This is an ongoing companion piece to be read after completing the Snakesblood Saga. Because it takes place during the final chapter of the last book, it will be very full of spoilers. It’s also unedited first draft fluff… just for fun! Read at your own risk, and expect installments no closer together than once a month.

* * * * *

“I’ve tried not to bring it up. I know it’s uncomfortable. I find it uncomfortable.” There was no preamble to soften the harshness of the subject; it was easier that way. Rune had spent enough time avoiding questions. He simply needed to know. To understand, and to temper his expectations. He held them now, mindful that they not stir his temper or any other feelings. “But we’ve never discussed moving on. What led to it. What made you decide I wasn’t coming back.”

For a long time, he’d assumed it was anger that kept them apart. He knew better now, but it hadn’t brought him ease. Whether or not she’d been angry didn’t matter. Things had still ended with the two of them separated.

With her choosing to make a life with someone else.

To his surprise, Firal sighed, her expression one of relief instead of the dismay he’d expected. “You made that sound as if it would be far worse.”

What else had she imagined he might ask? He couldn’t fathom. “I can ask something worse, if you’d prefer.” He had plenty of those sort of questions, too, but starting simply was important. If they were to build anything of substance, they needed a foundation, and setting reasonable expectations was the most logical first brick.

Whether he could build with the answer she gave him, he did not know.

“We’ll start with the easy things.” She tried to smile, but it was false and fleeting, and she paced beyond him to meander down the garden path. “I didn’t give up easily, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He hadn’t meant to make any such accusation. “Even if you had, there would have been a reason for it.”

Firal shrugged. Maybe it made no difference to her. Yet she did not continue with her answer for some time.

He followed a few paces behind her while she thought, his hands clasped behind his back. He was not a patient person, but his teachers had done a thorough job of hammering diplomacy into him, and it was a skill that helped now.

Eventually, she stopped beside one of the patches of sword lilies. They were a cheerful splash of color, even in the night, though their blooms were the last of the season and not as bold as the early flowers. She touched the stem and tilted it to let her see the lilies better. “It was… for Lulu. If I am to be honest. It was a difficult decision, and one that went against everything I desired. But what I what I wanted with you, I was encouraged to find elsewhere. Or, rather, with Vahn, specifically. We married right away for her safety, but it wasn’t… that is, I don’t think we saw it as anything other than a political arrangement for a long time.”

Rune offered a slight nod as confirmation he was listening, though he gazed at her without really seeing. He had already known the reasons for their marriage. That was not why he asked. “And when you decided it was more than political?”

She lowered her hand. “That was something I learned over the course of many years.”

Duty. Not abandonment. Not even a desire to let go. It soothed as well as any healing balm she’d ever given him. He shut his eyes.

Firal turned and gave him no reprieve. “And you? What drove you to look elsewhere?”

He should have anticipated that. The question still made him flinch, but she was forthcoming; he should be, too. “Alcohol.”

One fine brow arched, though the rest of her expression remained unimpressed. “Then perhaps you should quit drinking.”

“Probably.” He’d recognized that failing in himself long ago. There simply hadn’t seemed to be a point to addressing it before the last few months, and in those months, he’d found it harder to let go than he’d anticipated. But she was right. He’d downed liquor earlier to dull the edges of unpleasantness that royal events held, yet even that dullness agreed with her. “I tend to make bad decisions when I drink.”

She stepped closer with a white lily in her hand. “And is this a bad decision?” Her tone was light, almost teasing, as she lifted the flower to tuck it behind his ear.

“No.” That answer came easy—as easy as raising his arm and letting his hand find her face. Her skin was soft beneath his fingertips, unlike anything he’d ever known. “This is the best decision I’ve made in a long time.”

A ghost of a smile brushed her lips and she tilted her face upward beneath his touch.

It be easy. The thought weighed so heavy on his mind that it was a wonder he could think at all. Yet for a moment, there were no thoughts, just his eyes settling on the inviting fullness of her lips and the innate concept of all that might follow. It stirred his pulse and a blossoming warmth in his chest, awakening cravings left dormant in his travels but always present, a seed of longing he’d carried his whole life. To be known—accepted—without doubt, without question. Something she had offered years ago, something he’d missed and wanted back with every ounce of fire in his soul.

