Chapter 19 - Swamp Bloom

"Some flowers were never meant to bloom beyond the swamp."

-Nest Of Serpests

by E.S.Mare

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The rhythmic thunder of hooves reverberated through the ground, and now and then, a lion's roar echoed in the distance. Lian was just behind us—his presence searing the air, unmistakable.

Vilas had gone quiet after the first curse, only to mutter another when they blindfolded and bound us. Then silence once more. Now he lay in the looters’ carriage, he lay half-asleep, his head resting on my lap. He'd told me to rest during one of his rare breaks between curses. But he was in far worse shape than I was, so I let him rest first.

I couldn’t see, but I had turned my face toward what I assumed was the window. Each roar reverberated in my chest—not from fear alone, but from something far more dangerous. A pull I could not resist. If I had my sight, I would have followed wherever that lion chose to lead. All I had now was the fading ghost of his warmth, lingering inside me.

I had seen a few animals in my life—mostly snakes, of course. But a lion… never. I had always felt a deep revulsion toward the Lion people. Yet with this one, the animal itself, I felt no disgust. Quite the opposite—I was captivated. Not that I’d ever dare voice such a thought aloud. For a Serpent, that would be disgraceful.

Then I saw another approach the one Lian rode and rub its head affectionately against it. Lian bent down to stroke its mane. Two lions. He must have more. That should have frightened me—but instead, I felt the pull of it, the strange desire to step forward and watch them longer.

Thankfully, Raiden was at the reins, steering the horses. Inside the carriage, Arlo and Adara sat across from us, silent.

When I leaned back and feigned sleep, they finally began to speak.

“Don’t,” said Adara.

Whatever Arlo was doing, she repeated herself— “Don’t.”

When I focused my attention on them, their body heat came into view, shapes of glowing color pressing close. Arlo tugged her toward him.

“I said ‘don’t’.”

“They’re asleep,” Arlo said.

My brows furrowed beneath the cloth covering my eyes, but I didn’t move.

“Hey!” Arlo called out, his voice turning toward Adara. “See? They’re asleep.”

“Hey!” Adara replied, but not to us.

Was Arlo touching her now?

Adara giggled.

“Don’t! Arlo—”

Another giggle.

And then came the sound—kisses, perhaps. If not kisses, then something no less intimate. Their silhouettes didn’t quite overlap, but close enough to make it clear.

Lovers. How utterly absurd.

They had kept it well concealed until now.

“No,” Adara gasped between laughter. “Don’t—don’t take it off—Arlo!”

Fabric rustled.

Adara’s arms lifted reflexively.

My eyes flew open beneath the blindfold, and I sat upright.

“Enough! I’m not asleep, alright? I don’t care if I can’t see it—just stop making me listen to it!”

By the Sovereign of Soil—I could see. Not with my eyes, but with the heat that pulsed beneath their skin. Faintly. Barely. But enough.

“What?” Adara asked, startled. More fabric sounds, and then she fumbled her blouse back on.

My stomach turned.

“We… we weren’t doing anything,” she stammered.

“If you say we were doing anything,” Arlo growled, “you'll regret—”

But Vilas cut him off.

“You were doing it—and it was revolting.”

“You weren’t asleep either?” Adara barked.

“I wasn’t asleep either!” came Raiden’s shout from outside. “And the moment I step off this curse cart, I’ll vomit for having defended a Snake, but that was foul.”

“By the Lord of the Forest,” Adara groaned. “This is mortifying.”

“As it should be,” Vilas muttered and shifted his weight against my lap.

“Thanks for the show, Asra,” he hissed, spitting the words like venom.

“Don’t tell Lian,” Adara blurted.

Tempting.

Maybe I would have thought about it after asking why.

“He doesn’t know?”

“Of course he does,” Arlo muttered. “We just aren’t allowed near each other when he’s around.”

“Why?” Oh. Right. Because seeing them together is… revolting. “Said nothing. Didn’t ask.” It was time for my first move. Sincerity.

