Kulebra

By Wendelyn Vega

If you ask my father who I am, he'll tell you I'm nobility, daughter of a warrior and stepdaughter of a queen. And if you grabbed someone off the street, you'd probably hear that I was something that might just steal your children from their beds at night, but you didn't hear it from them. But if you ask me, I'd say the term "misfit" is more appropriate.

Kulebra Uhero — or "Kula", as she insists everyone call her — doesn't want to be a diplomat. She's Ahktali's least qualified princess, and she's content to trade her royal duties of attending palace guests for overseeing royal animals instead. But after tragedy strikes, she's left as her little sister and new queen's only resort to quell the fears of an empire. When her mission of goodwill doesn't go according to plan, Kula is left with several enemies and the threat of a province's rebellion looming on the horizon. As she truly discovers her nation for the first time, she is forced to confront not only Derian's shrewdest politicians but herself as well.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Bohemian Academic
• Release date: Mar 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393798590

Wendelyn Vega

Thank you for reading My Heart Open: A Chapbook on Connection, Pain, and Love! If you'd like to learn more about me or read my other work, visit my website at WendelynVega.com. Also, you can join my mailing list and get access to my freebie library at books.wendelynvega.com! ___ Wendelyn Vega is an author, poet, and international woman of timidity. She's also a language-enthusiast, fledgling artist, and constant daydreamer. When she's not writing, she enjoys reading, trying out new recipes, spending time with her husband, and playing with the three mini tigers she keeps in her house.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Kula

If you ask my father who I am, he’ll tell you I’m nobility, daughter of a warrior and stepdaughter of a queen. And if you grabbed someone from the street, you’d probably hear that I was something that might just steal your children from their beds at night, but you didn’t hear it from them. But if you ask me, I'd say the term misfit is more appropriate. 

My snake Nofi coils himself around my hand, resting in the beam of sunlight streaming through the leaf-covered branches above me. It’s midday, so he’s set to soak up as much sunlight as he can. I’ve never had a fear of snakes, but even if I did, Nofi’s bite is harmless. There’s no venom in it. When he’s reached a comfortable position, he rests his small head in my palm.

I lean my head back on the trunk of the tree I’ve claimed for my own and survey the field full of sheep and scattered shepherds. In the distance, the two giant stone tusks that mark Ahktali’s river port loom over the horizon—one of the few remnants of magic left in our queendom. The city separates the fields from the river, but I enjoy spending my time here. Few princesses choose the role of chief herdsman for the queen, but I relish the position. I can take a shift with the animals whenever I want, and it gives me time to be alone.

Sometimes my family wonders why I feel so comfortable with snakes—and with animals in general—but as I sit here in the pasture watching the sheep, I know it’s because they are the only ones who don’t look at me with fear. I’m like they are.

Kula! My father trudges through the field in a bright blue royal tunic, shielding his eyes from the sun as he tries to keep the hem of his robe from getting dirty.

I wave him over. Here, Baba.

He approaches the base of the tree and frowns. What are you doing out here?

I gesture to the animals wandering through the grass in front of me. Working.

Baba shakes his head. Why would you be working on a day like this? There are twenty shepherds out here already. You know you have plans today.

I feign ignorance as dread creeps into my chest. What are these plans?

You know what day it is.

It’s Rije. I adjust my plain, dusty tunic while Baba watches, disapproving. But I spend my days with livestock, and they never care what I look like.

Baba rolls his eyes. Don’t play, Kula. It’s your sister’s declaration, and you know it.

I nod as if I’m just remembering. Ah yes. I remember the other shepherds talking about something like that.

Baba purses his lips and shakes his head. What did you think we were preparing for all this time?

The palace is always preparing for something.

As we walk into the city, I rest Nofi around my neck, and Baba winces. Which one is that?

I laugh. Nofi. The youngest. 

Baba has never understood my interest in snakes. I’ve never understood his lack of understanding. He named me. 

As for Nik, I’ll give her my congratulations.

He frowns. You must feel the need to do more than that.

I groan. My father never demands, always requests, but always in such a way that I can’t refuse.

When he realizes that I have no intention of answering, he goes on. It’s only natural that you attend.

I stop mid-step. You can’t be—

I am serious.

