Serpent's Claim (Serpent's Touch 2)

AMIRA

“Your Majesty,” Councilor Delahon addressed the king when he and I took our seats at the round table in the council meeting room.

It had been ten days since our wedding. As the queen, I now attended every single one of the king’s official meetings and functions. I was no longer sitting on a cushion at the king’s feet, either, but had my own chair placed to his right.

“We received a message from Sarnala,” the councilor reported. “The werewolves accepted your proposal for the levee.”

“They’re offering their assistance with design and construction, too,” Councilor Zivras added, adjusting the wide sleeves of his purple robe.

I wasn’t that surprised at the werewolves accepting our proposal. The prosperity of their border communities largely depended on the trade with gorgonians. Desperation was often the reason behind their raids and attacks when the trade was forced to stop.

“That’s great news.” I smiled, elated.

Councilor Delahon acknowledged my excitement with a slight bow. “They’re requesting the maps we have of the area and sending gifts for the king to celebrate the start of this collaboration.”

“Building the levee is a wise decision.” Councilor Zivras nodded. “New for Lorsan, but necessary in this case.”

“A clever solution,” Councilor Oharen praised.

His words were met with a rumble of approval from around the table.

The king smirked. “Tell them to send the presents fit for the queen.”

“The queen?” All twelve councilors turned to me, and I straightened my spine under their attention.

Since I became their queen, the councilors no longer dared dismiss my comments outright, but they rarely voiced their approval, either. Without the king’s endorsements, even the crown on my head didn’t add much weight to my words yet.

Now, they muttered in confusion, casting questioning glances at me.

“You’re fools!” the king barked. “The levee was Queen Amira’s idea all along. She was the one who came up with it. She knew better than to present it as hers, though, because you would’ve had a much harder time accepting it if she did. But she deserves all the credit for it, nevertheless.” He moved his heavy stare along the table. “You’re idiots if you can’t see the value of a thought regardless of whose head it came from.”

The councilors shifted in their seats. Some wouldn’t look at me, but those who met my gaze had a new respect in their eyes.

I tossed a grateful glance at the king. It’d take time, patience, and many more sound decisions on my part to convince the Council to fully accept me. But this seemed to be a step in the right direction.

When I climbed into the king's nest that night, he found my hand right away. Since our wedding night, he hadn’t sent me back to my nest by the window or to the queen’s quarters. I’d been sleeping in his nest, holding his hand and listening to the deep rumble of his snoring every night.

“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for speaking for me today.”

“Let’s hope I’ll never have to do it again,” he replied. “The councilors are old and set in their ways, but they have to realize you have a mind of your own and opinions that are worth listening to.”

The next morning, on the eleventh day of our marriage, I woke up to an unusual quiet. There was only the soothing trickle of water in the waterfalls, the soft rustle of the wind in the branches outside, and the hushed crackling of the wings of the lighting insects.

The snoring was gone.

And I knew. I knew the king was no more.

I sat up in bed. I put his head in my lap, his senties stiff and motionless, and I cried.

Things had happened just the way they had between us for a reason. I knew the king would’ve never taken his time to get to know me or to form any kind of attachment if I met him when he was younger. He would’ve irreparably hurt me, ruining any chance for us to ever become either true lovers or friends. But I still wished he’d lived longer. As much as I had been preparing to lose him, I didn’t feel ready when he passed. I cried bitterly, mourning him.

But I also hoped that the king’s turbulent spirit was whisked by the Great Serpent into the afterlife he’d believed in.

King Zeldren might’ve been a true monster most of his life, but I had been lucky to witness the kinder, gentler side of him. I’d glimpsed his remorse, and I wished he’d find peace and forgiveness in whatever world he had gone to.

That was how Kiris and his helpers found us that morning—the king dead and me crying with his head in my lap.

“Goodbye.” I kissed the king’s forehead, his skin cold and rough like the bark of an old tree. “Thank you for being my friend when I needed one so badly.”

The funeral took place in the afternoon of the same day. They dressed him in a gray-brown robe—the color of decay and mourning in Lorsan—and put a dress of the same color on me.

King Zeldren’s body was laid to rest upon the Funeral Mound under the great royal tree—the place where every king before him had lain.

I stayed under the tree long after the official ceremony was finished, all proper seals had been attached to the records, and most people had left.

The sun touched the horizon, its reddish-golden glow highlighting the ripples on the surface of the lake. It got darker under the dome of the tree trunk. Even the people most loyal to the king or most curious to see the human queen up close had left already.

The guards assigned to protect me kept to the edges of this water crypt. They obviously preferred the crimson golden rays of the setting sun to the eerie green semi-darkness under the tree.

It was time for me to go, too, but I lingered.

King Zeldren had never needed anyone. On the contrary, he’d been fiercely protective of his personal space. Yet at the very end of his life, he didn’t like being alone. I wondered if that was why he’d kept me to begin with—he’d needed the company of a live person to keep the ghosts of his past at bay.

Not a soul remained near the Funeral Mound now, and I couldn’t bring myself to leave him completely alone here.

Sitting on one of the large river rocks surrounding the Funeral Mound, I adjusted the edge of the king’s silk robe over his chest.

“How about one last goodnight story, Your Majesty?” I said. “I don’t believe I’ve ever told you about Kyllen’s learning how to shoot a bow, have I? It’s a funny one.”

My eyes still felt sore and swollen from all the crying, but I smiled, remembering the stories we’d shared, the king’s dry chuckle, and the way he rubbed his hands in anticipation.

Sorrow gripped my heart. My chest tightened.

King Zeldren had been a friend and a mentor. I’d grown genuinely attached to him. And now…I lost him. Just like I’d lost Radax. And Kyllen… Was it my fate to lose everyone I ever cared about? Was I destined to go through life completely alone? With no friends and no family?

“I’d love to hear a funny story,” a male voice said. Its echo bounced off the ceiling, resonating under the dome.

I recognized the voice and the man who stood upright on a paddle board that slowly drifted my way.

“Lord Adriyel.” I lifted a hand in greeting. As the queen, I was no longer required to bow to a lord, so I didn’t.