She leaned closer, her eyes half-lidded, and the movement slid his thumb to the corner of her mouth.

His attention slipped to it, to the creases in the back of the joint and the rough edge of his nail, and the wave of uncertainty that followed was wholly unexpected.

This was what he wanted.

What he’d fought for.

What was meant to solve everything.

Yet having it now, touching her skin, seeing in stark contrast all the ways he’d fallen short—

Rune lowered his eyes and turned his face away. He almost withdrew his hand, but Firal lifted hers to catch it and hold his fingers in her grasp.

The gesture brought no relief, but he let his hand curl until his fingertips brushed her polished nails.

“I guess you like this version of me better.” He wasn’t sure why he said it. The alcohol, maybe—another poor decision to add to his ever-growing list.

Yet inexplicably, color rose in her cheeks and while she squeezed his hand, it felt more like nervousness than eagerness.

“It’s… an adjustment,” she said. She did not meet his eyes. “I’ll get used to it, I’m sure.”

“You’re allowed to say it. I know I was never…” The rest of what he meant to say escaped him, his thoughts a little too loose. Thinned out, like the moving clouds that veiled parts of the night sky.

The blush in her cheeks only intensified.

Rune studied her with a growing frown. “You do like it.” It almost wasn’t a question. He could see no alternative.

In spite of it, she pulled away and gripped her skirts, red to the tips of her ears. “Is it so terrible to think I could find the man I married handsome?”

Terrible wasn’t on the list of words that crossed his mind.

Then again, the list was sparse, and he faltered a moment, struggling to get even one of them to reach his lips. “I—that—”

Of all the things she could have said, he never would have imagined that.

That the one thing he’d allowed to keep him away, that he’d convinced himself was all that stood between him and the life he wanted, had never been any obstacle at all.

That in spite of everything he was and had been, it was enough.

It always had been.

Firal looked as if she had something more to say, but when she looked back to him, she froze.

A second later, a rough, familiar clearing of the throat demanded attention, and Rune turned.

Behind him, Garam stood with a stern expression and his arms crossed. “Your presence has been requested.” The former captain’s eyes flicked to Firal. “Both of you.”

This is an ongoing companion piece to be read after completing the Snakesblood Saga. Because it takes place during the final chapter of the last book, it will be very full of spoilers. It’s also unedited first draft fluff… just for fun! Read at your own risk, and expect installments no closer together than once a month.

* * * * *

The head librarian introduced Firal to half a dozen members of her staff before they tried to recruit her as part of their historical society. To her surprise—and relief—the councilor tutted and shook his head to discourage their pressing. It was too soon, he said, too close on the heels of a half-finished project that benefited the whole of the Triad.

“Besides,” Councilor Parthanus added once the others gave their reluctant nods, “once the newcomers are settled, it will be easier for her to bring people of note to the library for direct interview.”

A few thoughtful hums answered.

Firal could not help but raise her brows. She hardly knew which refugees would be considered ‘people of note’ or who they might wish to speak with. Tobias was a first thought, as was Minna, but if she took Minna to the capital to speak with the librarians, who would there be to look after Lulu?

Her father, of course. She mentally scolded herself for being so slow to consider it. She had never known what to expect of him as a parent, but he was certainly not uninterested. His approach with Lulu had been gentle and welcoming, without showing any eagerness to replace the father she’d lost, who she sometimes asked after or cried for. Firal appreciated his involvement and the girl had been fast to take a liking to him, though that was hardly a surprise. Rune had always gotten along with children. Those in Core had always welcomed his presence, in spite of things that should have made him frightful.

The councilor cleared his throat and Firal blinked twice to refocus her attention.

“Will that suffice, my lady?” Councilor Parthanus smiled, but his tone was gently urging, as if he’d repeated himself. He likely had.

