Prentice looked like he minded quite a bit, but when Sive shot him a pointed look, he gritted his teeth and shook his head. In the spirit of the moment, I turned to Marus and offered my hand. “Care to dance?”
“No.” His response was so instinctive, so abrupt, that we both laughed. Color crept up his face. “I’m no expert on serpents, but I know that almost everyone here learned to dance while learning how to walk.”
“Not everyone.” I nodded at Salem and Sive. This was maybe the third time Salem had convinced Sive to try dancing. She was abysmally bad, but Salem led well enough that she didn’t embarrass herself. Despite Salem’s keeping to dances that were tame by serpiente standards, appropriate for siblings or friends who weren’t intimate, Prentice watched them with a scowl.
“I don’t know how to dance,” Marus said.
“I’ll teach you.” There were plenty of fairly innocent dances that were also simple enough for Marus to learn.
He was so nervous that I almost felt sorry for him as he followed me to the edge of the plaza where serpents were dancing informally. Had I not had so much invested in that night, I might have told him he could leave.
“I can’t handle watching this disaster in the making,” Urban announced as he jogged to catch up with us. “Marus, relax. If I can tell you’re tense by watching you walk, you’re going to have a lot of trouble dancing.”
Marus looked mildly affronted, but before he could react, a shadow brushed across the ground. I looked quickly at the sky, where a single peregrine falcon was circling.
His voice a little too hopeful, Marus asked, “Do you need to go?”
The falcon was not simply any bird, but Nicias Silvermead, the second-in-command of the Wyverns—my honor guard on the few occasions when I needed one, as well as the rarely necessary police of Wyvern’s Court. Gretchen, the commander of the Wyverns, was a serpent and had requested the evening off for Salem’s reception. That left Nicias in charge, which meant that his seeking me out was for official reasons. Not a good sign.
My parents also must have seen the signal. They slipped through the crowd.
“Urban, Marus, good to see you both,” my mother greeted the young men politely. “Oliza?”
“Go,” Urban said. “I’ll take care of Marus while you’re gone.”
“Excuse me?” Marus chirped in surprise.
“I spent all day at your avian Festival,” Urban informed him. “You aren’t getting off so easy here just because there’s an emergency. Give me your hand. By the time Oliza gets back, we’ll have you ready for a dance.”
They looked at each other for a moment, Marus shrinking somewhat with acute discomfort, and Urban’s blue eyes shining as he challenged his primary competition. I could almost hear them both thinking, Is this really worth it? I worried about leaving them alone together, but if Nicias was looking for me, then I had bigger problems than male egos.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I told them.
“Do you have any idea what’s going on?” I asked my parents as the three of us pushed through the crowd to clearer ground.
They both shook their heads, but the answer was not long in coming. As soon as we were outside the mass of serpents, Nicias dove to the ground, transforming from a falcon into a young man with blond hair that turned silvery blue at the front, and worried icy blue eyes.
Nicias and I had been friends since infancy. The only falcon in Wyvern’s Court, he was as much an anomaly as I was as the only wyvern, and that bond had made us very close. That he was the only male my age who I knew would never try to court me also helped.
He had gracefully offered to take over for Gretchen for the evening, without speaking a word of regret about not being welcome at the reception. Salem might not have anything against feathers, but many serpents were still uncomfortable around a falcon—even one born and raised in Wyvern’s Court.
“Something wrong?” my mother asked. As always, Danica Shardae seemed to embody the blending of the two courts that I often tried to mimic. Her gold hair was pinned up with combs decorated with images of the serpiente goddess Anhamirak, exposing the hawk feathers at the nape of her neck and a necklace of twisted gold, with a pendant in the form of an Ahnleh, an ancient serpiente symbol meaning Fate. The necklace I wore every day had a coin stamped with the same symbol; it had been a gift from the dancer’s nest to my mother when they had ceremonially welcomed her into their ranks, shortly before my birth. Even though my mother was dressed like a serpiente dancer right then, she held herself with the calm poise of an avian lady while listening to Nicias’s report.
“I’m not sure,” Nicias said. “A pride of lions entered our land a few minutes ago. The leader says he has a message for the royal house of Wyvern’s Court.”
All the lions I knew of worked as mercenaries. Wyvern’s Court had never needed them, though they had offered to serve both the avians and the serpiente at various times during the long years of war and had occasionally been hired.
“Are they waiting in the Rookery?” I asked.
“In the courtyard, yes.”
As we started toward the eastern cliffs, my mother hesitated, glancing back at Marus and Urban. “Is it a good idea to leave them together?”
“Probably not,” I admitted.
“An avian and a serpiente dancing together to impress the recipient of their mutual affection,” my father mused. “It is bold, but not the most surprising thing I’ve ever heard of young men doing in their efforts to show off. They will probably be fine.”
“Probably?” I asked. The words were not as comforting as I would have liked.
We entered the Rookery courtyard to find six well-armed men and women watching us with a neutral attention. Every time I had spoken to the lions, they had been the epitome of courteousness, but even so, the sight of their soldiers unnerved me.
