by Beth Alvarez
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to real people or events is entirely coincidental.
SERPENT’S CROWN
Copyright © 2021 by Beth Alvarez
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Beth Alvarez
Edited by Amanda Dimer Silva
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Edition: February 2021
ISBN-13: 978-1-952145-12-4
Serpent’s Crown
Book Five of the Snakesblood Saga
Beth Alvarez
With special thanks to Lissie, for help making the cover right, and for listening to me panic about this book far more than was ever necessary.
Contents
Foreword
1. Old friends
2. Response
3. Trust and turbulence
4. Secrets to keep
5. Home
6. Old wounds
7. New wars
8. Extermination
9. Welcome party
10. Corruption's heights
11. Meetings
12. Because of you
13. Blood and betrayal
14. New rumors
15. New ways
16. Unhappy reunions
17. Restless discontent
18. Distraction
19. Ghosts of the past
20. Conflicting messages
21. Deeper
22. Decisions
23. Strike
24. Flight
25. Landing
Author’s note
About the Author
Books by Beth Alvarez
Foreword
At the end of book 4, Serpent’s Wake, I stood at a difficult split in the road. There were more adventures to write, more things that happened in the linear timeline, that were things I wanted to explore. But that meant two, maybe three books where it was more like Rune being along for the ride in other people’s journeys than him actually resolving his own problems, and Firal… nothing of note happened to her at all, and she wouldn’t have been in those stories. Those are stories that are still going to be told, but ultimately, I decided their place was not in the core Snakesblood Saga.
This story is about the forces that interact between Rune and Firal, bringing their lives together and pulling them apart, which meant the real place the story should resume was here: some six pents—thirty years—after the events in Wake. That’s a lot of time for humans like you and I, but not so much for the Eldani.
Those other stories? They’re coming, but they’ll be on their own, a separate series that can be read by itself. If you’re curious to see how things pan out, you can always read those before tackling this, but it’s definitely not necessary to read them before starting here, with Serpent’s Crown.
Let’s get started, shall we?
1
Old friends
“She is not his child.” Ennil Tanrys studied the teacup in his hands. It was not a good brew, bitter beyond what honey could save. The tea was too dark, obscuring the fine porcelain, and its surface swam with oils that promised to stain. It was unworthy of his attention, but he stared at it anyway. Anything to keep from looking at the monster that sat in his parlor. He took a sip and grimaced at the taste. He'd sent his staff away as soon as she'd appeared in his study. In the future, he'd wait for one of them to make a pot of tea before he dismissed them.
Unwilling to drink the rest, Ennil put his tea aside. “I never expected my family line would end like this. My brothers dead before they could sire children, me unable to sire more than one. My son married to a queen for decades, and the only child in the house isn't even his.”
“A tragic tale,” his companion said, her tone dry. “But what makes you think I care?”
This time, he made himself look at her.
There was a time she might have been beautiful, with her high cheekbones and fine brows, but magic had spoiled her long ago. Her hair fell in snowy ringlets around her shoulders and her eyes shone a frigid, shocking blue. All mages ended up as cold and colorless eventually, and Envesi had been Archmage, the first leader of Kirban Temple.
Ennil could look past the lack of color in her flesh and features. He had for years. It was the new changes that bothered him; he didn't understand what could drive someone to such madness. She'd experimented on others first for a reason. She should have known what to expect.
Yet there she was, her legs crossed and her reptilian feet exposed. She cradled a teacup in her white-scaled hands and tapped a rhythm of impatience against it with one clawed finger.
It was all he could do not to shudder.
“Don't forget that I was one of your first supporters, Archmage.” The title hadn't been hers in nearly thirty years, but it rolled off his tongue before he could catch it. He glanced down as he took the small ewer of cream from the tea tray. “I don't always like your methods, but I have always stood by your cause. You founded the temple with a single intent. Judging by your appearance now, I'd say nothing has changed.”
Envesi sipped her bitter tea without so much as a flinch. “Go on.”
“They call her the Everchild.” Ennil watched the cream swirl into his tea and offered her the ewer. She didn't move. He put it down. “You'd have to see her to understand. I know it's not uncommon for the children of mages to grow slowly, but if I didn't know better, I'd think her no more than a handful of years in age.”
She raised a brow, the most vivid expression he'd seen her wear since her arrival. “And she is not?”
“She was born not a full year after they wed, which happened immediately after your... departure.” Ennil didn't know a more sensitive way to reference her exile from the island. He expected she'd be irritated by its mention, but she didn't seem to care.
“If I didn't know you, Lord Tanrys,” she all but spat his title, “I'd think you were exaggerating.” She peered at him over the rim of her teacup. Her snake-slitted eyes gave him chills. “Does the girl speak?”
