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“Because I’m the child from the prophecy,” Lucia said, her eyes steady on the girl’s.
“What?” Laelia dropped back down in her seat, then stared at Lucia for several moments. “You’re the stolen child?”
Lucia nodded in silence, waiting for Laelia to put together the pieces and say more.
Finally, Laelia spoke again, her voice raspy. “When I was three years old . . . my mother was murdered right after two thieves stole my baby sister from her cradle in the night. My father searched everywhere, but no one knew anything—or else, they chose not to say what they knew. Soon after, he married again, and it was as if he forgot all about it, as if the loss of his daughter and wife no longer mattered to him.” Her expression grew haunted. “But that prophecy . . . it wasn’t about my sister. It was about my father. That’s what he always told us. He believed he was a sorcerer, and that one day he would save Paelsia from its dark curse. He believed that to be true his whole life, right up until the day he died.”
Lucia’s chest tightened with every word Laelia spoke. “Who is . . . who was your father?”
The girl scanned the tavern, as if suddenly afraid they might be overheard. “I try not to talk about him anymore. I don’t want anyone to blame me for all the things he did. That’s why I wear this mask when I dance.”
Lucia squeezed Laelia’s hand, hard, forcing her to snap her eyes back to hers. Eyes, she now realized, that were the exact same color as her own.
“Who was he?” she pressed.
Lines of pained concentration settled into Laelia’s face as Lucia forcibly pressed for the truth with her magic. “The former chieftain of Paelsia. Hugo Basilius.”
A stab of shock sliced through Lucia. She released the girl’s hand.
Chief Basilius. A foolish, ignorant man who taxed his people to death while he lived like a king. Murdered by King Gaius after being tricked into helping him conquer Auranos.
His people had believed he was a sorcerer. They’d believed he was a living god, when he was nothing but a fraud. A selfish, delusional, lying fraud.
Laelia’s snake slithered, wrapping itself tighter around her neck, as if trying to give its mistress a reassuring hug.
“You’re my sister,” Laelia said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lucia stood up. “I must leave. Now.”
Laelia grabbed her hand, stopping her. “No, please. Please stay. We need to speak further. You’re my sister—and you have money. You need to help me.”
Lucia shut her eyes and summoned fire magic to her hand. Laelia gasped and yanked her hand back, her skin red and blistering. “Stay away from me,” Lucia hissed. “I want nothing to do with you.”
Finally, Lucia had the answer she’d been seeking for so long. And it only made her feel emptier than she ever had before.
She had no real family. And she never would.
how was beginning.
Lucia was here to find a dancer known as the Goddess of Serpents, and now she knew that she was in the right place. As the trio’s melody hit its first crescendo, a young woman emerged from behind the stage. Her arms, legs, and face were streaked with golden paint, and her raven-black hair was long, falling nearly to her knees, with slender braids scattered around her face. Her blue eyes were heavily outlined with kohl. She wore an ornate jeweled mask that covered half of her face, and all that covered her lithe, tanned body was a costume of diaphanous scarves and veils. Such an outfit wouldn’t have turned a single head in a more exotic locale, like Kraeshia, but here it was a shocking sight, at least to Lucia. But the most shocking aspect of the girl’s appearance was not her revealing outfit; rather, it was the large, snow-white boa constrictor draped over her shoulders.
The crowd roared with approval as the Goddess of Serpents danced and swayed her hips to the music, as her pet snake’s tongue shot out every few seconds, as if searching for its next meal.
When the dance ended, the crowd cheered for more, and the snake goddess blew them all kisses, promising to return later that afternoon.
She was about to retreat backstage when Lucia reached into her drawstring purse and pulled out a handful of coins, setting them on the table before her. Lucia watched the dancer stop, raise a curious brow at the clank and sparkle of silver, then turn around and walk over to the table. She stood before Lucia and Kyan, offering them both a big smile.
“Welcome to The Purple Vine, friends,” she purred as she stroked the head of the white snake still wrapped over her shoulders like a scaly shawl.
Lucia pushed the coins toward her. “Sit with us for a moment.”
There was only a slight hesitation before the dancer snatched up the coins, wrapped them up in one of her scarves, and took a seat.
Suddenly, Lucia found that she was nervous, and it had very little to do with the serpent. How ridiculous. She was the one in control here. Silver would buy her the answers she needed, and if it didn’t, her magic would.
The barmaid returned with their ciders and Kyan’s stew. Lucia waited for her to leave before she spoke another word.
“The Goddess of Serpents is such a lovely name,” Lucia said, willing her voice to stay calm and even. “But what’s your real one?”