“Forgive me, I was just trying to determine where such interviews might fit. I trust you will want me to be present, and not simply recruit others for the purpose.” She smiled back and regretted that she’d been roped into such a conversation at all, even if the librarians all seemed eager to work with her. It was not that she didn’t appreciate it; having a place where she felt valuable and welcome was important. While she had not yet come to long for it, she knew she would. Yet she had never liked being pressed to make decisions on a whim. Those choices were always the ones that haunted her, whether they were for better or for worse.

“Your presence would be paramount,” the head librarian—a woman whose name Firal had already forgotten—said with an eager light in her eyes. “I can think of no one better to add context to their information than the woman who led them.”

Firal did not agree, though she appreciated the flattery. She could think of a hundred other people better suited to the task of embellishing and interpreting—all she had ever done was sit and rule, something that separated her from both the people she looked after and the things they experienced. How much more of her own country’s culture and history might she have experienced if she’d been in out there, living like everyone else?

Before she could think of a diplomatic dismissal, something shifted in the faces of both the councilor and the librarians. Amusement, surprise. Nervousness. She tensed but a breath before hands slid over her eyes from behind.

“Guess who,” came familiar whispered words beside her ear.

Goosebumps prickled up the back of her neck and she fought back a shiver as she touched his fingers, so soft and smooth and ordinary that she marveled. “Daemon,” she murmured.

His chuckle warmed her heart as he peeled his hands away and turned her to face him. “No one has called me that in a very long time.”

That he spoke to her in their mother tongue raised more than one eyebrow, and the small group of people she’d been with shuffled about as if to pretend they did not eavesdrop. All the same, she caught a gleam of interest in the councilor’s eye as Rune drew her away from their audience and toward the open ballroom floor where other couples swirled.

“I have other things I might call you,” Firal suggested. “Where have you been?”

“Avoiding responsibilities.” He did not even flinch. “I appreciate your assistance in escaping them.” His hand settled on her waist and his eyes latched onto the diadem pinned to her hair.

Firal followed his steps far more easily than the first time they’d danced and wondered at how her grace was not the only thing that had so radically changed. “Thank you.”

The gratitude startled him and his gaze snapped to hers before he realized she meant it for the jewels. Then he grew more serious, a shade more guarded, and gave an indifferent shrug. “You’re royalty. You should look the part. People will have expectations.”

Which was not why he had selected something for her. No matter what he claimed, she knew he had always cared about appearances and what others thought—it was half of what had drawn them together in the first place. But that he dismissed it so readily as simple necessity that she knew there was more to it.

He wanted her to have it.

He regretted that she did not have more.

He just wouldn’t say it.

“I don’t care about their expectations,” she said. “As long as I meet yours.”

Rune almost made a wrong step. His recovery was rough. “Sorry. I haven’t done this since…”

There was no need to explain.

“I suppose you’ll have to relearn, now that you have new feet.” She smiled as he twirled her and for a moment, she closed her eyes and envisioned the ballroom in Ilmenhith, where they first danced. The floor had been far more crowded then, full of magelings and young soldiers indulging in the rare sharing of a celebration.

“I wouldn’t call them new, but I will say you should open your eyes. You’re putting far too much trust in my ability to get this right.” In spite of the teasing, his next steps were sure, and he spiraled her close in his arms.

“Sorry.” She smiled as he gave her a squeeze and then released her again. When she did open her eyes, it was to take a proper look at him. He’d dressed in midnight blue—a color that matched her dress, now that she saw them together—and his coat was a distinctively Ilmenhian cut, with silver embroidery on the collar and sleeves. It suited him, and it suited the life he’d had before, for all that it was different from how he’d presented himself then. “I was just remembering the solstice ball. Do you recall it?”

“I could never forget.” A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, soft and almost sheepish. “I was in love with you then, too.”

It was only then that it struck her how rarely he’d used such words. She’d heard them when he’d first confessed his feelings and again when he had promised his feelings remained, but in the months they’d been together, it had been his actions that showed it, not words.

Honeyed words had rolled so easily off Vahn’s tongue.

The thought of him sent a pang of sadness through her heart and she tried to scour the thoughts away.