“I’m just… curious about something.”

“Not the indecent sort, I hope— scrawny little Snake," Arlo said.

A grimace flickered across my face. “You’re an Eagle. She’s a Lioness. I know it’s not forbidden for your kinds to lie together, but still isn’t there something off about it? I mean... doesn’t it strike you as strange?”

But of course, it didn’t. I knew that long before hearing them practically devouring each other. It was all theatre—a ploy to cloak my intent in trivial chatter.

My mother had mentioned such things when she taught me about the races, slipping in their relations with a pointed tone. They didn’t shy away from coupling with those outside their kind. Not like us. But that wasn’t what surprised me.

I’d expected a grimace of disgust with every word as my mother described them, but she had not. She had recited it all plainly. If I hadn’t known her, I might’ve thought she was indifferent—perhaps even tolerant. But no. She loathed them all. That loathing made her calm. Perhaps that was why she spoke so flatly, as if she couldn’t care less who they laid with. The only unions that mattered to us were political.

“Why would it be strange?” Arlo asked.

I hadn’t expected such detachment.

Did it not matter to them that they could never have children? Perhaps they didn’t intend to. Perhaps they could wed, but children? That was impossible. Their blood could never mingle.

“Are you all finding this strange?” Adara asked.

“Yes,” I answered without pause. “Even if we pretended otherwise, a Serpent cannot ever unite with another race.”

“Why?” she asked, genuinely curious.

It wasn’t her question that surprised me—it was her ignorance. Still, I welcomed it.

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It was working. They were opening up.

As though we weren’t enemies. As though they hadn’t poisoned us, and we hadn’t been tortured and bound.

But we were Serpents. And we did not forgive easily.

“We are venomous,” I said.

A long silence followed.

Then Arlo spoke. “Spiders and Scorpions are poisonous too. Yet they can mate—rarely. Not because of the poison, but because their natures don’t align. Their tastes differ. They are ill-matched—driven by natures too estranged to bind.”

This I did not know.

I knew only what my mother had told me—superficial truths. She had never explained desire. Preferences. Compatibility. Thank the Sovereign of Soil. I doubted I could’ve stomached it.

“There is an antidote to your poison,” Adara added, her voice mirroring the revulsion in Arlo’s. “All venomous species have one. Sometimes Snake venom can even restart a stopped heart—followed, of course, by an antidote to temper its effects.”

I had never heard of such a thing. Our poisons didn’t usually affect one another, except in rare cases. But apparently, our venom could do more than harm—it could revive.

The absurdity of it almost made me laugh.

To think—they walked around dependent on the very creatures they despised. That must drive them mad.

“Otherwise,” Arlo continued, “your heart would have stopped again. I didn’t die when you bit me because of the antidote.”

He was fiddling with something at his neck—probably the same small flask I had seen around Lian’s.

So, they carried the cure with them.

“If you bite me again,” he added, “it won’t go well for you.”

A laugh threatened to break loose, but I swallowed it. "Our race blessed by the Sovereign of Soil with purity," I said, steering the conversation back to what mattered. "Even though we have an antidote for our venom... in certain cases—"

"Mating," Arlo supplied.

"Yes," I exhaled. "Our venom bears a peculiar power. To us, it is ecstasy—to others, a swift and unyielding end. You wouldn’t survive long enough to reach the antidote."

A heavy silence fell. Then Arlo burst out, "By the Sovereign of the Sky! So even a kiss could become a death sentence?"

This time, I really laughed. "I think there is far more to it than that."

"How?" Adara asked.

"The venom stirs only when desire is true—regardless of race," Vilas cut in. “And that's the hardest part for Serpents. To actually enjoy someone not of our kind—" He made a noise of disgust. "Even if I could, I wouldn’t sleep with anyone who isn’t a Serpent. We generally despise every other race."

