Peeling Corn For The Serpent Queen

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The Grand Prophet once foretold that a monstrous serpent would rise and bring ruin to our world.

In response, the mortal King decreed a total purge. Every serpent shifter was to be hunted down and slaughtered, leaving none alive.

With our clan facing complete annihilation, Grandfather, our Chief, decided to send our deadliest warriors to assassinate the tyrant.

I rolled up my sleeves, practically vibrating with excitement as I volunteered for the job. But Grandfather simply patted my shoulder and sighed. "It is not your turn to play the hero, Maisie. Stay in the safety of our mountains and hold down the fort."

I had no choice but to swallow my grand dreams of battlefield glory.

But tragedy struck, wave after wave. Garrick, our fiercest Black Mamba shifter; Talia, our deadliest Banded Krait; and even Toby, our master of stealth and camouflageall of them met their ends at the hands of the tyrant King.

Watching Grandfather lose his scales from sheer grief and stress, I couldn't take it anymore. I scribbled a hasty farewell note and slipped down the mountain in the dead of night.

The moment I crossed the ridge, Grandfather's voice echoed through the canyon in a raw, hysterical screech:

"You absolute idiot! You're a corn snake! You don't even have your adult fangs yet! What do you think you're going to do, tickle him to death?!"

Years later, I kicked that broody, cold-hearted tyrant clean off the royal mattress.

Who says corn snakes are useless little pests?

"Go on," Id tell him, pointing a finger. "Peel my corn."

Grandfather's voice was shredded by the howling mountain wind.

I paused, blinking back at the dark peaks. "Was someone calling me?"

I spun around twice, heard nothing but the whistling pines, and happily resumed my trek down the slopes. I pumped my fist in the air, a surge of righteous loyalty warming my chest. "Don't worry, Grandfather! I won't fail our people. The tyrant's head is as good as mine!"

But when I finally marched into the bustling capital, my heroic confidence evaporated. I stood frozen in the middle of the crowded cobblestone streets, completely lost.

Damn it. I had spent so much time asking the elders for assassination techniques that Id forgotten to ask the most basic question: How do you actually get inside the palace? Was I supposed to shift back into my snake form and slither past the armed guards on the drawbridge?

As I crouched in a dusty alleyway, agonizing over my options, a pale, clean-shaven man in a stiff linen coat emerged from around the corner. He was wringing his hands, his voice pitched in a desperate, high-pitched whine. "Ruined! We're absolutely ruined! One of the new kitchen maids caught the fever and died on the road. If our numbers aren't complete, the Chief Steward will have my hide!"

My eyes snapped wide. A palace recruiter. Just like the stories the elders told.

I lunged out of the alley and blocked his path. "Excuse me, sir! Are you looking for staff? What about me? I can do anythingscrub floors, wash dishes, whatever you need! Just get me inside the palace. I need to see the King."

The steward eyed me up and down. A sleazy, split-second grin broke across his pale face, and he patted his chest importantly. "Well, aren't you an eager little thing? I happen to be a very influential man in His Majesty's household. Keep me happy, and I won't just get you a meeting with the KingI'll get you a ticket straight to his bedchamber!"

I was practically vibrating with excitement. I nodded eagerly, trailing behind him like a loyal pup, dreaming of my impending glory.

Ten minutes later, I was standing in the scullery of the royal latrines.

"This is your new home," the steward said, his smile entirely gone. He gestured coldly toward rows of wooden chamber pots lined up in the corner, radiating a stench so foul it made my eyes water. "From today on, you're on chamber-pot duty. Thirty pots a day. No food until they're spotless."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. "But... you said you'd take me to the King?"

He didn't even bother to look back as he swept out of the room.

The other kitchen maids in the room burst into cruel, mocking laughter. "Look, girls, another gullible idiot fallen for old Higgins's lies! A pot-scrubber wanting to see the King? Keep dreaming, honey!"

I squeezed the rough scrubbing rag in my hand, my knuckles turning white. For the Clan. For the mission. I can endure this.