Their leader stepped forward and bowed. “Diente and alistair Zane Cobriana; Tuuli Thea and Naga Danica Shardae; Princess Oliza Shardae Cobriana. And Arami’ka Irene Cobriana,” Tavisan greeted us formally as my father’s younger sister—Salem’s mother—stepped into the room.
“I saw the three of you leave and came in case I was needed,” Irene explained when we all looked back at her.
“That’s yet to be seen,” my father said. “Tavisan, I understand you have a message for us?”
“I’m here on behalf of Kalisa, the alpha of the Vahamil pack,” Tavisan said. The wolves’ territory brushed against the northern borders of Wyvern’s Court. We had always had excellent relations with them. “My pride recently stopped in Vahamil land to trade. As you know, it is our way to ask the permission of the leader of any territory we stop in, so I requested an audience with the alpha. It was … not entirely what I had expected.
“Kalisa has been injured, severely. I was told that it was a hunting accident. It is possible that a successor will be chosen. Kalisa says she would like her allies to be present, so that if necessary she can introduce them to the new alpha and help ensure a continuing alliance between the Vahamil and Wyvern’s Court.”
I was told. Kalisa says. He was being very careful with his words.
“Why does it take six soldiers to deliver a message?” I asked.
“I have given you the message, as I was requested,” he replied. “Anything else I might tell you would be speculation.”
I glanced at my parents, but they both nodded for me to continue. “Is there other information you feel we should know?”
“It seems odd that the Vahamil would hire an outsider to deliver such important news. Normally my pride is asked to carry messages only across terrain that those sending them could not easily cross—which is not the case with the wolves—or in times when one does not want to place an important missive in the hands of someone of questionable loyalty. I do not know exactly how precarious Kalisa’s position is, or how many wolves are currently vying for leadership, but my impression is that there are not many she can trust.”
The Vahami
l had flourished under Kalisa’s leadership, but if she was perceived as weak, under their laws any wolf would have the right to challenge her. She might have said she was sending for the rulers of Wyvern’s Court to introduce us to a potential heir, but it seemed more likely now that she had called for her allies to try to protect her own throne.
My mother must have come to the same conclusion at the same moment, because she nodded and said, “We will go tonight. Our alliance with Kalisa has always been valuable to all of our people. It is important to make sure that any potential heirs appreciate that. Oliza, would you please give our regrets to Salem and the nest for needing to leave so suddenly?”
“Of course.”
“Do you need me to stay in Wyvern’s Court?” Irene offered reluctantly. She and my uncle, Galen, had intended to leave for the serpiente palace immediately after Salem’s reception that night. From there, they were headed east and wherever Fate took them. Their plans had been nearly half a year in the making, since Irene had announced her intent to take advantage of this era of peace by traveling the world with her mate.
My father shook his head. “Oliza will be here.”
I often acted in my parents’ stead when they were away. As they often reminded me, I would inherit the throne as soon as I chose my mate and was ready to claim it. In the meantime, I needed to live up to my position.
“I’ll send for the members of your guard to travel with you,” Nicias said to my parents. “I imagine you will want to leave immediately.”
“That would be best.”
“If you do not require our escort,” Tavisan said, “I would like to respectfully ask your permission to remain in Wyvern’s Court and visit your market tomorrow to replenish our supplies. We did not have time to trade with the Vahamil.”
The lions had occasionally passed through our lands for various jobs and had never caused trouble, so I said, “As long as your stay is peaceful, you are welcome in our market.”
“Thank you, milady.”
Irene stayed to confirm plans with my parents, assuring me that she would return to the reception before going on her way, and I started back toward the southern hills. If the events in Wyvern’s Court had been anything other than the initiation of a cobra into the dancer’s nest, I would have asked to go with my parents, but I understood why my remaining there was important. The dancers were the heart of the serpiente; it was essential to make clear that Salem could join them and still be part of the royal house.
Serpiente celebrations frequently lasted until dawn, but anxiety about Kalisa had stripped me of my energy. I wondered how early I would be able to leave without causing concern.
The first person I saw was not Marus or Urban but a young woman with the black hair and garnet eyes of the serpiente royal house—a cousin I had learned of only a few months before, when Nicias had brought her back from the falcon island of Ahnmik. She seemed to be watching the dancers from the edge of the crowd.
“Good evening, Hai,” I said. “It is good to see you out and about.”
When she did not reply immediately, I thought she had not heard me, and I wondered whether I should speak again. Hai was the only daughter of my father’s oldest brother, but she had been born and raised on Ahnmik. She could pass as Cobriana, but I knew she considered herself a falcon, like her mother.
The combination of these two heritages had nearly driven her mad. When Hai had first arrived at Wyvern’s Court, she had been comatose, and most people had assumed she would never recover. Even now that she was awake, it was evident that her mind was still not completely right.
“Oliza,” she said to me after a moment. “Don’t patronize me.”
“I didn’t mean to. I simply do not see you in the market much. I’m sure Salem is pleased that you are here.”
She shrugged. “I’m sure the cobra has other things on his mind … like flirting with a pretty hawk and waiting for her alistair to hit him.”