Arlo leaned back, he chuckled, low and sharp. “Settle down, little man. The revulsion goes both ways.” He let the words hang, then added with a tilt of his head, voice dipped in mockery, “Even if they could—who, in all the realms, would willingly share a bed with a Snake?" He chuckled again. “Well, maybe not everyone. You—stringy girl—you look like the type who’d settle for anything. No taste at all.”

I cracked up. “Did you hear that?” I said to Vilas. “No one but me would ever take you to bed. One day, even you’ll see it.”

"Shut up," he muttered.

When I ran my fingers through Vilas’s hair, he bit my hand, but not hard enough to draw blood. I couldn’t feel Vilas’s warmth. Serpents cannot sense one another at all. Adara and Arlo’s bodies shimmered with heat in front of me, but Vilas’s warmth remained invisible. Serpents couldn’t perceive one another’s heat. And our bodies were colder than most. We were cold-blooded creatures.

"You believe being made pure was some kind of reward?" Adara said, pulling us back to the main thread. "Do you truly believe that?"

"Why wouldn’t we?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"Because..." She paused. "It sounds more like a curse. If someone told me that story, I wouldn’t call it a blessing."

"I don’t understand," I said, now openly perplexed.

“What she means is—” Arlo spoke slowly, his radiant body leaning in. “You don’t choose who you’re drawn to—or who stirs something inside you. We all come from different races, and we were taught certain things about one another. Taught so deeply that it shaped our very feelings. But the truth is, emotions have no race, no gender, no form. Yet we were forced to believe they did. Sadness, joy, love, passion—we even molded them to fit certain races. Because that’s what we were taught to do.”

“We weren’t forced to mold them,” I argued. "It’s part of nature. Snakes devour scorpions. Eagles prey on snakes—"

“And if that’s your creed, then lions feast on eagles,” Adara cut in. "And yet, we stand here today."

"That’s different," I snapped. "One holds the sky’s power, the other the earth’s. They were the last two meant to clash."

"Then let’s speak of snakes and crocodiles," Arlo said. "Water and soil. They’re not natural enemies. They wouldn’t even be the last races to clash. Why the hatred, then? And why the hostility toward Lions, when snakes aren’t even their prey?"

"The Lions see us as enemies too," I blurted.

Arlo just laughed. “And you’ve just answered your own question. It’s not nature. We’re not animals. Even if we’re armed with their strengths, we’re still human at heart. Humans raised to see enemies everywhere. We were raised on fear and pride. But only your race were taught to see everyone as an enemy.”

What he said made sense. And still, I hated the Lions with every ounce of my being.

"Look at your face," Adara laughed. "Disgust is etched into your features. You can’t even imagine there’s another way to see things."

I couldn’t see them through the cloth over my eyes, couldn’t guess their expressions. But mine—I knew it like a reflection. Disgust was an emotion that seemed carved into my bones.

"None of this explains why you think it’s a curse," I said. "Aside from the nonsense about not being able to choose who we love or desire. Why can’t we? If we’re raised to loathe certain things, then that shapes our choices, doesn’t it? I mean... We don't want to make a different choice anyway. We can’t."

"Do you like swamps?" Arlo asked, suddenly.

My brow furrowed. "Who likes swamps?"

“Imagine a flower born in a swamp,” Arlo said, his voice calm and steady. “All her life, she believes that every touch will stain her. They tell her, ‘This swamp keeps you safe,’ and she believes it. Only flies ever come close, and she accepts that too. She never questions it. She just stays there, untouched, convinced she’s pure.

“One day, she looks beyond the mire and sees a man. His body glows. Wherever he walks, flowers bloom brighter in his light. The flower, rooted deep in the mud, yearns for that light. But he never steps into the swamp. His light never touches her. Still, she watches him, day after day, aching for that glow, craving what she’s never known. Days pass. Seasons pass. And she withers. Only then does she realize—the swamp was never a blessing. It was always a curse.”

I listened quietly. And when he fell silent, I stayed still for a moment. Then I laughed.

