Page 37 of Serpent King's Revenge

I forced my eyes open to find my mother’s dead face inches from mine, her expression twisted in a silent scream.

"Go away!" My voice cracked, not from fear alone but from the rawness of my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing the nightmare would end.

And then, just like that, the weight vanished.

The crawling stopped.

I hesitated before daring to look again. When I opened my eyes, the room was back to its sterile quiet. No ghost hovered above; it had been a sick trick of my mind.

A nurse with a mask was at my bedside now, her hands skillful as she adjusted the IV drip. The liquid inside was probably what was keeping the pain at bay—at least the kind that came from flesh and bone.

It may have been making me hallucinate, too.

That was…less good.

I squinted at her through the haze. There was something about the way she stood, the tilt of her head as she worked on the tubing. Familiarity tugged at the edges of my battered consciousness.

"How are you feeling?" Her voice broke through the fog, speaking in Mandarin, bringing up memories. Those memories ached—memories of a woman speaking Mandarin to an injured child.

My mother…and me.

"Like I got hit by a truck," I muttered back in Mandarin, the words rough and heavy on my tongue.

She chuckled softly. "We're working on that."

My head throbbed as I tried to take in my surroundings. The infirmary was a blur of whites and grays, but I could make out other nurses moving quietly between beds. My eyes drifted to the door where two guards stood like statues. Even shifting my gaze made me wince; my body didn't just ache—it screamed with every heartbeat.

"What happened?" I asked, though I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

The nurse finished with the IV and straightened up, her movements practiced and precise. She didn't answer right away, perhaps weighing how much to tell a patient—or a prisoner.

"They thought you only had minor flesh wounds at first," she finally said, her words matter-of-fact. "But you went into shock. Then we noticed the internal bleeding." She paused. "You took quite a beating."

I tried to sit up, but it was like moving through wet cement. Pain flared, and I dropped back against the pillow with a groan.

"Easy," she chastised gently, pressing a hand on my shoulder to keep me down.

"Have I been here long?" The words were heavy on my lips. "My family—have they been told?"

"Ten hours, maybe," she replied, checking something on a chart. "And yes, your family knows."

"Shit." A curse slipped out before I could stop it. I didn’t want them trying anything to get me out. It was too dangerous. And if they knew I’d been hurt…

Her eyes met mine, a flicker of sternness in them, but it softened as she leaned closer. "Your family sent me," she whispered, voice barely above a breath. "The Sisterhood of Vipers."

That name jolted me more than any drug could. The Sisterhood of Vipers—my mother's legacy, a network of whispers and shadows.

They were the unseen hand, the quiet protectors.

And now, they were here for me.

Her eyes widened just a fraction, and then darted to the door. "Shift change. Don't react." Her voice was calm, but the urgency in it rooted me to the spot. I knew better than to flinch when there were eyes that could be watching.

I lay still as death while my mind raced. She was from the teahouse, the place where Ma used to hold court over steaming cups of jasmine tea. This woman had been one of Ma's confidantes. Recognition dawned on me like a slow sunrise, and with it, a sliver of hope.

"Is help coming?" My voice was raw, the words scratched out of my throat.

"Security's too tight," she murmured, her gaze never leaving mine. "But the insurgents are planning something. They’ll try to help you."

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