I scrubbed. I scrubbed from the first light of dawn until the stars claimed the sky. By the time the last wooden pot gleamed in the dim candlelight, I sniffed my fingers and nearly gagged on the spot.

Curse that rotten tyrant. Tonight, he pays for this indignity with his life.

I stretched my aching neck, took a deep breath, and let the magic take over. My bones softened, my skin tightened, and my clothes fell away as I shifted into my true forma small, vibrant corn snake, patterned in brilliant shades of red and orange.

During my endless shifts, I had kept my ears open, piecing together a map of the estate from the maids' idle gossip. I slithered along the cold stone baseboards, a silent, colorful shadow slipping undetected into the King's private wing.

I squeezed through a crack in the heavy oak window and slipped into the room. Sitting by the hearth, bathed in the warm glow of a desk lamp, was a man reviewing royal ledgers.

He was stunning. Dark, sharp eyebrows, a nose carved like marble, and a jawline that could cut glass. I froze on the carpet, subconsciously swallowing a sudden pool of saliva.

Get a grip, Maisie. I mentally pinched myself. This gorgeous creature is a cold-blooded monster who slaughters your people for sport. Kill him.

I coiled my small body, aiming directly for the exposed, pale skin of his throat. With a silent prayer to our ancestors, I launched myself through the air.

A split second later, two cool, incredibly strong fingers clamped around my neck, pinning my head in place.

Wait. This wasn't supposed to happen. I went completely rigid.

Garrick, who was a master of the coil, had spent hours training me back home. He would pat my head and say, "Listen to me, little Maisie. Once our kind wraps around a beast's throat, there is no escaping. You squeeze until their ribs crack and their lungs collapse. They die before they even realize what's happening."

But theory and reality were violently clashing. I thrashed wildly, my tail whipping against his forearm in a desperate attempt to gain leverage. The two fingers holding me didn't even twitch.

Gideon raised his other hand, idly flicking the tip of my tail with his index finger. His voice was a low, amused drawl. "Where did you crawl out from, you foolish little thing?"

Every single scale on my body flared in sheer indignation.

Suddenly, the King's brow furrowed. He brought me closer to his face, sniffing slightly, and his expression dissolved into pure disgust. "Why do you smell so foul? Did you fall into a cesspool?"

Without another word, he wound my body into a tight, neat spirallike a ball of yarnand dropped me unceremoniously into a silver basin filled with fresh water. "Clean yourself up before you try to kill me again."

I thrashed in the water, cursing his entire royal bloodline to the heavens. But my small size made the simple task of untangling myself an absolute nightmare. I spent the entire night twisting, turning, and wrestling with my own knotted tail.

By the time the horizon began to bleed gold, I finally managed to straighten my spine. Gasping for air, I propped my chin on the edge of the silver basin, only to find myself staring directly at the sleeping face of the King.

Leaving an assassin loose in his chambers while he sleeps? He is as arrogant as he is foolish.

I glided silently over the rim, climbing up the velvet bedpost and creeping onto the silk pillows beside his head.

Talia's voice echoed in my mind: "Our fangs carry the ultimate kiss of death, Maisie. One prick, and their heart stops before they can even scream."

I lunged forward, opening my mouth as wide as it would go, and bit down on his bottom lip with all the force my tiny body could muster.

The King's eyes snapped open. He didn't scream. He didn't even flinch. He simply reached up, plucked me off his face, and used his thumb to pry my jaw open.

"You don't even have your adult fangs yet, little pest," he murmured, a slow, mocking smirk spreading across his lips.

I glared at him, hissed, and tried to look as menacing as possible.

Gideon tilted his head, bringing his face so close I could see my own bright, chubby reflection in his dark eyes. "Keep looking at me like that, and I'll have the kitchens turn you into snake soup."

I froze. My eyes snapped shut, my tail tucked tightly against my belly, and I went limp, playing dead with absolute, shameless commitment.

A soft, low chuckle vibrated above me. I peeked through a tiny slit in my eyelids, catching the thoughtful glint in Gideons eyes. He suddenly turned toward the door and called out, "Guards!"

My stomach plummeted.

