Serpent's Claim (Serpent's Touch 2)

“Do you still think there is something better for me out there?”

“Of course there is,” he said with conviction. “No sorrow can last forever. Pain is not as enduring as people think. Even the darkest clouds recede and pass with time.”

“Are you telling me to move on and get over you?”

“What?” He leaned back, staring at me with shock. “Why would I say that?”

“Isn’t that what people usually say? Move on. Let go. Get over it.”

“Nonsense.” He scoffed. “I wanted you to climb out of that pit of despair you’ve been floundering in. But I don’t want you ever letting go of me. Why would you even think that?” He looked genuinely upset, even hurt, now.

“That’s what they said in the books I’ve read,” I tried to explain. “They'd tell me to search for happiness elsewhere instead of pining after you for the rest of my life.”

He squinted at me. “Then, you should probably find something else to read. Archives hold plenty of books. Some may be too boring for my taste, but you have much more patience than I do. I’m sure you’d find something there that hopefully wouldn’t advise you to forget me.”

The way he wrinkled his nose in distaste made me smile.

“How could I ever forget you, Kyllen?” I released a brief laugh.

He watched me, a smile forming on his lips. “I feared I might never hear the sound of your laugh again.”

He had taught me how to laugh. And now, he was making sure I didn't forget how.

“Did the picture make you smile?” a voice burst from the shadows. It popped the bubble of light around Kyllen and me.

I blinked, finding Lord Adriyel at my side.

He inclined his head, gazing at me with curiosity. “Or did you have a vision?”

Kyllen was gone. The regular life of the palace resumed, with its usual noise, color, and movement. I was awake, fully dressed, standing in front of the same picture I had admired earlier. Had Kyllen been here at all? Had I spoken to him?

Momentarily forgetting whether the protocol demanded I bow or curtsy to Lord Adriyel, I did both, which seemed to amuse him.

“What is a vision?” I asked.

He shook his head with a ghost of a smile. “I said it in jest. Because of the way you looked—stunned or day-dreaming. Only hags can bring visions, and we haven’t had a royal hag at the palace since King Zeldren banished the last one for daring to criticize his actions.”

“If there was a hag who brought a vision, could one see another person in it?”

He looked intrigued. “Have you seen someone?”

“Never mind…” I shook my head. The last thing I wanted was to discuss something so personal with a man I hardly knew.

“Sometimes, visions are used to connect with those who’ve passed away,” he said. “Spirits can be coaxed from the afterlife for brief visits.”

“The spirits of dead ones?”

“Yes. In order to travel, the spirit needs to be free of the body, and the body cannot live without its soul.”

“Of course…” I turned back to the picture on the wall, pretending to study it.

I needed a moment to adjust to reality again and to the fact that I had just been visited by a ghost that looked, felt, and kissed just like the man I knew and loved.

The battle depicted in the image on the wall was taking place at a junction where one wide stream merged with another. The warriors on both sides were gorgonians. Some rode giant, midnight-blue snakes with plumes of either fins or feathers on top of their diamond-shaped heads. Some used short, easy-to-maneuver paddle boards to navigate the turbulent waters that were tinted red with blood of the wounded and dead.

“The Battle of Two Rivers,” Lord Adriyel said. “You seem fascinated by it. Do you like the picture?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” It was masterfully made, no doubt. But the realism of it was off putting, considering this was a battle scene, with people being murdered. “People are dying here, drowning…”

“Gorgonians can’t really drown,” he noted.

“How about this one?” I pointed at a warrior with an arrow sticking from his neck. His mouth was opened wide in a silent scream. Only his head and arms remained visible above the foamy water as he fought the dangerous rapids in the wake of the serpents’ tails around him.

“This one has an arrow in his neck.” Lord Adriyel pointed with his finger. “But that’s not the wound he will die from. There is another one, from an iron sword right under his last rib. Once he stops fighting to stay afloat, he’ll sink. Then, he’ll bleed to death while lying on the bottom of the river.”

“That’s…horrible.” I moved my gaze from the picture and stared at the embossed leather belt across the lord’s chest, instead. The black leather stood out in contrast to his white silk tunic.

“That’s war,” he said.

“Have you ever been to war?”

“Many times. The truce we’re currently enjoying only happened because the king is no longer able to personally lead an army. And, as is typical for him, he doesn’t trust anyone else to lead it for him.”

I ventured a glance at his face. It was a handsome one, beautiful in its midnight glow. His dark blue senties rested upon his shoulders, which was unusual for gorgonians. Normally, their senties were always in motion, their eyes scanning the room, their tongues tasting the air, especially when the person was in public, surrounded by others.

Lord Adriyel either felt absolutely comfortable at the king’s palace or he wanted everyone to believe that he did.

“Well, the king has other things to worry about right now, doesn’t he?” I said.

He tilted his head with a slight squint of his eyes. “What are the things the king is occupying himself with nowadays?”

His silvery-blue eyes displayed polite interest, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt, answering sincerely, “The king is dying. He’s fighting a lot of pain every day.”

“He has a lot to repent for.” Lord Adriyel clearly misunderstood me. I was talking about physical pain, but he appeared to mean an emotional burden.

Curiosity prompted me to ask, “Like what?”