"That’s the most foolish tale I’ve ever heard. Let’s say there was no swamp. The man approached. He touched the flower. Maybe he even loved it. And then what? Isn't he going to leave after all?"

"Maybe he’d take the flower with him," Adara offered.

"Where would he take it? A flower of the swamp cannot survive elsewhere. Pluck it, and it dies. The man would kill it." I leaned forward, my lips pursed though I couldn’t meet their eyes. "Then isn’t the swamp a blessing? As long as he stays away, at least the flower survives."

"If you call living with flies ‘living’, then sure," Arlo muttered.

"Enough of your riddles. It was nothing but drivel," Vilas grumbled.

"You... snake," Arlo hissed. "You’re one of those flies."

Vilas growled under his breath, no doubt cursing. I leaned toward him and whispered, "Don’t worry. I’d have loved you even if you were a fly."

The carriage shuddered to a halt with a lion’s roar.

Sounds flared outside.

I flinched at a sudden touch on my arm.

"It is I," Adara whispered. "Step carefully. We will guide you."

No matter where they were taking us, they never once loosened the binds on our hands or removed the cloth from our eyes. I sensed Vilas rising to his feet; Arlo must have been guiding him. When Adara helped me out of the carriage, the scent of countless trees filled the air, rich and wild. Even the air bore a taste unlike anything I had known. Each step stirred the scent of earth beneath our feet. The breeze carried no chill—it kissed the skin with warmth I had never known. I had never felt air like this in my homeland, and its strangeness unsettled me.

There were others around us—silent, yet unmistakably there. I could feel the heat of their bodies; about a dozen, perhaps. But they didn’t speak. They simply watched. Lian’s heat wasn’t among them. Nor the lion’s.

And Lian? He would never stay silent for this long. He was not among them.

I am Esilian. Esilian Aslion, crown prince of the Lion Kingdom.

That was it. That was the source of his unbearable arrogance. A prince—no, not just a prince, the heir. But why would a prince dirty his hands with looters? Wasn’t such filth beneath his grandeur?

I shook the thought off and focused on my own wretched luck. What kind of twisted fate was it, to escape one crown prince only to fall into the hands of another?

One wanted to marry me and claim my kingdom. And he had already succeeded in the first. The other wanted to kill me—or use me. Maybe he believed he’d use. For now, he was our only hope. If he wasn’t going to kill us, he wouldn’t allow anyone else to do it either. If he had intended otherwise, Raiden would’ve ended us long ago.

It wasn’t a trap—it was a blindfold. They just didn’t want us to know where we were being led.

We walked in silence for what felt like hours, our steps echoing through the corridors. I knew we passed through a tunnel— The damp, stale scent betrayed it. We climbed countless stairs, crossed more tunnels, more corridors. Perhaps the path had been twisted on purpose—to unmoor our senses. My sense of direction wasn’t sharp—I’d never had the luxury to hone it. My escapes had only taken me between the White Serpent and Black Serpent Kingdoms. I wished Vilas had a better sense of direction, but then I remembered it was he who had led us into Lion territory instead of Scorpion lands. That thought alone was enough to disappoint me again.

As we entered what seemed like the final corridor, the number of guards dwindled. Only four men remained now, besides Adara and Arlo. At last, Adara drew me to a stop. When she opened my eyes, sunlight sliced into my eyes, making me wince. I blinked through the light until the world took shape again. Vilas stood by a door just next to from me, scanning the corridor.

"These are your rooms," Adara said.

Where were we?

The opposite side of the corridor was lined with glass. Through it, I could see a tower, and beyond it, another corridor—mirroring this one. Behind the glass, doors stretched across both sides. I took a few steps forward. Adara didn’t stop me. I looked down. We were high—far above the forest canopy. Some branches reached for the glass like fingers, gentle but uninvited. The corridor opposite met a central tower and extended onward to another tower at the far end. Where it led, I could not tell.

“Where are we?” Vilas asked.

“In Lionel. The heart of the Lion Kingdom,” Arlo answered.

The heart?

The Lion Palace?