“If you were raised on tales of Orchid spirits, yes.” She glanced to the spot the serpent had disappeared. “The stories say the river-witches send their scouts ahead of the travelers they favor. The snakes send messages and listen for lies.”
“Should I be nervous?”
“Oh, definitely.”
He gave her a look that hovered between amusement and concern, an expression she liked on him.
Animals presented themselves as if by appointment. A cloud of tiny bats slept like a cluster of fruit, wrapped in their own wings beneath a palm frond, while high above a pair of long-tailed parrots argued with righteous outrage.
“I didn’t realize the beasts of Orchid would be so loud,” Jakobav said.
“Careful,” she replied. “They prefer to be called citizens.”
He made a sound that might have been a laugh.
The heat deepened, and the light took on a yellow-green cast as it passed through the leaves. The humidity felt dense, even in the shade, and Ella loosened her cloak and let the air reach her skin.
The path curved, and Ella slowed. That tug she’d felt since crossing back into Orchid sharpened now, low and insistent, pulling at her ribs like a thread wound too tight. The horse balked once, then settled again, as though it felt it too.
Jakobav noticed. “Why are we stopping?”
She squinted through the dense green. A break in the trees revealed faint smoke curling above the canopy. “Because something is telling me to.”
His jaw flexed. “That is not reassuring.”
Ella smiled faintly. “Relax. Worst case, you get to keep playing protector.”
He gave her a long look but nudged the horse forward anyway.
When the smoke thickened and the trees began to open, they dismounted and tied the reins to a low branch, leaving the animal to graze while they went on foot.
“Ella,” he said quietly, scanning the trees. “I don’t think there’s anything out here. You sure that instinct of yours isn’t saying turn around and head straight to the castle?” He laughed, as if his joke was funny. It wasn’t.
She huffed out a breath and ignored him, pushing farther down the narrow trail.
Finally, they came across a cottage where the jungle thinned and the soil changed from brown to black. The trunk of a massive tree split and wove around a one-room house, its roots forming ribs and its branches holding up a roof thick with living thatch and bright flowers. Chimes sang in the breeze, feathers and teeth hung from a line like a string of weathered prayers, and the front steps were laid in mosaic, little chips of glazed tile in blues and greens and a streak of gold. The air smelled faintly of crushed herbs and rain-soaked earth.
The door stood open.
A woman leaned in the doorway as though she’d been waiting since the first seed had sprouted here. Her skirt was forest green with ruffles. She had white stockings that climbed to her knees in a froth of lace, and a matching corset cupped unapologetic cleavage that probably made men forget their own names. Her midriff was a ribbon of warm skin, and strawberry curls fell in glossy ringlets past her hips. When she smiled, it was like a handful of sugar dropped into tea.
Ella took one look at her and snorted. “Too bad Thane isn’t here. He could finally put that world-renowned flirting of his to good use.”
Jakobav’s mouth twitched, though his jaw set before he replied. “Actually, I think he likes blondes.”
Ella blinked at him, surprised.
The woman clapped her hands together, her gaze fixing on Ella with a smile that carried recognition.
“There you are,” she said warmly. “I was beginning to think you’d ignore the whisper and make me send more snakes.”
Ella’s mouth went dry. “Have we met?”
“Not properly,” the woman said. “You were in my head and I was in yours, and then I woke up on the roof of a bakery with a pigeon sitting on my stomach. It was very affectionate, but I do not recommend it.” She stepped aside and made a sweeping courtly gesture that somehow involved only wrists and hair. “I’m Octavia. Come in, dearies.”
Jakobav and Ella traded a look. He nodded once toward the doorway as if to say, “after you.”
Ella hesitated just long enough to shoot Jakobav a dark glare. Then she leaned in, close enough that her breath stirred the dark hair at his ear.
