The seeress remained detached from her surroundings until Shupansea crossed the threshold with Prince Kadakithis and a dozen courtiers in her wake. The Beysa dropped gracefully to her knees and attempted to take her daughter into her arms. Chabostu would have none of it and fought like a little demon to avoid her mother’s attention.
“Your Serenity . . . ?” Vanda interjected cautiously, cocking a finger ever so slightly to the bandage.
Knowing what would happen if the wound bled again, Shupansea withdrew her arms. “It has been very difficult for her,” she explained softly and quickly to Illyra, speaking like any mother who had been shamed or rejected by her offspring rather than as the de facto ruler of Sanctuary-
Illyra, though she was the mother of a probable god, had no idea how to speak to one who was personally both goddess and queen. She cast a furtive glance toward Vanda whose nod, she assumed, meant she should treat Shupansea with the same calculated familiarity she accorded her paying visitors. “Children have their own minds,” she said with a trace of a smile.
The Beysa had the good manners, not to stare, but her pet viper chose that moment to rustle through her undergarments and poke its jewel- colored head above her collar. It tasted the air, revealing its crimson maw and ivory fangs, then, while the women held motionless, it lowered itself onto Illyra’s sleeve.
“Don’t move,” Shupansea cautioned unnecessarily.
The immense NO remained imprisoned until the beymt investigated the clotted blood on Illyra’s sleeve with its darting tongue. Any thoughts of instant death were insignificant compared to the reality of the serpent’s touch. With a stifled gasp, Illyra propelled herself out of the circle, fling- ing the serpent and the child in opposite directions.