Chapter 1 My Father Sold Me to a Serpent King

Lysander Bellrose

The first time my father told me I was getting married, I laughed. The second time, I laughed harder. By the third time, I realized he wasn't joking, and I seriously considered throwing myself out of the breakfast room window.

Unfortunately, we lived on the second floor, and I wasn't particularly interested in breaking my legs before breakfast.

"You want me to marry WHO?" My father pressed his fingers against his forehead. "The Serpent King, Lysander." I stared at him. Then I stared at my mother, who suddenly seemed fascinated by her teacup. Then I looked back at my father. "The immortal Serpent King?" "Yes." "The ruler of Nagaeon?" "Yes." "The one whose subjects supposedly eat humans for breakfast?" "Lysander, they do not eat humans for breakfast!" "Oh, wonderful. So I'm marrying a man whose people might eat me for lunch instead." My mother sighed, and I considered that a victory. For twenty-three years, I had endured lectures about manners, responsibility, family honor, and the importance of marrying someone respectable. Apparently, my family's definition of respectable had finally expanded to include a terrifying supernatural monarch. I leaned back in my chair. "Father, I have a question." "What?" "Have you lost your mind, or has someone stolen it?" His expression darkened. "Lysander!" "What? I'm concerned about your health." "You will marry King Sylas Nocthar." There it was again, that ridiculous name. Sylas Nocthar. It sounded like the name of a villain who murdered entire villages before breakfast and complained when the blood stained his expensive boots. I picked up my cup and took a sip of tea. It was cold. Naturally. Apparently, even my tea had decided to abandon me. "Why me?" I asked. My father hesitated, and that hesitation told me everything. Our family was broke. Not the charming sort of broke where one sells an unnecessary carriage and complains about having only three servants. No. We were the sort of broke where my father had started counting coins in his study and pretending not to notice when the servants reused candles. Our estate had debts. Our lands had been sold.

Our family name, once respected throughout Valedria, was losing its shine. And now my father had apparently decided that selling his second son to a serpent was an excellent financial strategy. "The ancient treaty requires a human consort from a recognized noble family," he explained. "The king has requested one, and our family has been selected." "Selected?" "Yes." "Like a particularly unfortunate vegetable at the market?" My father slammed his palm against the table. I flinched. Not because I was afraid of him, but because the table had survived three generations of Bellroses, and I would hate to be responsible for its premature death. "This is a serious matter!" "So is my future, Father. Yet nobody seems interested in discussing it with me." My mother finally looked up. "Lysander, darling, please understand. This marriage will protect our family." "And what will it do to me?" Neither of them answered. I laughed softly, because for once, I couldn't think of anything funny to say. My father had already agreed. He had made the decision, signed whatever documents needed signing, and arranged my marriage without asking whether I wanted it. I was twenty-three years old, and apparently, that was old enough to be sacrificed but not old enough to decide whom I married. "When do I leave?" I asked. "Tomorrow morning." I stared at him. "Tomorrow?" "Yes." "Wonderful. Should I pack my belongings, or would the king prefer them delivered separately with a ribbon?" "Lysander, enough." I stood. "Of course, Father. Heaven forbid I complain about being sent to marry a man I've never met." I left the breakfast room before he could respond. Behind me, my mother called my name, and I pretended not to hear her. If I stayed another minute, I might actually cry, and I would rather swallow a spoon than give my father the satisfaction of seeing me break.

Besides, I had more important things to worry about. Such as whether serpents had teeth. And whether their king had scales beneath his clothes. And whether I would be expected to share a bed with a creature that could swallow me whole. Honestly, my prospects were looking terrible. By the following morning, my belongings had been packed into four trunks. Four. I stood in my bedroom, staring at them. "Am I getting married or being exiled?" My personal attendant, Thomas, folded another shirt. "Your father wants you to make a good impression, my lord." "On the king or his dinner guests?" Thomas paused. I sighed. "That was a joke." "I know, my lord." "You look frightened." "I'm not frightened." "Thomas, you look like you're attending my funeral." He lowered his head. I patted his shoulder. "Cheer up. If I die, you can have my blue coat." "Please don't say that." "Fine. You can have the black one instead." He looked even more miserable, so I decided to stop helping. After breakfast, I spent several minutes examining myself in the mirror. Dark brown hair. Green eyes. A face my mother described as handsome and my older relatives described as wasted potential. Personally, I thought I looked perfectly acceptable. I wasn't a prince, a warrior, or a magical prodigy.

