Chapter 5 - Lions At The Border

"Monsters don’t always hide in the dark.

Sometimes, they dance in the light."

-Nest Of Serpests

by E.S.Mare

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I groaned, my name still echoing in my ears, and pressed my face against the pillow.I groaned, my name still echoing in my ears, and pressed my face against the pillow. It smelled faintly of lavender—a scent so light it barely lingered. Snakes had no taste for heavy fragrances. That’s why we always preferred subtle aromas in the palace, in our clothes, even in the temples. The Queen once had several servants hanged for using a scent too bold for her taste. Since then, the staff had learned caution.

When the voices calling my name finally quieted, a smile curled across my lips. But it vanished as a sharp groan escaped me and my body collapsed to the floor. My eyes opened on instinct, landing on the toes of a pair of boots. Even then, I still reached instinctively for the sword at my waist—only to remember onto the pile of clothes draped over the chair before falling asleep. Now I was helpless, clothed only in a white nightgown—modest enough, yet somehow it made me feel bare.

Perhaps not entirely helpless.

Rolling onto my side, I locked my legs around the boots and dragged their owner down with me. In the next breath, I had him pinned beneath me, my elbow pressed firmly to his throat. Vilas looked up at me through narrowed eyes. I returned the stare with a bold glance through my lashes.

“Isn’t this the perfect position for a kiss?”

He closed his eyes briefly and exhaled through his nose. His gaze flicked toward the corner of my mouth.

“What happened to your lip?”

I pulled back slightly and leaned in, whispering into his ear. “The Queen hit me. You should comfort me.”

He shoved me off as if I were a fly. But when he sat up, his expression had turned serious. His eyes studied me.

“You’re fine.”

He used to say that when he woke me from nightmares. You’re fine. But this wasn’t a dream. And I wasn’t fine—not in the way that mattered. Not physically, but somewhere deeper, I was still lost beneath the weight of that slap.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, my voice catching in mock sorrow. “No, my heart aches. Kiss it better.”

“Assra, must everything be a joke with you?” he snapped.

I dropped my hand and rolled my eyes. “Well, if you’re not here to kiss me, why did you come?”

He sighed, long and tired. With a flick of his eyes, he pointed toward the foot of the bed, but I didn’t follow the gesture.

“I brought your clothes.”

Of course. There was a wedding. He’d brought me my ceremonial uniform. Still, I didn’t understand why my mother had sent him—she never liked how close we were.

I rose and adjusted my nightgown, which had slipped to my calves. “She never sends you. It should’ve been the servants.”

“Aren’t we all?” he muttered, no real emotion in his voice.

“True.” I tilted my head. “Ours is a doomed love story. I just hope they don’t execute you and marry me off to someone else.”

He stood and brushed himself off. “If they do, I’ll kidnap you.”

“You’ve just confessed your love,” I grinned.

His eyes narrowed. He snatched the clothes from the bed and tossed them at me.

“Hurry, unless you’d like to anger the Queen.”

Still smiling, I gathered the clothes in my arms. “What exactly did she say?”

“Told me to get you dressed. Then wait outside with the soldiers.” He sat on the bed. “Did you think she’d explain anything to me? Aside from her usual threats, of course. I’m lucky to still have my head after losing track of you.”

“She’s always angry with you anyway.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“If you hate it so much, stop following me,” I huffed, barely hiding my grin. “Or admit it—you can’t stay away. You love me more than that pretty head of yours.”

“You’re a menace,” he muttered, this time with genuine frustration. “Get ready.”

Instead of changing, I sat beside him.

“I still don’t understand why she wants me at this wedding. If the King finds out, he’ll be furious.”

“Maybe she thinks you’ll try to kidnap Alissa. She knows how much you care about her. Maybe she just wants to keep you where she can see you.”

I pressed my lips together. That was possible. If Alissa had agreed to my plan, I would have taken her today. But she hadn’t. I could still see the fear in her eyes as she cried and fought me that day. Even so, something about her behavior today didn’t sit right. Her coldness. Her silence. If she’d simply admitted there was no choice, I would have understood. But her apathy felt... off.

“Assra,” Vilas said, his voice quieter now.

I turned toward him.

“You’re not still thinking about kidnapping her, are you?”