You know how I am around people. 

We stare at each other, and I blink first. Baba continues walking.

You are seventeen. That’s old enough to be unaffected, he answers.

Not likely, I retort, Not unless Saraun Uwa has passed some kind of law prohibiting people from seeing me.

Don’t be dramatic, Baba chides me. Just behave yourself, and everything will be fine.

But my eyes—

Are not more important than your sister. And Natafiwa insists.

I have no argument, and Baba knows it. I can’t refuse the queen. But they both know I avoid being seen in public. It is much easier to remain in solitude than to explain how I have the name and the eyes of a snake. I’m not good at explanations, and I gave up trying a long time ago. Besides, I can never ask my birth mother why she wanted me called the Queen of Snakes, and Baba won’t explain why he went through with it after she died.

My eyes—bright green and gold with narrow pupils—make me look like a legend, but I’m more of a scarecrow than an actual monster. The Watchmen—the keepers of magic—examined me soon after I was born, and they determined that my eyes were the only spectacular thing about me. While I was born looking like Kulebra, Queen of Snakes, I don’t have any of her abilities. Her stories are the only remnants of magic to curse my life.

I follow Baba through the palace and into the family house, where my siblings and I live. My eyes strain to adjust to the dim light coming in through the high windows. Their unnatural coloring offers me no advantage in eyesight. I’ve barely made it over the threshold before I’m accosted by Niksele. 

She’s half prepared for her declaration, and deep brown designs henna artists spent hours painting onto her adorn her arms and legs. She wraps her arms around my neck like it’s my birthday and not her own, and I hope her skin has dried. The last thing she needs is to be smudged with henna at her declaration, but she’s the first person I know who would forget herself to hug someone else. It suits her well, but I don’t always know how to handle it. If she’s seen Nofi, she ignores him.

I haven’t seen you all day! she exclaims.

I pat her henna-covered arms, careful to avoid the intricate designs. Congratulations.

You are coming, aren’t you?

Well…

She’s coming, Baba interjects from across the room as he goes to make sure our brothers, Kiho, Ife, and Hajari, are preparing and not playing in the yard. They’re probably playing in the yard.

I wince and try to think of an excuse. I’m not sure I have anything to wear.

Nik frowns at me. Yes you do, and even if you don’t, you can wear something of mine.

Nik is petite and thin, in stark contrast to my taller, thicker figure. My birth mother was a soldier, and I have her physique. In theory, I could wear a wrap dress of Nik's, but I’d have much less fabric to work with. And I have things to wear. I would just rather not go.

She points to my neck. Nofi?

I smile. You remember.

He’s smaller than the others, and you said he’s not poisonous.

He’s not venomous. I pause before turning again to the subject of the declaration. You don’t need me there. The rest of the family will be in attendance. With all the celebration, you won’t even miss me.

I will. Besides, Baba says you’re coming.

I—

And Inna says you’re coming. So that’s that. I’ll see you there! 

Nik saunters away, leaving me alone in the antechamber that leads to our rooms, the rooms of the queen’s children. I stand still in the quiet space for a moment before entering my room feeling slightly envious of Nik’s casual use of the word inna. I can never quite bring myself to call Natafiwa mother. I live in the family house, in a room built for the queen’s children, but I’m not the queen’s child. My mother is dead, and my father is Queen Natafiwa’s husband. 

There isn’t a soul in all Ahktali, in all Derian, who doesn’t know that I’m Natafiwa’s stepdaughter. It isn’t unheard of that a queen would marry a man who already has a child; in fact, several past queens were intent on marrying men who already had daughters, thinking it would give them a better chance to secure their bloodline. The belief is that a man with daughters is more likely to have daughters, and so the queen will have an heir. But Natafiwa should have been afraid of birthing an heir like me. It’s a blessing that Nik is normal.

My room is dark and cool, and my pets settle in the slits of sunbeams that grace their pens. My reptiles may not leave my room, but I sneak them out from time to time. I slide Nofi into his home before flopping onto my bed. The ceremony will start just before sunset, so I have several hours to procrastinate.

I lie still on my bed and wait for the cool air to lull me to sleep, but sleep won’t come. If there was a way I could attend without being subjected to the masses, I would do it in a heartbeat.