I was simply Lysander Bellrose, a nobleman with an unfortunate mouth and a family that had apparently decided I was expendable. I adjusted my collar. "Well, Lysander," I told my reflection, "today you become someone's husband." I paused. "God, that sounds awful." Then I grabbed my coat and left. The journey to Nagaeon took two days. Two miserable, uncomfortable, soul-destroying days. The carriage bounced over rocky roads, my back hurt, and the food provided by the traveling attendants tasted like someone had boiled a shoe.

By the third morning, I was ready to declare war on the entire mountain range. Then the carriage stopped. I leaned toward the window. "Why have we stopped?" The driver opened the door. "We've arrived, my lord." I stepped outside and immediately forgot every complaint I had prepared. The palace was enormous. Dark towers rose against the cloudy sky, connected by black bridges that stretched over a seemingly bottomless ravine. Silver serpents were carved into the stone walls, their mouths open around crowns. The gates were tall enough to accommodate a giant, and beyond them, strange figures moved through the courtyard. Some looked human.

Others had scales along their necks, slit pupils, horns, or long tails. I stared. One of the guards turned toward me, revealing golden eyes with narrow, reptilian pupils, and I stared harder. Then I leaned toward Thomas.

"Are you absolutely certain my father couldn't have sent someone else?" Thomas swallowed. "Yes, my lord." "Terrible. Absolutely terrible." The palace gates opened, and every person in the courtyard immediately bowed their head. I looked around. Then I looked at the enormous doors. "Oh, no." Thomas glanced at me. "What is it?" "Someone important is coming." "That's the king, my lord." "Yes, Thomas. I gathered that from the sudden appearance of a hundred people who look as though they've forgotten how to breathe." Footsteps echoed across the stone. I turned, and there he was.

King Sylas Nocthar. My future husband. My first thought was that my father had neglected to mention something rather important. The Serpent King was ridiculously handsome. He appeared to be in his late twenties, with long black hair, pale skin, sharp features, and golden eyes that reminded me of sunlight trapped inside amber.

He wore black robes embroidered with silver serpents. He was tall, elegant, and terrifyingly beautiful. My second thought was considerably less dignified. Oh, no. He's a man. Of course, I knew that already. My father had explicitly told me I was marrying a male serpent king. But knowing something and actually standing in front of the man you were expected to marry were two entirely different experiences. Was I gay now? Was that how this worked? Did one royal decree automatically change a person's entire romantic life?

I glanced at Sylas again. Well. At least he was handsome. Then I mentally slapped myself. Absolutely not. I was not going to develop a crush on a man who could probably have me executed before lunch. Besides, I had no idea whether I even liked men. I had never imagined marrying one, and I certainly hadn't imagined marrying an immortal serpent king who looked as though he could ruin someone's life with a single glance.