“A few words. As many as can be expected, for her rate of aging. I do not exaggerate when I say she is small. Hardly more than a babe.”
Envesi pursed her lips. “And the mages? Have they evaluated her yet?”
“That, I can't say.” He sighed and slouched in his chair. “My connections in the temple are all but nonexistent, these days. I expect you'd have more luck prying that sort of information from the mages yourself.” His lack of connections with mages didn't bother him, but he was unlikely to tell her as much. Ennil had never liked mages, but he wasn't foolish enough to let them take his dislike as disrespect.
She snorted softly, amused. “Why, Ennil, what makes you think I've kept any foothold in the temple?”
“Because you've kept a foothold with me,” he said.
She smiled.
“Were circumstances different, I'd think it no more than an oddity. But Firal is your blood, and the girl's father was...” He trailed off and his eyes drifted back to her hands. He couldn't bring himself to say what he meant, but he couldn't hide his distaste, either. He'd spent years stifling it for Kifel's benefit, but Kifel had been a friend. Envesi was not. And Lomithrandel, of course, was responsible for the mess Ennil's son had landed in to begin with.
Envesi lifted her tea once more. “Are you certain?”
“If you saw her, Archmage,” he said, “there wouldn't be a doubt in your
mind.”
“Very well.” She drained her cup and set it aside, then smiled again. “Shall we begin?”
Unwilling to disrupt the peace of the queen's office, Medreal lingered in the doorway with a tea tray balanced on one arm.
Firal sat behind her desk, her chair turned toward the high arched windows that overlooked the palace gardens. She hummed quietly, rocking the dark-haired girl in her arms. The child chewed on her fingers, her big eyes trained on her mother's face.
It wasn't often the stewardess saw the queen content. Too often, Firal's duties kept her from mothering the girl the way she wanted. Lulu, of course, always wanted time with her mother. Neither cared how unconventional their relationship was. Normal queens didn't feed or fuss over their own children, but Firal was hardly a normal queen.
Medreal was loath to disturb them, but if she didn't, the council would. She cleared her throat as she stepped inside and closed the office door with her heel.
Firal glanced up, shifting the baby in her arms. She sat the girl upright and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You don't need to wait by the door, Medreal. If you stood watching as long as you wanted, the tea would grow cold.”
The stewardess chuckled. She should have known she couldn't sneak up on them. The queen was a mage, after all. Though their powers were different, they could still sense one another. “I apologize, Majesty. I enjoy seeing you together. Goodness knows it doesn't happen as often as we'd like.”
Making a small sound of displeasure in her throat, Firal moved papers on her desk to create room for the tea. “No, it never does. I appreciate your respect for our privacy.”
Medreal glided across the room to deposit the tray on the edge of the desk and fill a teacup. She added sugar and cream, but did not stir it before she placed the cup in front of Firal with a spoon on the saucer. “I understand the need. I've held this job a long time, my queen. I have watched many of your predecessors struggle to strike a balance between kingdom and family.”
Firal stirred her tea, watching absently as the cream blended into the drink. “Did they succeed?”
“Not often.” Medreal tried to smile as she looked down at the baby on the queen's lap. Lulu gazed back with thoughtful violet eyes. Her father's eyes, in more ways than one. Even now, seeing them in the girl's sweet face put a lump in Medreal's throat. She had loved Ran as if he were her own, though she doubted he ever knew it. It wasn't that he was ignorant of other people's feelings. He was simply too distracted with his own ambitions to notice. To have his daughter in the palace was a blessing, but often bittersweet.
The queen tucked a wayward ebony curl behind her pointed ear and sighed as she lifted her cup. “I suppose the council will expect me soon?”
Medreal nodded. “I thought it best you have some tea to clear your head before you meet with them.”
“I wish I could clear my head,” Firal said. “I can't imagine what they want to fuss over this time. The state of the kingdom is the best it's ever been, but I suppose there's always something more to fuss over.”
The stewardess laughed. “Oh, there always is.” She held out her hands to Lulu in invitation. The girl wiggled on her mother's lap and reached for her. Stewardess to the queen was only one of Medreal's titles, and the less important, in her mind. Playing nursemaid to the royal children had always been her favorite role. “I'm sure you're ready to eat, aren't you, little one? Let's sneak off to your room, then. Your mother will come for you when she's done.”
Firal forced a laugh and lifted the babe into Medreal's arms. “If I'm ever done.” She leaned forward to kiss one of the girl's round, rosy cheeks. “I love you, precious girl. Be good for Nana.”
Smiling, Medreal shifted the child onto her hip. “Don't worry. We'll be waiting when you're finished.”
“Of course. Thank you, Medreal.” Firal bowed her head and settled back in her chair to finish her tea.
Medreal left the tray and smoothed Lulu's dark hair as she toted her out of the office and up the hall.
