Serpent's Claim (Serpent's Touch 2)

“Thank you.” I smiled. “You look dashing yourself.”

The king’s long, hunter-green robe, embroidered with gold and gemstones, complemented his regal posture. The rich material draped over the chair, largely hiding it from view.

My breath caught in my throat as I turned to face the crowd gathered at the bottom of the stairs. The main hall I had wandered often, studying the artwork on the walls, was now filled with people. The wood-inlay floor was no longer visible under the feet of so many courtiers and the trains of the ladies’ gowns.

All attention immediately switched to us. The impact of so many stares landing on me was almost physical. I gasped softly.

The king chuckled.

“They’re here to see you, Amira. Greet them.”

They were here to watch their dying king—who they must believe had lost his mind—marry his “exotic pet.” But I did as he said. I smiled and waved my hand in greeting, as a queen would.

Something clanked inside the staircase. The top landing jerked slightly, then smoothly moved forward, taking the king and me across the hall.

I gripped the side railing as the staircase rearranged itself, first folding into a straight vertical column, then unfolding into stairs again, only leading in the opposing direction now. The top platform connected with the wide balcony across from the grand clock.

The High Priestess and Councilor Delahon waited for us there.

The king took my hand in his, his rough skin scratchy and dry, his fingers stiff when bending around mine, but his smile was as wide as ever. He took me to the edge of the balcony, all the way to the railing of the intertwined tree branches.

Thousands of cheers erupted from the lake below. They fused into an explosion of noise, rising from the water to the highest branches of the trees.

The sight of the crowd took my breath away. Not a patch of water could be seen. Every inch of the lake had been taken by boats, paddle boards, or simply people floating in the water. Their hands up in the air, they shouted, clapped, and cheered.

These couldn’t be just the residents of Ufaris. Word about the king’s wedding didn’t have much time to travel. However, some gorgonians must’ve come here from the nearby lands overnight.

I raised my hand to wave in greeting, and the crowd responded with another eruption of noise. Not all of them were happy about me marrying their king, I was sure. But a wedding was a cause of celebration. The overall energy of the people was positive.

What meaning did this marriage hold to them? As much as Lorsan lords loved war and conflict, the regular gorgonians cherished the period of peace and prosperity that marked the past few years of King Zeldren’s reign. With me at the king’s side now, there was hope for a smooth transition, without a new war breaking out among the High Lords.

A smooth succession, hope for future stability, and peace—all of those were good causes for celebration.

The High Priestess lifted her arms. The breeze from the lake caught the sleeves of her long, golden robe, billowing them like two wings in the air. She started the ceremony.

Her strong voice carried over the lake, easily drowning the noise of the crowd below. Two tall devices, positioned on each side of the balcony, caught and amplified the sound of her voice, making her words loud enough to be heard by everyone in Ufaris.

When it was the king’s turn to say the wedding vow, he squeezed my hand a little tighter.

“Amira, I promise you my trust and loyalty until the day the Great Serpent takes me.”

A wave of magic twirled around us, sealing his words. It was accompanied by the sounds of awe and shock from the crowd, amazed by the king’s words.

Like any promise, breaking a wedding vow resulted in damnation and death in Lorsan. Love was not something easily controlled. Therefore, gorgonians never vowed to love each other. Instead, they pledged the things they could actually give.

The king’s unconditional trust and loyalty were precious gifts no one in the kingdom had—except for me, now.

Human promises didn’t carry the same weight as the fae’s. I didn’t face the same consequences if I broke my vow. But I felt it deep in my heart when I said, “You’ll have my trust and loyalty, too, Your Majesty. I will stand by your side for as long as you are with me. And I will keep you in my fondest memories until the day I leave here, too.”

It was not just a wedding vow but a goodbye in some way. My eyes filled with tears, and I blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of them.

The king looked touched by my words. He took both my hands in his, then placed a kiss on my lips through my veil. This was the only kiss we’d ever shared.

The crowd cheered.

I might have just married the King of Lorsan, but my lifelong commitment was to them, to the people of the kingdom. They were the ones I had to pledge my loyalty to, and I had to work hard on earning theirs in return.

I longed to put it all into words for them. Yet when confronted with the thousands of faces turned up to me, I froze. The words deserted me. All I could do was just wave and smile again.

Councilor Delahon sealed the record of our marriage to be added to the records of other royal unions in the Archives. After that, we all ascended to the outdoor terrace, located in between the tree’s main branches.

Here, I was officially crowned as the Queen of Lorsan. The wreath of yellow water lilies was removed from my head and the identical copy of the king’s crown was attached to the circlet of my veil.

My crown held no magic like the king’s did, but wearing it held power. I was no longer the king’s toy, someone to gift, steal, or dismiss. I was the queen, and I felt the full weight of the crown on my head acutely the moment it was placed.

“Will Her Majesty address the court now?” Councilor Delahon asked the king, who turned to me.

“I don’t know. We shall ask Her Majesty herself.”

That was me. They addressed me as the queen. It was my duty to act accordingly even as my chest hollowed with trepidation at the idea of speaking to the thousands of people crowding the terrace.

Raised on a dais over them, I swept the place with my gaze. Faces of the courtiers met me, so many faces, framed by colorful, lavishly decorated senties. The eyes of some glared with poorly disguised hostility. Others appeared friendly. Most seemed expectant.

They all waited for me to speak, even as some wished for me to fail.

I drew in a lungful of air.

“People of Lorsan—” My voice broke, and I cleared my throat.

The courtiers weren’t the true representation of the people of Lorsan.

I turned to Councilor Delahon.

“I need to see them all.” I gestured widely, beyond the terrace, beyond the main royal tree of the king’s palace.

Crushing the silk of my skirt in my hands, I lifted the hem and walked off the throne platform. I crossed the terrace, the courtiers stepping aside, the crowd parting for me like the sea. I stepped to the railing on the very edge of the terrace to see the people on the surface of the lake below.

It looked even more crowded now. Strings of rafts laden with food and drinks stretched from one tree to another. Merchants on paddle boards squeezed through the throngs of vessels and people, selling refreshment to the crowd that wouldn’t disperse. People had gathered here for a celebration, and celebrating they were.

Some noticed me standing by the railing.