’re extremely thankful to the following people for helping us along the way and cheering on Sisters of the Snake:
Our parents, Aneil, and all of our family and friends who have supported us on our writing journey from high school to university and beyond. Thank you for always being by our side.
Enormous thanks to Pete Knapp for being the first person to champion our books and truly understand them. Sisters of the Snake would not exist without you! A million thanks also to the whole PFLM tea
m.
Kristen Pettit, for all the enthusiasm (Shima!) and expertise, and for being such an incredible editor with brilliant ideas. Clare Vaughn, for fielding emails, answering questions, and having the magical touch on this manuscript. To everyone at HarperCollins who has helped guide this manuscript into becoming a real book, including Jon Howard and Megan Gendell on the production side, and also Team Epic Reads and all the tireless sales, marketing, and publicity folks. A huge thanks to HarperCollins Canada for their never-ending support, including Maeve, Ashley, and Marisol! Yay Team Frenzy!
Huge thank-you to cover designer Chris Kwon and artist Fatima Baig for bringing Ria and Rani to life. We seriously couldn’t have asked for a better, more stunning cover and jacket design. *heart eyes* for days. THANK YOU for bringing our book cover dreams to life.
To our Toronto writer crew for all the fun hangouts and publishing chats. Y’all are awesome!
Sona Charaipotra and Dhonielle Clayton, thank you for always being incredible mentors and great people to work with!
Thank you to Sabaa Tahir for motivating us to write a story about twins way back in March 2016. An Ember in the Ashes helped us realize we could one day write high fantasy, too.
Huge thanks and lots of love to everyone who took the time to read and blurb this book.
To the PitchWars 2016 crew, especially Laura Ingram Lashley for suggesting the title! Shout-out to Judy I. Lin for the sprints and fun chats. And thank you to our amazing mentor Stephanie Scott, revision wizard and all-around amazing person and Instagrammer!
Thanks to Beth Phelan and DVPit for giving us a voice and championing diverse stories. To all our book blogger friends who’ve supported us on the journey thus far, and who’ve been with us since the beginning.
To the 21ders: We couldn’t have asked for a more incredible group of authors to debut with. Thanks for all the Slack chats and messages while we go through this wildly amazing publishing experience together.