Page 46 of A Dance of Shadows

An uncomfortable prickle runs down my back. You’d think he’d be happy about my willingness to work around Marclinus’s intentions after all the times he’s chided me for thinking too narrowly in the past.

I lift my chin. “He hasn’t overtly said we can’t contain the snakes once they’re out of the field. I’d rather risk his anger than see Maud or Polin bitten.”

“Good to know you still have some of your priorities in order.”

I bite back the retort I’d like to make. Father used to hope that I’d come back from Dariu on my occasional visits withinside knowledge he could use against the empire—or at least to better defend our own people. He’s been frustrated by my seeming unwillingness to dig deeper and pry into areas that aren’t supposed to concern me.

If he had any idea how far I’ve gone—that my sacrifice wasn’t just for our country but to destroy our conquerors as well… If he had any idea how much I’ve been trying toprotectour people from the sort of vengeance Emperor Tarquin would have rained down on him if he’d acted on what I could have told him…

What would Father and my brother think of me if they knew the “heir” they just swore allegiance to is actually my child, not Marclinus’s?

The thought of telling them gives me a sickly satisfaction I know I can’t indulge. Risks aside, I’m not here to impress them.

It’s Aurelia they need to respect, not me.

That doesn’t mean I’m going to stand by while the commoners tackle Marclinus’s brutal demand on their own. Lorenzo stepped in during the challenge in Santia. I can face a few snakes.

Fuck our imperial foster brother if he thinks he can crush any of our spirits.

I step away from my family to snatch up a couple of the remaining sticks. Raul starts to hustle over from the watching crowd of Darium nobles, Lorenzo close at his heels, but I motion them away with a jerk of my hand.

I know my foster brothers would stand with me through this awful task, but Marclinus asked for the Coteans to clear the field. No doubt he’d see anyone else’s involvement as overt cheating.

The devouts advise all of us to approach the snakes carefully and quietly so they’ll remain as calm as possible. The cleric has ventured over to the woods to advise the civilians who’ve gathered additional sticks there.

I ease between the flowers. Banded asps are particularly difficult to spot amid irises because their scales ripple in stripes of purple and green nearly the same hues as the plants.

That was the core of Estera’s lesson in the old fable. People will take a glance and assume they know what they’re seeing, but that negligence can lead you into danger. You have to look closely and consider the details to know for sure what you’re dealing with.

Like right now, as I tread between the bobbing stems, something sinewy winds beneath the leaves that’s definitely not part of the flowers.

Taking a slow breath to steady myself, I lower the sticks. When I’m leaning closer, I can make out the asp’s head and the sheen of its scales.

In one motion, I tuck the end of the first stick under the snake’s middle and lift it into view. Before it can squirm off, I clamp it in place with the second stick.

Its head weaves with a threatening hiss, but the sticks give me enough distance to protect me from its fangs. Holding it in place as if with tongs, I retreat to the edge of the field so I don’t stomp on any other venomous creatures and hurry it over to the forest.

I don’t dare pick up my pace to even a jog, afraid I’ll drop the asp, but by the time I’ve marched several paces between the trees to where one of the city folk is holding a sack, my single lung has tightened. As I stride over to the man, a rasp creeps up my throat.

Extreme tension can make a little physical exertion much more intense.

The man dips into a hasty bow before jerking the top of the sack open. I toss the snake inside to join the one already squirming at the bottom and head back the way I came.

Two done, gods know how many more to go. But we’re beating Marclinus’s sick test.

I have to dodge the commoners hauling their own catches between the trees. While the snakes gnash their fangs and quiver their tongues, none of them are flailing too violently.

Marclinus might have done some reading in godlen fables, but I bet he has no idea that “snake-races” are a common childhood game around Delphine, partly inspired by the story of Estera. Although we play with garter snakes that don’t pose any real threat.

When I emerge from the trees, another robed figure has joined the Esteran cleric and her devouts at the edge of the field. His white clothing identifies him as a disciple of Elox, presumably a medic. I’d guess Father put in word for him to join us after I passed on the initial warning.

The necessity of his presence becomes obvious just a few moments later. A man farther across the field scoops up an asp between his sticks—and jerks with a cry as the flowers rustle by his calves.

A woman nearby sucks in a raspy breath. “Nole’s been bit!”

Even as she speaks, the man stumbles. The snake he caught tumbles from his grasp.

Riled by the temporary capture, it must shoot forward quickly. Another woman just a few paces away yelps and staggers with a bite of her own.

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