There was no competition between the two men. Had Vahn lived, there likely still would not have been. He had sown betrayal and harvested the reward, but even knowing he had severed those ties himself, she still grieved. Grieved his loss, and the loss of what she had believed had bloomed between them.

Now was not a time for grief.

She made herself smile. “It was your birthday, wasn’t it? The ball?”

“Near enough to it,” Rune replied. “The disadvantage of being born near important holidays is that the day is often overshadowed.” He twirled her under his arm and her skirts swished wide and then wrapped around her legs.

She spun the other way to unwrap them. “Considering you never told me when it was, I assumed it didn’t matter much to you.”

“It mattered when I was young. Once I was older, I think I mostly despised it. Existing hasn’t always been the happiest experience for me.”

Something for which she could not blame him. There were those to whom life was needlessly cruel; he had suffered more than most.

Firal mustered a playful smile. “I suppose I’ll just have to ensure the next one is noteworthy enough that the solstice won’t overshadow it.”

He almost smiled back. “I don’t think anything could overshadow you.”

Inexplicably, given her age and the relationship they were supposed to have, warmth bloomed in her cheeks.

She wasn’t used to that sort of sweetness, not from him. Yet her shy delight was short-lived, for the next moment she looked at him, he gazed past her and his guard was up.

Firal turned her head to see what had changed his disposition so swiftly. Across the room, the king walked with a pack of foreign dignitaries by his side. People Rune wanted to avoid, no doubt. She stared, taking in their faces and committing them to memory, lest she be ambushed with trite pleasantries and prying words later. Then she returned her attention to him and did her best to be coy. “Would I be remiss to suggest the two of us take a walk in the garden?”

He was visibly relieved. “You would not. In fact, I think that’s exactly what we should do.”

Their dance stilled and he offered his arm. She took it gladly and leaned against him, her heart strangely aflutter as he led the way.

A romantic dance. A moment alone. And, as much as she hated to acknowledge it, a shot or two of alcohol in his belly to loosen a tongue she’d come to find too restrained.

Perhaps now was the time. A chance to fix the awkward distance that had formed between them. To break down the barriers and suggest something more.

Her pulse had started drumming by the time they stepped from the Spiral Palace and into its lush gardens, a space lit by glowing lanterns and all but empty, what with the festivities inside.

They had not gone far on the path before Rune laid a hand atop hers, squeezing her fingers to his upper arm, and broke the silence that hung tense between them. “I apologize if this is forward, but there’s something I’ve been meaning to… not ask, but speak with you about.”

Firal’s nerves leaped, but she put on her best smile and fought the butterflies in her stomach with an iron fist. “Yes?”

Rune grew still on the path, and the shadow that darkened his eyes made her wish she hadn’t asked.

This is an ongoing companion piece to be read after completing the Snakesblood Saga. Because it takes place during the final chapter of the last book, it will be very full of spoilers. It’s also unedited first draft fluff… just for fun! Read at your own risk, and expect installments no closer together than once a month.

* * * * *

Firal had always prided herself on her independence, but there were some places in her life where having extra hands had been a welcome benefit.

Pinning her hair into place was one of those.

She struggled in front of the mirror for ages before Minna came to her rescue.

“You’ve such curls,” the older woman crooned as she twisted them into tidy shapes and trapped them with pearl-headed pins. “Always so beautiful.”

“And hard to manage,” Firal muttered, though she admitted they were less troublesome here. The island’s humidity had ensured her hair always resembled a black storm cloud tumbling about her head. Here, the air was more dry, and while some strands still escaped to stand free, most had resigned themselves to the orderly life that the Triad expected from her.

“Oh, hush.” Minna swatted her shoulder. “You might fuss about it, but you know someone loves your hair. He’d be just as happy with it rolling around your shoulders like it does, but I think you’ll dazzle him tonight.”

Firal hoped that was true. It was the point, after all—to charm her husband into… something. Now that she sat and stared herself in the eye, she could not tell her reflection what her end goal actually was.

To reclaim what they’d shared before? That was impossible; they weren’t the people they once were.

To be something more than occupants of the same house, perhaps. To find fellowship and camaraderie, to hear thoughts and secrets and smile again.