There’s little chance of me sleeping, so I turn to my second pastime. I reach for my flute and take a seat under the thin light of my window. It doesn’t take me long to think of what to play. I always start with the same song, an easy lullaby I remember Baba singing to me when I was small. It reminds me of the tunes Elisyan snake charmers play on their algaitas, lulling snakes to sleep and charming shoppers in the marketplaces of Ahktali. I let the sound cradle my imagination and watch my pets steal the sleep I can’t find.

Chapter 2

Gowan

Iarrive at my post at the southern gate five minutes before I’m scheduled to take up duty. It’s just enough time for me to spend a few moments chatting with my friends before I begin my shift. My closest friends are also guards, but monitoring citizens entering and exiting the city and doing rounds along our segment of the southern wall leaves little time for socializing. It’s best to get it out of the way early. The gate is busy as city-dwellers, farmers, and travelers enter and exit, trying to beat the crowds for the princess’ declaration. I squeeze between a man carrying a chicken and a woman balancing fabric on her head to get to the guard station.

My friend Alek waves me over as I approach. We greet each other, clasping hands for a moment, and I lean over to pat him on the back. He’s shorter than me, but not so much that it’s uncomfortable. When we step back, he shakes a sealed note in my face as he chides me.

Here early? I’m not surprised, but I was just sent out to stop you.

What for? I ask. 

It’s not for me to say, but… Alek raises his eyebrows, and it’s obvious he’s about to divulge something he shouldn’t know. They’ve pushed your shift back two hours. You’re to meet with the palace commander.

The palace commander? I take the note from Alek and break the seal to read its contents. I’m to report to the palace commander at a station close to here. He came all the way here to see me? I can’t get my hopes up too high. There’s no way I’m in line for a promotion already. I just started working here not too long ago. But why else would they grant me all these interviews? This isn’t the first one. I close the note and examine its exterior again. The deep red image of a bear and a cat is cracked through its center. The seal is legitimate. It’s from the palace. I try not to sigh, but Alek notices my apprehension anyway.

Don’t be nervous. You’ll do great.

 I thank him and head to the station. This is the most recent of several interviews I’ve had over the past couple of months. I’ve only been out of my apprenticeship for a year, and I’ve just started at the southern gate, yet I’ve met not only my commanding officer’s superior but some of the most important staff in the palace. The palace guard I met my first week working here must have spoken for me. I’m not sure how I impressed him when he was here—he spoke to each of us for a while—but I must have done something.

He was here while there was an incident at the gate. Two feuding families came through our gate, and a fight broke out. We broke it up, and the guard commended us on our quick handling of the situation. From his bearing and his weapons, we could tell his rank was higher than ours, but we didn’t find out until later that he was a palace guard and a friend of the queen and regent. He must have been scouting for a new palace guard.

The commander waits for me in a back room of the southern station. The room is part of an older section of the building, so I have to duck to get inside. Once I’ve straightened up, my head coming close to the ceiling, I salute, and the commander gestures for me to sit down at a low table with him. I’ve only seen the man once before, during training, but up close, he looks like he could be my grandfather. He has an imposing build that reminds me of my father, so it must be as uncomfortable for him as it is for me to stand in here. He sits and stretches his legs out in front of his cushion, at ease, but I cross my legs close to me. It is still an interview.

How are you today, son? the commander asks me.

I have to pause before answering. Commanders rarely ask how subordinates are doing, and they never ask subordinates that aren’t their own.

I’m in good condition, sir.

It’s the most appropriate response I can think of.

The commander nods. I’m sorry you will miss the princess’ declaration, but the queen asked me to conduct this interview today.

The queen? Queen Natafiwa herself wanted the commander to meet with me? My sudden excitement becomes a cough that is much too loud. I wince. And just after telling the commander I’m in good condition, too.

I understand sir, I say as soon as I can. It is my honor to do as the queen desires.

The commander nods again and shifts in his seat. Your other interviews have gone very well, and all who’ve met you speak well of you. You are competent, and your sense of duty and loyalty are unquestionable.

He pauses like he’s waiting for a response, so I say, Thank you, sir. Those are more compliments in a row than I’ve received since I started working.