I didn’t answer, and his brow furrowed.

“Assra?”

“I told you I gave it up,” I snapped.

“Maybe after I left—”

“No, Vilas! We didn’t even talk about the wedding. My mother came in right after you left.”

He still looked at me with suspicion. “I want to believe you.”

I wasn’t lying. But he didn’t trust me—not completely. The idea that I’d run away and leave him behind... it haunted him.

He is my only friend. Always was.

His father had died defending the palace from a lion attack. They said he’d been a legendary commander. His mother died giving birth to him. Afterward, the Queen brought him into the palace, but treated him no differently than the other children. He trained like a soldier—hungry some days, sleeping in the snow on others. The Queen believed such hardship was necessary.

That was her truth—cruelty, not love, raised rulers.

It never shocked me. The Queen loved me—deeply. In her eyes, I was the only princess, the ruler she dreamed of. Yet still, I was with Vilas through every brutal moment of his training. I had gone hungry beside him. I had slept in the snow, too.

My mother had never wanted a fragile daughter. Perhaps if the King had allowed it, he would have subjected the others to the same torment. Who knows? Maybe his hatred for me had helped me, just once. The training had been harsh, unforgiving, but it had made me strong. I’d even knocked Vilas to the ground a few times. Since no one else could, I had every right to boast.

My mother never interfered with my training. But any other kind of closeness—touch, trust, affection—drove her mad. She had taken Vilas and turned him into a soldier, molded him like clay, but she never loved him. She didn’t even love her own children—why would Vilas be any different?

She punished him once. For sharing a bed with me. Thirty lashes.

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But after what I did, she never touched him again.

I set her chambers on fire.

The king had me imprisoned for that. I wasn’t given thirty lashes, but I was whipped—because I asked for it. I told the king that if he didn’t throw me in the dungeon, I’d burn the whole palace to the ground.

I suddenly smiled at Vilas. “I’m not just being honest with you. I’m in love with you.”

She frowned again and smacked me in the face with the nearest pillow. Her voice sharp as she shoved me upright and dragged me toward the dressing screen. She tossed in the clothes I’d left on the bed without a second glance. My protests, my groans—she ignored them all, despite the wounds on my back. At least when she put the helmet on me, she did it gently. Somehow, that annoyed me even more.

My mother hadn’t sent the servants. That was when I understood why. The truth hit me like a slap—sharp and sour. She didn’t want anyone else to see me. The servants feared her—but they could’ve told the king I was at the wedding. She sent Vilas to keep that from happening.

The king didn’t know I’d be at the ceremony.

I didn’t know what my mother was planning, but something in me told me I wasn’t going to like it. As we walked down the corridor, I turned to Vilas. He thought I’d run. Thought I’d abandon him the first chance I got. He didn’t trust me. So I would make him trust me.

I stepped closer. When he looked at me, he knew I was about to speak.

“In case something goes wrong…” I whispered.

He didn’t hesitate. “I’m with you. Always.”

I gave his arm a light squeeze, and we continued, following the swell of music down the stone passage. When we reached the stairs, the opulence of the ballroom hit us like a wave. We slipped into the back row where the soldiers stood at attention, trying not to draw eyes. The ceremony hadn’t begun yet, but the hall was already packed with nobles.

Highbloods from both the White Snakes and the Black Snakes were there. The distinction was clear enough—White Snakes had hair like ash or snow, Black Snakes were ink-dark. Their garments echoed the divide: bright, jeweled hues for the Whites; somber, shadow-drenched tones for the Blacks. Yet every single one was draped in elegance, every stitch whispering wealth.

I couldn’t stop staring at the noblewomen’s dresses. Envy flickered in me like a moth against glass.

Inside this palace, I was a shadow. Shadows don’t wear light.

Of course, there were corners where I was free to wander—silent halls, forgotten wings, places even the servants avoided. But I had never been to a ball. Or a feast. Or a wedding.

I was a warrior. But I was also a woman.

So no—it wasn’t strange that I wanted, even just a little, to be beautiful.

When I felt its brilliance pierce me like glass, I looked away. My gaze drifted to the walls, where the gilded shapes of twisting snakes shimmered in the candlelight. I had always loved how the carvings danced—like they might slither free and crawl across the marble at any moment.

