He cannot stop reading. It is well into the night and reaching the first tendrils of morning, but the words are endless.
I do not know whether I have made a grave mistake or saved my own life. I met with the Prince regent of the nation today. He is a terrifying man. Instead of the seat thrones the Aeglian Regime favored, the Cobrisi chose a lofty hanging bar with which their Chord tails coil around the bar, the rest of their body sitting gracefully above it all. Their arms fold across their chest, staff in one hand and sickle in the other. Regardless of indentured status, the Cobrisi, even the nobles seem to prefer the Chord form. The worst trait they retain is their eyes. Like the mirages in the desert after a day without water, they trick you into a sense of hope with their false compassion that strikes you deep, breeding an even deeper sense of defeat when you realize it's only an illusion. Their gentle lulling speech whispers in your ear, echoing in the marble prison. I have yet to hear any of them raise their voice. It only makes the whispers more frightening. Walking up and into the pit, my shackles and heartbeat were like thunder in the mountains echoing on the walls. The room is designed so that the floor is deeper in the center than at the peripheries where the guards and advisors lounge, their tails tucked underneath them. I am not alone in my questioning, though I do not know if that is the proper term for a pre-meal small talk. One Serpent asks the desert Musan next to me how old she is. She tells them in a withered, stretched voice, "13." For a moment, I was that age as well. My birthday just past and I finally entered the domain of adults. That was the age I was kicked out of my parents' home, as others my age do. I imagine saying goodbye to my parents and aging grandmother. The coming-of-age pack slung over my shoulder. I imagine the first few days I had, the run-ins with the Corvids. Then I imagine this young girl, possibly about to get married, when the world comes crashing down on her, taking her husband and her future. Even I can sense her despair and resignation in the curve of her shoulders and the down cast eyes. She and I were one in the same. Kin and kith. They do not ask for my age though. Then they ask her, "Do you have a husband?" Her eyelashes touch her cheeks once and a tear falls down on one side. She does not speak, instead only shakes her head. I wonder if her tear was for the love they had or the love they never had. I hope at least it was the former. It is better to have had experienced love than to die fearing you were always alone, and will evermore be so. I would choose you over a lifespan of a eagle knowing nothing of you. Finally the Viper gestures to the table seat placed on the other side of his divan and asks her whether she enjoys the taste of fruit. Her eyes widen and her primal instincts glow in her pupils at the offering of sweet nectarines, peaches and dragon fruit that a poor Musan like her may have only tasted once in her life. She nods and hesitantly sits down on the cushion, tail tucked close. Her hands shake as she reaches an apple, ruby red. The Viper nods, encouraging her to eat. I can barely catch when he says, "Don't worry, eat as much as you'd like. I will not harm you." 'Yet' hangs silently in the air. The others who have been filed in before and after me have also been taken charge of. The serpents feed them with irresistible luxuries. I am the only one who has been left and there is only one other person left to feed. The Prince Regent's eyes weigh heavily on my shoulders as my blood kin feast and are lured into the nests of their captors. I do not waver and I refuse to take part in any of this nonsense. Your words were a pillar of strength to me in these times. You once told me that it is most frustrating when a creature of a lower caste does not fall for the natural traps set up for them by evolution. So I locked my jaws and knees, pressed your memory against my lips and stared back. To me, facing the enemy is not as terrifying as not knowing them. I plant the image of those burning eyes into my mind and anchor my rage and wrath to each and every fleck of color in the irises. I have fought for freedom and I will not let fear keep me captive. We are alone in the room, with only guards as witnesses. He slides off his pedestal to hand his ornaments to an attendant, a blue-tongued skink with brown freckles along its jaw. "Do you like my palace?" The Prince sweeps his hand around the room, ornate gold geometric patterns sprawled across the lofted ceiling and walls. I do not break eye contact. I tell him, "I can't say I have an appreciation for interior decorating. I was always someone who appreciated the sun, earth, wind and trees for what they were, not what I make of them." I don't know what drove me to say the things I did, but once my tongue loosened, I could not stop. "Though I suppose a ground crawler like you would not understand the beauty of the treetops when they meet the thunderclouds and dance with the music of a storm." The sharp eyes narrow and the room deadens with growing anger. The Prince's tongue flickers in and out briefly before the lips spread into a long smile. "I have never met a Musan like you. Where do you hail from?" As he speaks, he moves closer and closer, his tail encircling me slowly. I remain still despite my desire to run. He continues, "You smell of fear, I know it well, yet you do not react as you should. Right about now, you should be trying to escape in your ... lesser form."His face stays just above my shoulder, his tongue grazing my cheek with every word. "I would not make it very far. You would have two guards at each door of this room, and several more patrolling. I do not know much of this palace, but I have served in a Court long enough to know that." My voice remains miraculously steady as the tail wraps around me slowly. His silibant voice whispers in my ear. "And which Court was that? You did not answer my other question so perhaps you can answer this one." THe feeling of cool scales against my legs send shivers up my back. They are not the enjoyable sort. "My family served the Lord Pyrus and then Vyrus and finally Vycar before the revolution of which I fought in." "Which side were you fighting for?" "The side that won." It is said that serpents cannot laugh but the low hiss that filled the rooms replicated the notion well. The coils unwrap around me and I am free once more. He returns to the elevated platform and clasps his hands at his back. "The Aquilans were an arrogant and violent family. We of the Northern Nations know of Pyrus' psychotic desire for power and land. WE lost much of our richest lands due to his greed. Anyone who fought against his legacy is at least not an enemy of the Nagas" He claps his hands and several lizards adorned with heavy jewels scuttle in to sweep away the tables and plates. They disappear as quickly as they came with barely a sound. |