Another nod. Your parents also commend you.

When did someone speak to my parents? They’ve said nothing, and my family is terrible at keeping secrets.

Between the two of us, your path to the palace seems secure.

My heartbeat quickens and I wipe my sweaty palms on my tunic. They're considering me as a palace guard? Thoughts rush through my mind in succession. How is this happening so soon? What does it mean for my career? Will the others in my company resent me? How can I leave so soon? This means wonderful things for my family. Does a job at the palace mean less danger or more? What will my duties be? Will I be able to fulfill them? What if I disappoint the queen and everyone who recommended me? Will I be marriageable again? That would be wonderful. That also means my parents will start setting up meetings again. Less wonderful. My heart falls as I remember the girl I had courted. She had married a healer earlier this year. Who else could there be? The palace pays much better than the gates. And the raise in salary will help my family’s living situation.

I realize three seconds too late that the commander is waiting for my response. I piece together his sentence in my head. Questions. Personal. Delicate situations. This interview is about my personality and how I handle delicate situations. There have to be many of those at the palace.

Thank you for considering me, sir, I answer, my words running together to escape my mouth.

Life in the palace differs from life at the gates. You will be much more involved in the lives of everyone who passes through there and everyone who lives there. That is why I perform these interviews myself. Any guards in the palace reflect me, and some in the palace can be more of a… he glances up like he’s searching for a word, Challenge than others.

I understand, sir.

For the next two hours, the commander asks me questions about how I would handle an argument between family members, what my personal relationships are like, who I know and care about in Ahktali, how I deal with relationships that are both personal and professional, how I would go about correcting a superior, and how I handle people who have conflicts with me. The questions are challenging, but I answer as best I can. The worst he can do is not hire me.

Before the interview is over, the commander asks me what type of person is my least favorite to deal with. I have to think about if for a moment. It is difficult for me to deal with rude or irresponsible people. I also have a hard time with those who are dramatic or who don’t appreciate the seriousness of serious issues. I find I can’t settle on one thing, so I tell the commander all of this. He raises his eyebrows.

Interesting. And how do you handle such people? Outside of avoiding them. He chuckles at his own joke.

I laugh along more out of politeness than humor. Well, it is hard for me, sir, but not impossible. I treat them like—

I pause, reluctant to give my example. Like my little sister.

Like your little sister?

Yes, sir. My sister Julli is eleven. She’s dramatic and can be rude and irresponsible. But it’s because she’s immature. I believe people like that are immature, and most will grow out of it.

The commander looks amused. And how does your sister respond to your treatment of her when she’s being ‘immature’?

She responds well. I think back to some of our most recent disagreements. Julli seems to grow more dramatic, not less. Mostly.

And you’ve tested these methods on others?

I nod. Yes, sir.

Most tests were in school, but I’ve had a few opportunities to deal with some of Derian’s more interesting individuals while at work.

How do they respond?

I wince. It varies.

The day the palace guard came had been a better one. I hope he didn’t choose me for my diplomacy skills.

The commander chuckles. Yes, I imagine it would.

When I return to my post, I can hear the festivities for the declaration. It hasn’t started yet, but many of the city’s citizens are outside the palace, and we can hear their excitement from here.

I’ll miss the actual declaration—I had hoped to see at least the end of it—but I may see the closing of the festival. It is disappointing, but someone has to guard the gate, and with the windfall of blessing I’ve just received, it may as well be me.

How did it go? Alek asks.

Well, I think, I answer. I can’t hide my smile as I start my watch.

Chapter 3

Kula

Ican hear the murmuring crowd in the outer courtyard before I reach it. They’re even louder than the celebratory drums and horns filling the air with their music. I’m sure that the courtyard and the city streets outside of it are filled. Everyone is eager to glimpse Niksele, their future queen. So much for my plan to find an empty corner before people arrived. It was futile anyway—I’m certain to be on the platform with the rest of the nobles when the ceremony starts. There’s no use in hiding now. I can’t cower. I raise my head and my steps become firmer.

The guards nod as I pass, their ceremonial red headdresses bobbing. Inoke—whom I know nearly as well as my father—smiles at me. Those who are familiar with me know that I appreciate little fanfare. When I’m alone, the guards never bother with a full bow, and that’s fine with me. Never let Baba or Saraun Uwa see it though. Neither the guards nor I would ever hear the end of it.