In truth, there was little left for Medreal to do around the palace. Her involvement in matters of politics was still welcome, but often unnecessary. Firal had come into her own through the years, and with Vahnil at her side to help manage the kingdom, the only thing that truly required the stewardess's attention was the baby in her arms. It wasn't that there were no other nursemaids qualified for the duty; Firal simply trusted her best. And with the girl's peculiarities, it made sense for Medreal to fill the role.
Lumia—Lulu, as those close to the girl knew her—took after her father in more ways than just her eyes. Born a free mage, she was unrestricted by element, more powerful than most could imagine. Medreal didn't know why Lulu had been born unbound, but she was certain it had something to do with the chaotic power the child's father bore. That, too, made Medreal the best choice for nursemaid.
After all, she was the only other free mage on the island.
Firal was strong enough in her own Gift; her mother had been Archmage, and magic ran deep in her blood. But the power that flowed through the child was different, slowing her growth beyond what even the most powerful Eldani mages experienced. Some thought it meant the girl would be a burden. What the queen herself thought, Medreal didn't know.
Brushing away the worry for another time, the stewardess bounced the baby on her hip and pushed open the door to the royal quarters. “Here we are,” she said in a sing-song voice, easing Lulu to the floor and directing the girl toward her nursery. Eager, the child toddled ahead.
A tray of fruits, rolls, and a sweet or two waited inside, with a pair of cups and a pitcher of fruit juice beside it on the low table. Delivered only moments before they arrived, Medreal supposed. The wedges of apple on the silver plate hadn't begun to brown.
“Bite?” Lulu held up a slice she gripped tight in her chubby fist, her eyes bright as she offered the treat to her nursemaid.
Medreal chuckled. “Thank you, love.” She leaned forward to take it and paused when she heard the large door to the royal quarters creak open.
That wasn't right. She would have sensed Firal coming, and Vahnil was meeting with the master of docks at the river. No one else would have entered without knocking.
It wasn't Firal, but Medreal sensed something. A muddied feeling of power, like the swimming confusion of a mageling first coming into their Gift. No, that wasn't it. It was something else, something familiar. Something she hadn't felt since...
Her eyes widened and Medreal sent a thrust of energy to the queen, a Call relating panic and urgency. The message no more than left before something invisible slammed against her and wrestled the flows of power out of her grasp.
Free magic.
It shot through the room like a shockwave, spilling dishes across the floor.
Gritting her teeth, Medreal pushed with her own energy and snared a thread of power from the air before her unseen opponent could stop her. She spun it into a blade of raw energy and cut at the magic that held her Gift at bay.
The wild power spun around her, muddling her senses. She retreated, turning to look for Lumia.
A mistake. The door opened and she couldn't turn back quickly enough. Her shoulder caught against a man's chest just as his dagger sank between her ribs.
Her breath escaped with her grasp of the energy around her, magic abandoning her as crimson bloomed across the bodice of her dress.
Lulu whimpered and opened her arms.
Medreal couldn't reach her. Her knees buckled, spilling her onto the floor. The man brushed past her and bent toward the dark-haired girl beside the low table. Lulu turned toward him, reaching up, wanting comfort from the man she thought was her grandfather.
“This wasn't a part of our agreement,” Ennil growled, cradling the baby to his chest and glaring toward the doorway.
“I never gave you promises in writing, Lord Tanrys,” a woman replied.
Medreal choked on her breath and struggled to grasp power again. She couldn't heal herself. No mage c
ould. But if she could only reach magic... She had to do something.
Clawed feet bearing white scales slipped past her. Medreal reached for the hem of the white robe as it brushed by, clutched it with a gnarled hand that was rapidly losing strength.
Envesi arched a brow and spared her a single glance. Then she jerked her robes away and waved a hand, splitting the air with the crackling power of a Gate as if it were little more than a thought. “Now come along, unless you mean to join her.”
Ennil hesitated, looking at Medreal on the floor.
Anger bubbled inside her and tears brimmed in her dark eyes as he met her gaze. She'd never liked the man. Now she hated him.
“Ennil,” Envesi prompted sharply, lingering beside the Gate.
He tore his eyes away and kissed Lulu's temple as he cradled her close. With the girl secure in his arms, he strode through the portal alongside the one-time Archmage.
The Gate closed and no matter how Medreal tried, magic still escaped her. Of all her duties, looking after Lumia was the only one that mattered, and she had failed. She squeezed her eyes closed, pressed a hand to the wound in her side and curled up on the floor.
With her last breath, she wept.
2
Response
With the thirtieth anniversary of Firal's coronation fast approaching, it was hard to believe there had been a time the capital city rebelled against her. Still, no matter how long she held the title, Firal didn't think she would ever be comfortable being a queen.