That felt the most out of reach. She stared at herself in the mirror and her shoulders sank.

Minna paused to examine her in the mirror, then continued. “What’s on your heart that has you looking so forlorn?”

“I feel terribly shallow for saying this, but I don’t think I look like much of a queen without all the jewels I once wore.” Firal had gained a few treasures since she’d sought refuge in the Triad, but it was nothing like the necklaces and diadems she’d had before. Nor were her dresses anywhere as fine. She brushed her hands over the dark silk gown she wore and wondered what color it was. Her first thought was navy, but perhaps it was a dark green, or even just black or deep gray. The evening light made everything look golden and it was not kind to the eye. But it was the cut she found most flattering, so it was what she would wear, regardless of the color.

Little of what she had now was to her taste. None of it had been meant for her and was simply what had been turned up in a moment of need, scavenged from what was on hand at the Spiral Palace or, less comfortably, hidden about Rune’s house.

She knew he had guests. People he was expected to entertain, who he likely did not even consider friends, and it was only proper to have clothing on hand in case of emergencies. One never knew when a formal dinner might lead to problems. Worse still if anyone went riding. Firal had never grown comfortable with horses, but she knew they existed on the property. As she knew of the winding game trails that sprawled through the trees.

But it was still dresses for some unknown woman, and while they had been adjusted by Minna’s deft hand to fit her, their existence had bothered her.

Clearly, she would have to schedule a day to visit a tailor.

Firal tore her eyes from the gown as Minna’s reflection returned alongside her own, and she blushed at the realization the woman had left, letting her sulk over her appearance while Lulu played on the floor. Shame on her; she’d been so caught up in her own vanity that she’d forgotten to be decent companionship.

She opened her mouth to apologize at the same time Minna opened a box. Its contents made her gasp, instead.

Inside, a silver diadem with glittering white jewels rested on a cushion of black velvet.

“Where did you get that?” Firal scarcely breathed the words, lest it disappear like some sort of apparition.

“It was delivered while you washed. Here, let me pin it in your hair.” Minna had it free of its box and atop Firal’s head in a moment, and Firal sat in silence as she fastened it in place.

The next question was where he had gotten it. Or perhaps why. His station as some sort of war hero and the king’s apparent right hand meant such pieces were easily within his reach, but Rune had never been given to excess. Even his manor was testament to that. It was large, but she had gathered its ownership had a story of its own, one she had not been privy to yet. And while its furnishings were fine, they were not unreasonable. Quality, but not lavish. Adequate for his station and not a drop more. The furnishings in the uppermost floor of the house—the part he reserved for himself—were far more modest. As were things in the kitchen, and the study into which he disappeared most nights.

All parts of the house he frequented most often, she noted.

So why, then, would he spend such money on her?

“There we are.” Minna fastened the last pin and stepped back. “See if that’s more to your liking, then.”

Firal turned back to the mirror one last time and didn’t know if she was pleased or disappointed to see that her appearance was far more palatable with the diadem in her hair.

But to not respond would have been rude, after all the effort her companion put into aiding her. “Perfect. Thank you, Minna.” It was not entirely truthful, but she’d grown skilled at stretching the truth in whatever direction she needed, and the praise pleased the old woman.

“Good.” Minna smiled at her, then turned to Lulu. “Look at your mother, isn’t she so pretty?”

The girl’s head lifted, her eyes sparkling bright. “Pretty,” she agreed.

Firal almost blushed.

Then Minna made a sweeping motion with both hands, chasing her away from the vanity. “You go on, then. Your sweetheart will be waiting for you. Little Lu and I will be just fine while the two of you have a night out.”

“Thank you.” Firal slid from her seat and bent to kiss her daughter’s forehead. “And thank you. Be good for Auntie Minna. I’ll be back soon.”

“No sooner than midnight, or it means you’ve not had any fun,” Minna corrected.

Firal wasn’t sure she’d make it that long, but she was willing to try. “I’ll be back,” she repeated, without the promise of time.

She stopped at the door and took in the scene one last time before she made for the parlor. All that remained now was to Call for a Gate, and the rest was just waiting.

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