I pause before passing into the outer courtyard, but not for long. People mill around nearby, forming an impromptu parade as blue tunics brush against green and red wrap skirts and headscarves stand out high above the crowd like plumage, a sea of patterns and colors. It stops as I step outside, though. A hush falls upon those nearest the gates. They’ve seen me. They shrink backward with every forward step I take. I give them my best smile—the one I know sends shivers down their backs—and I curtsey. No one smiles back. My eyes must flash because one young woman gasps.

Whispers pass through the crowd. She’s here. She came.

People turn and crane their necks to see. My skin prickles, and I resist the urge to pull my arms around myself. Instead, I stare back. 

Yes, I came, I say loud enough for those around to hear me. Will you move enough to let me get to the throne?

The crowd parts before I’ve even finished speaking. There are some advantages to being frightening. I lower my eyes for no one, holding the gaze of anyone who stares. It doesn’t take long for them to look away. I ignore the weight in my chest as I make my way to the platform through the parting throng and take my place near the throne. Natafiwa has two thrones—an ornate, bejeweled seat that remains in her throne room and small ceremonial stool that’s taken out when she must appear outside of the palace. The second one is here, and all of Nik’s family will gather around it. A few of Nik’s aunts and uncles and her maternal grandfather are here already. Her aunts and uncles nod politely but don’t speak to me. It’s just as well. I know I make them as uncomfortable as I do everyone else, but they can’t afford to show it and shame Natafiwa or Baba.

Her grandfather, though, gestures for me to approach him. I cross the distance between us and give him a bow. Even though Chibuzo Temitope isn't blood related to me, he's accepted me as one of his grandchildren, though he keeps himself at a distance.

Good evening, Enipae Chibuzo, I greet him, using his formal title, Lord Chibuzo. I doubt he’d prefer that I call him Innaba, maternal grandfather, and the looks on his children’s faces show they’d rather I didn’t.

He chuckles, the sound of an elder humoring a young one. Good evening, Obipae Kula.

Most of the queendom refers to me as a princess even though I’m not, since Natafiwa allows it. But only the queen’s birth daughters are princesses. In reality, I’m an obipae, a noble lady. Unfortunately, I’m amongst the noblest of ladies since I’m related to the queen and the crown princess. Noblest in name at least, even if not in reputation.

The day is beautiful, Chibuzo notes after I’ve paid him my respects.

You must be very proud, I say. Chibuzo is one of the few people here who is witnessing his third declaration. He was there for his wife Queen Gizita’s and for Natafiwa’s. 

He nods. It is an honor for this old man to see his granddaughter declared heir to the throne. The Abisade line is strong. She will make a great queen. He smiles. I may permit myself to be prideful, if only for one day.

I ask after his health and the health of all my step-aunts and uncles before I take my place among them. They give me a gap of space, a buffer between them and me. It’s always like this at royal functions—I may be the crown princess’ sister, but I’m still an outsider.

In a few minutes it will be time for the ceremony to start. Nik will appear in the procession after the highest ranking nobles, the head general, and several soldiers. My three younger brothers scamper up onto the platform behind me. They hastily greet their family before coming to sit at my feet.

Dancers begin their performance. We clap and whoop as five men in massive wood and straw masks bound into the open space to the rapid beat of drums. They run in a wild circle before regrouping to begin a carefully choreographed dance complete with acrobatics and pretend mistakes meant to delight the audience. 

It works. The people are enthralled. Even I am so distracted that I don’t notice Marima approaching until it is too late. I see her in the outskirts of my vision, and I don’t stifle my groan.

I was raised to respect my elders like every decent Ahktali child, but some elders make respecting them difficult. Marima is one of them. I’m not entirely certain what I did to make her enjoy nipping at my heels like a useless guard dog, but any time she sees me, she makes a pointed effort to make me strike out. As much as I would like to deny her the pleasure, her efforts are rarely wasted. I try to duck away, but my brothers are sitting in the path of my feet, and I can’t move quickly enough.

Marima sidles up next to me. Kulebra! If it isn’t my favorite snake! Her voice is all honey.