The chandeliers overhead matched. Three in total, all adorned with golden serpents. But only the central one bore Kaliss—the legendary, three-headed snake. A divine beast, sacred to the Sovereign of the Soil. I didn’t care for divine things. But that snake—I admired it. Its jagged heads, its bared fangs—it was the embodiment of power.

Queen Kalissia bore its name.

Lesster, the Sovereign of the Soil, and his serpent were painted into the stained glass above. In some panels, one head of the snake hovered over him like a crown. In others, two flanked him in battle. And in some, the beast lay curled at his feet in reverent stillness. All of them were beautiful in a way that didn’t beg to be noticed.

My favorite was the one where Kaliss defeated Paleon—the lions’ sacred beast. A massive thing, covered in fur, but in every version of the tale, it was Kaliss who triumphed.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d stood in this hall. Probably when I’d entered it as a fugitive. And now, I couldn’t look away.

I was about to let my gaze fall on the king and queen’s throne when Vilas nudged me sharply. “Stop squirming. You’ll get us noticed.”

I bit back a groan. Thankfully, the trumpets sounded then, sparing me from further rebuke. I turned my eyes, not my head, toward the grand entrance.

The king and queen stepped into the hall, arm in arm, smiling at the nobles as they passed. The queen’s gaze swept the crowd—and somehow, she saw me. Despite the uniform, despite the soldiers around me her eyes found mine. A glint sparked in them. It made my skin crawl.

But then Miless appeared.

And for a moment, my unease faded.

My youngest sister, just four, waddled in behind them, pale-haired, round-cheeked, dressed in yellow—her favorite color. I hadn’t thought she’d bring her. But seeing her smile, even from afar, softened something in me.

The queen had denied that girl the love she denied all her children. I used to try to give it to her. But now she kept his distance, too. It wasn’t hard to guess why. My sisters. The ones who hated me. They’d twisted her heart away from me. Even now, she walked hand-in-hand with Tess.

Teressa was just a year older than me and Drassa—but given the chance to kill me without consequence? She wouldn’t blink. Whenever she looked at me, it was like she was seeing something vile. A crawling, hideous thing.

I won’t lie. I had planned to strangle her in her sleep more than once.

Everything that had befallen me was his doing—yet he dared to look at me as though I were the snake. And as if that weren’t enough, she wandered the palace halls like she was born to royalty. I knew she was the serpent that had driven Miless away from me. She had done the same to Alissa. At least Alissa had had the courage to hear me out—just once in her life.

Standing before Miless and Terassa was my brother, Drassa. He didn’t hate me. Or if he did, he kept it well hidden. Most days, he behaved as though I simply didn’t exist. That was somehow worse than hatred. He was my twin, and I could count our conversations on one hand—and still have fingers to spare.

Behind them came my other siblings: Aslemis, Erissa, and Sisla. They looked resplendent. Aslemis wore a cream-colored gown, edged in lace, with a plunging neckline. Erissa's dress was deep red, flowing and draped across one shoulder. Sisla wore a thick-strapped gown in a shade of yellow, darker than Miless’s own. Watching them like this unsettled me more than all the other women’s grandeur combined.

My uncle, Prince Masslon—the king’s brother—entered next, escorting his daughter, Princess Missla. Her mother had passed away only months earlier, yet whispers among the servants said he was already preparing to remarry and give her a stepmother. I liked neither of them. Sometimes, in my darker thoughts, I hoped that woman would creep in and strangle them both in their sleep.

Missla's eyes passed over the soldiers, pausing on Vilas more than the rest. I looked away. Then I looked back at Vilas— and saw who was watching him. My mouth parted in disbelief. “Missla?” I whispered. “That woman... it’s her?”

“What?” she murmured, sounding dazed.

“You’re kidding. Don’t tell me you’re enchanted by Missla.”

“Be quiet,” she snapped. “You’re speaking nonsense.”

The King and Queen were now greeting the nobles, accompanied by my siblings. “Hmm…” I muttered. “It seems I’ll have to murder my cousin. A shame. A dreadful, dreadful shame. Or not.”

“Asra!” he hissed under his breath.