I sighed, deciding to end the conversation while it was still sane and mostly civil. I had known Hai to break into periods of complete incoherence.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to find Marus.”
She nodded and replied loftily, “You’re excused.”
It didn’t take long to find someone who could point me toward Urban and Marus. My two well-known rival suitors’ attempting to dance together was a spectacle even by serpiente standards.
Aside from his jumping whenever Urban moved closer and they accidentally touched, Marus seemed to be dealing well with Urban’s instruction. Every now and then one of the young men would murmur something, usually too soft for me to hear but clearly less than flattering.
Watching them gave me some hope. Neither looked exactly happy, but I would have been shocked if they had. After all, they were not just from opposite sides of the court, they were rivals. However, the competition seemed to have driven both of them to do something they otherwise would not have considered; Urban had issued this challenge, and Marus had accepted it.
Urban noticed my presence. He smiled at me and then moved a little closer to Marus to say something that made the raven blush. A moment later, the sound of a familiar, bell-like laugh drew my attention to where Sive and Salem were still dancing together. Prentice looked as if he was on the verge of reclaiming his pair bond, but Rosalind was doing her best to keep him occupied.
I looked away from Urban and Marus only for an instant, and in the next moment, I heard a sound that could only have been a punch connecting with skin.
I spun around just in time to see Urban stumble back, one hand going to his bleeding lip. Serpiente tempers being what they were, I had time to take exactly one step forward before Urban retaliated with a blow that sent Marus to the ground.
“I forgot. You’re a bird,” Urban spat. “You wouldn’t recognize a come-on if it bit you.”
“And you wouldn’t recognize a lady if she slapped you,” Marus retorted as he pushed himself up.
“Sure I would—one just did.”
Marus made another move toward Urban, but Salem grabbed the raven’s arm. That prompted Prentice to come to Marus’s defense, and practically the entire population of the southern hills to come to Salem’s.
Recognizing the possibility for real violence, I took a deep breath and let out a wyvern’s shriek. It was sharper than the hunting cry of a golden hawk and more dangerous than the hiss of a king cobra, and it made everyone freeze in their tracks.
“Salem, do you really want to let your reception turn into a brawl?” I asked. My cousin shook his head and took a step away from Marus and Prentice. “Do you want that to be the memory your parents take with them when they leave tonight?” I was aware that my voice was less than warm, and I didn’t care. “Prentice, perhaps you should talk to Sive before you put her in the middle of a riot.” Prentice’s eyes widened, and he turned his head to locate his pair bond. Sive had pressed herself against the edge of the dais, trying to get out of the way of the crowd. “Marus. Urban. What happened?”
“Oliza, he …” Marus hesitated, as if realizing that his excuse was not enough to justify the fight. “I lost my temper.”
“So I saw.” I sighed. I doubted that Urban was entirely innocent. No doubt each of them had been trying to bait the other. Marus had just been unlucky enough to throw the first punch.
Marus stepped forward. “Oliza, you didn’t hear—”
“Don’t bother,” Prentice said. “You’re an avian and you hit a serpent. That’s all anyone here cares to see.”
“Prentice!” Sive exclaimed.
Prentice looked at his pair bond briefly, but his next words were for me. “Are you going to say otherwise?” he challenged. “Tell me it matters to you that the snake was making intentionally inflammatory remarks.”
Urban protested. “I wasn’t—”
“Or are you just going to say, ‘That’s their way,’ and ignore it,” Prentice continued, “the way you always ignore the culpability of serpents when their behavior b
ecomes more than one of us can stand?”
“Thank you,” Marus said respectfully to Prentice, “but you don’t need to defend me. I could have walked away. I shouldn’t have hit him.” The words obviously pained him. I suspected that this, like the apology he had offered back on the avian hills, was a bow to my sensibilities and not an admission of his own beliefs.
“Urban hit back fast enough,” Prentice muttered.
“Prentice, I think it’s time we left,” Sive suggested, taking his arm. “This is a private matter, and it seems to be under control.”
As they left, I noticed that sometime during the argument the rest of the serpents had backed off as well.
Marus shrugged. “Even I know enough about serpiente culture to know that you don’t hit one without expecting to be hit back.”
“Either of you have anything else to say?” I asked.
They both shook their heads. “But I’m not going to volunteer to help any of your other suitors in the future,” Urban said. “I don’t know where I came up with that idea in the first place.”
The night had been a fabulous disaster. Most serpiente would continue to celebrate for hours yet, but Urban spoke for all of us when he announced with obvious frustration, “It’s been a long day. I’m going to bed.”
He and Marus exchanged one last look, too tired to be quite hostile, before he turned back toward the nest.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Oliza,” Marus said hopefully.
I nodded, and he changed form and took wing back to his home in the northern hills.
I used the disruption both as an opportunity to pull Salem aside and summarize what Tavisan had told us and as an excuse to leave early without offending anyone. I had spent many nights curled in the arms of the dancers, enjoying their warmth and company, but that night quiet solitude was all I wanted.
At the last moment, I changed my direction so that instead of immediately going to the Rookery, I stepped into the forest beyond the northern hills. I needed to calm down before I would be able to sleep.