A young servant rushed into the room, bowing deeply. "Your Majesty?"

Gideon lifted me by the tail, dangling me like a piece of colorful rope. "Take this thing out and dispose of it."

Dispose of me? Soup? Skinning? Cold dread washed over me. I immediately flipped onto my back, let my tongue loll out of my mouth, and tried to look like a shriveled piece of jerky.

"Oh dear, is it already dead?" the young servant gasped, recoiling slightly.

Gideon glanced at my pathetic performance. The corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. "If it's dead, throw it in a jar of spirits. It'll make a fine medicinal wine."

The servant gingerly scooped me up and turned to leave. The moment we crossed the threshold into the cool hallway, I launched myself out of his hands, landing on the stone floor with a soft splat before vanishing into the shadows of the corridor.

"Ah! It's escaped!" the servant shrieked behind me.

I fled through the maze of hallways, not slowing down until I scrambled back into the safety of my smelly latrine scullery. Only then did my racing heart begin to settle.

Gideon was terrifyingly sharp. No wonder our first three assassins had failed so miserably.

I curled up in the corner of the room, resting my chin on my knees, deeply analyzing my tactical errors. Direct force and venom were clearly out of the question for a harmless corn snake shifter. I needed to adapt. I needed to study Toby's method of stealth and infiltration.

But as I looked down at my reflection in a bucket of water, my heart sank. Bright orange and red scales, decorated with bold, festive yellow saddles. I looked like a walking holiday lantern. If I tried to hide in the grass, Id be visible from a mile away.

My snake form was useless for stealth. I bit my lip and made a decision: I would have to use my human form.

For the next week, I pushed my body to its absolute limits. By day, I scrubbed my thirty chamber pots; by night, I slipped out to shadow the King, studying his schedule. Eventually, I noticed a pattern. When he worked in his private study late at night, he dismissed all his guards and advisors.

A perfect, moonless night. The ultimate time for a strike.

I slipped into a makeshift suit of black clothes Id sewn from discarded rags. Crawling beneath the shadows, I reached the exterior wall of his study just as the sentries rounded the far corner. It was now or never.

Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the stone windowsill and hoisted myself up to climb through. I shoved the glass panes open with a sharp clatter.

But I had vastly overestimated my physical agility.

I ended up hopelessly wedged in the window frame, my legs dangling outside while my upper body spilled into the bright, warm study.

The room was ablaze with candlelight. Gideon sat behind his grand desk, surrounded by several high-ranking ministers in formal robes. They were clearly in the middle of an incredibly important council meeting.

Every single eye in the room snapped to me. The silence that followed was suffocating.

"Uh, hi," I offered, letting out a nervous, high-pitched chuckle. "Busy night, huh? Keep up the good work!" I frantically tried to wiggle backward out of the frame.

I had just managed to get one leg back over when Gideons smooth, dry voice cut through the air: "Arrest her."

The guards lunged.

Panic seized me. I thrashed wildly, but the cheap fabric of my makeshift black suit caught on a heavy iron latch, pinning me in place. Seeing the guards closing in, I tore myself free with a desperate wrench of my body.

I fell backward, landing hard on the muddy grass outside. Before the guards could burst through the palace doors, I willed my body to shift back into my colorful snake form.

But just as I made a mad dash for the shrubbery, a long, elegant hand descended from above, pinning me expertly by the neck.

"You again?"

I looked up into Gideons handsome, mocking face. He held me up to his eyes, examining my bright scales as if I were a particularly amusing clockwork toy.

The guards came rushing around the corner, only to find a pile of torn black rags on the ground. "Forgive us, Your Majesty. The assassin has vanished."

Gideon waved them off with an indifferent shrug. "Let it go. Any assassin who gets stuck in a window frame is hardly a threat to the crown. Besides," he added, glancing down at my plump midsection, "judging by her proportions, I suspect she was merely trying to raid the royal pantry."

I snapped, sinking my tiny, toothless mouth onto his index finger. Threaten my life all you want, but do not insult my figure!

Unfortunately, no matter how hard I clamped down, I couldn't even break his skin.