As the King and Queen took their seats on the throne, my eyes found Missla again. While Alissa had the kind of beauty that was pure and soft, Missla was more woman than girl. She was a year older than me—the same age as Vilas. I had only met her twice, and both times she had crept into my room like a curious child, only to spit on me and run away giggling. That alone, I felt, was reason enough to wish her future stepmother would strangle her too.

I had just opened my mouth to tease Vilas again when the trumpets blared a second time. This time, it was the arrival of the Black Snakes. The King and Queen stepped forward with polished smiles. The king was aged—his dark gray hair turning white, almost indistinguishable from the White Snakes. The queen, however, was young—around Terassa’s age—and beautiful. She was his second wife. The first had died. Or so they said. Rumor had it the king had her drowned for the sake of this woman, though the official tale was illness.

Following them were the king’s children from his first marriage—two sons and a daughter. The boys were as tall as Vilas, though one looked younger by a few years. They shared the same eyes, the same posture, even the same way of walking. The girl, perhaps our age, wore a black dress so faded it looked like she had come to a funeral rather than a wedding. Her face bore a hardened calm. Likely not the kind of girl who smiled often.

The King and Queen of the Black Snakes took their places beside the White Snake royalty, their silver-inlaid thrones glinting in the light. Their children arranged themselves accordingly. When the princes’ eyes landed on my sisters, Drassa’s glare was like a blade. They quickly turned away, and I nearly laughed aloud.

Then Siles, King of the White Snakes and host of this cursed event, stood to speak. His voice rang with ceremonial drama as he spoke of our history, our wars, the lives lost. He declared his joy that the blood feud between the twin races would at last end. Yet not once did he speak of the daughter he had thrown into the fire. I stopped listening when he started waxing poetic about peace and unity, about bloodlines joining and multiplying. The very idea of Alissa—my sister—being forced to marry a man she did not want, and worse, bearing his children, made my stomach twist.

No matter how I tried, the sorrow clung to me. My sister—the girl who would soon walk into this hall beside the crown prince of the Black Snakes—was the chosen sacrifice for peace. She was only seventeen. Truthfully, it should have been Terassa, our eldest. She had always been the king’s favored candidate for marriage. But perhaps the Black Snakes had no interest in a daughter born outside of wedlock. Even the White Snakes, who doted on a fragile princess they'd never laid eyes on, did not even they pretended to love Terassa. So why would the Black Snakes take her for their queen, when even her own kingdom scorned her?

Alissa should never have been paired with the word marriage. Perhaps Terassa’s curse had reached her too. I doubted Alissa even understood how a child came to be. Unless, of course, the queen had told her—everything. Down to the grim and inescapable truths of the wedding night…

My stomach turned again.

The king’s speech ended. The trumpets blared once more. I clenched my teeth. I didn’t look toward the doors—I wasn’t ready to see her face. I was angry at myself for not having tried to steal her away. Even if she had rejected me, I should have fought harder, argued longer. Perhaps I could have convinced her to run. But after the ceremony, the Black Snakes would return to their kingdom—and there would be another wedding there. I still had time. I could still try to rescue her.

But then I shook myself. I couldn’t. The Black Snakes had arrived with an army. They would leave with an even larger one. I was alone. Even if Vilas stood beside me, we did not have the strength to challenge an army.

The trumpets faded into silence. Still, no one entered. A strange hush fell across the hall. Two White Snake guards stepped forward as King Siles frowned. His brow darkened further.

“Something is wrong,” Vilas whispered.

I fixed my eyes on the soldier. He walked up to the king and whispered something in his ear, prompting Queen Kalissia to rise abruptly. The King and Queen of the Black Snakes followed suit. Something was clearly wrong. The crown prince was supposed to enter with Alissa on his arm, and only then would the wedding begin. But neither he nor Alissa was anywhere in sight.

As hushed murmurs rippled through the noble crowd, I noticed the color draining from the king’s face—his pale skin had turned ashen, corpse-like. When he finally lifted his head, the soldier stepped back a few paces, then turned and left the hall in haste. The king tried to manage a smile.

“Lions have been spotted at our borders,” he announced.

A wave of alarm spread across the hall—gasps, whispers, even a few stifled cries. But as the king spoke again, all fell silent.

“There is no need for concern. Our soldiers stand ready, always guarding the realm.”

Lions?