Sylas stopped in front of me. His golden eyes swept over my face. "You are the human consort?" I glanced behind myself. There was nobody else near the carriage. "Unless my father secretly arranged for a second victim, yes." The silence that followed was extraordinary. I almost admired it. The king tilted his head. "You have a remarkable mouth." "Thank you. I've had it my entire life." Someone behind him made a strange choking sound. I suspected it was a guard trying not to laugh. Sylas didn't smile. Perhaps the man had never heard a joke in his entire immortal life, which was a tragic condition. "You know who I am?" he asked. "Judging by everyone's reaction, I'm guessing you're the king." "And if I am?" "Then I would like to complain about the journey." His gaze sharpened. I swallowed. Perhaps I should have kept that particular thought inside my head, but it was too late now. "You have been brought here to become my consort," he said. "I gathered that from the four trunks my father packed." "You will obey the laws of my kingdom." "Naturally." "You will not enter restricted chambers without permission." "Understandable." "You will not interfere in matters of state." "Unless matters of state interfere with my breakfast?" The courtyard fell silent. I stared at him, and he stared back. I began to suspect that my future husband was not particularly fond of me, which was an unfortunate development, considering we had known each other for approximately thirty seconds. "You are either very brave or very foolish," he said. "I've been accused of both." He stepped closer. I caught a strange scent in the air, something cold and dark, like rain on stone, and the back of my neck prickled. For one brief moment, I felt the overwhelming urge to step away. I refused. I had already been dragged across two days of miserable roads to marry this man, and I would not begin our relationship by allowing his perfume to intimidate me. "Do you object to marrying me?" Sylas asked. I blinked. Was he serious? "Your Majesty, I object to marrying a man I met approximately three minutes ago." "And yet you came." "My father has a regrettable habit of making decisions for other people." "Then perhaps you should learn to obey him." I smiled. "Perhaps you should learn that not everyone is your subject." The guards looked ready to dig my grave. Sylas studied me with an expression I couldn't quite understand, and I had the uncomfortable feeling that he was deciding whether I was amusing enough to keep alive. Finally, he straightened. "Take him to the east wing. The wedding will take place soon." I frowned. "Excuse me?" He turned his head. "Did I speak unclearly?" "You said wedding. I was under the impression that the treaty required a consort, not a husband who gets delivered like a parcel." His eyes narrowed. "Do you object to marrying me?" "Yes." The word escaped before I could stop it. Wonderful. I had just rejected the most powerful man in the kingdom. Perhaps I should have asked Thomas to pack a shovel. Sylas stepped closer. "You are standing in my kingdom, human." "I noticed." "You will follow my rules." "And you will follow mine." A dangerous silence settled between us. Then the king's mouth curved ever so slightly. It wasn't a friendly smile. It was the sort of smile a predator might wear when it discovered that its prey had teeth. "Interesting." He turned away. "Bring him to me tomorrow." And just like that, my future husband walked back into his enormous palace, leaving me standing in the courtyard with a rapidly deteriorating sense of self-preservation. I watched him disappear, then turned to Thomas. "Well." Thomas looked pale. "My lord, you cannot speak to the king like that." "Apparently, I can." "He could have you imprisoned." "Then I hope the prison has comfortable beds." Thomas looked ready to cry. I sighed and followed the attendants inside. The palace was even more impressive from within. Marble floors stretched beneath towering ceilings, and silver serpents decorated the pillars. Strange paintings lined the walls, depicting ancient battles between humans and creatures I couldn't identify. I tried not to stare at everything. I failed. A servant led me through several corridors before opening the doors to a spacious bedroom. The bed was enormous. The curtains were black. The windows overlooked a garden filled with silver-leaved trees. I stepped inside. "Is this my room?" "Yes, my lord." "Wonderful. Does it come with an escape route?" The servant stared at me. "That was another joke," I explained. Nobody in this kingdom seemed to appreciate my sense of humor. Perhaps they needed time. Or perhaps they were all born without functioning personalities.

Once the servants left, I closed the door and leaned against it. For the first time since arriving, I allowed myself to breathe. I was in Nagaeon. I was going to marry a man.

A very handsome man. A terrifyingly handsome man who looked no older than twenty-eight despite supposedly having lived for centuries. And I had already managed to insult him repeatedly. I pressed both hands against my face. "What have I done?"

Nothing, technically. My father had done it. But that was hardly comforting. I crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Tomorrow, I would see Sylas again. Soon, I would become his husband.

I had no idea what that marriage would mean, what the king expected from me, or whether I would survive long enough to regret it properly. But I knew one thing. If Sylas Nocthar expected me to become a silent, obedient consort who bowed whenever he entered a room, he was going to have a very unpleasant surprise.

I might be an ordinary human. I might have no magic, no army, and no powerful relatives willing to rescue me. But I still had my mouth, and I intended to use it.

After all, if I was going to be trapped in a marriage with the most terrifying king in the supernatural world, I might as well make his life as miserable as he was about to make mine.