Gideon ran his thumb down my spine, tracing the vibrant orange patterns of my scales. "Ive been needing a new belt," he mused, a dangerous spark in his eyes. "Since you're so fond of sneaking into my quarters, I think I'll keep you."

Before I could react, he wrapped my long, supple body around his waist and tied me in a loose, secure knot.

The sheer humiliation of it. A proud warrior of the serpent clan, reduced to a tyrant's belt accessory.

I wanted more than anything to bite him, but every time I squirmed, the knot tightened, squeezing the breath right out of me. After a few futile struggles, I gave up, letting my tail dangle limply against his thigh, swaying with the rhythm of his steps as he walked back inside.

My life went completely off the rails after that night. Whether Gideon found me genuinely amusing or simply wanted to torture me, he refused to go anywhere without his new "accessory."

During morning court, I was wrapped around his wrist, masquerading as an exotic orange bracelet. During meals, I was coiled neatly beside his plate, presented with a silver saucer of small, harmless crickets (which I flatly refused to touch). At night, he left me on the silk pillow right beside his head, completely unbothered by the fact that I was technically his sworn enemy.

One morning, as I was dozing off around his wrist, a cold, grating voice echoed through the Great Hall, snapping me awake.

"Your Majesty, the serpent plague remains a threat to our realm. I have read the stars, and the dark magic of the serpent clan still lingers. If we do not tear them out by the roots, they will bring ruin to your throne."

My eyes snapped open.

Standing in the center of the hall was an old man in flowing black robes, holding a silver staff. It was Grand Prophet Lucius, the architect of our clan's misery.

"I implore you, Your Majesty, double our forces. Every serpent, from the grandest python to the smallest hatchling, must be put to the sword."

Rage surged through me, hot and suffocating. This was the man who had ordered the slaughter of my family. I squeezed Gideons wrist in a tight, furious grip.

Sensing my sudden agitation, Gideon calmly laid his other hand over me, his thumb gently stroking the top of my head to soothe me. "I hear your concerns, Prophet. We shall discuss this at a later date."

Lucius frowned, stepping forward. "But Your Majesty, this is a matter of urgent"

"Court is dismissed," Gideon interrupted, rising from his throne without another word.

I peeked out from the edge of his sleeve, flicking my tongue toward Lucius as we swept past him.

That afternoon, Lucius left the palace for his private manor.

Waiting until Gideon was deeply engrossed in his paperwork, I slipped down his sleeve, sliding along the baseboards and out into the gardens.

Lucius was a cunning old fox; physical force or brute strength would never work on him. But during my time spent clinging to the King, I had observed the royal physicians and managed to swipe a pouch of powerful sleeping powder used to treat Gideons occasional insomnia.

I had stolen a massive dose. I would knock the old bastard out cold, and then Id find a way to finish him.

Keeping to my snake form to avoid detection, I carried the pouch in my mouth, trailing Lucius through the winding, quiet streets of the capital.

When he finally turned down a deserted alley, I coiled my tail and launched myself through the air, flinging the pouch directly at his face.

But Lucius didn't flinch. A sickening, cruel grin stretched across his wrinkled face. He whipped out a heavy silk fan and gave it a sharp, powerful flick.

The entire cloud of sleeping powder was blown straight back into my face.

The world began to spin. My vision blurred, my muscles went limp, and I collapsed onto the cold stone path with a soft plop.

A sharp, agonizing pain flared in my tail.

Lucius ground his heavy boot down on my lower body, twisting his heel with slow, deliberate cruelty. He looked down at me, his voice dripping with malice. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice you tailing me, you pathetic little worm?"

I thrashed in agony, but the pressure only intensified, crushing my delicate scales.

"A mere corn snake trying to take my life?" he hissed, raising his boot to hover directly over my head. "I could crush you like a common garden slug."

He smiled, his boot slowly descending. My vision began to go dark, my lungs screaming for air.

Just as the sole of his boot was about to crush my skull, a calm, commanding voice echoed down the alleyway:

"That is my pet you're stepping on, Prophet. And I get incredibly displeased when people break my toys."