The grimoire dictated that she had to catch a live serpent, harvest its skin, and at twilight, burn the shed scales to inhale the smoke, unlocking a fluid, boneless grace within her body.
She could not let anyone know what she was attempting, so she plotted to trap the creature in absolute secrecy. Following her evening duties, she dismissed her matronly maidservant, Priyal, under the pretext of an early exhaustion, and slipped down to the south-facing foundations beneath the royal wing.
There, the sun-baked masonry retained its heat long after dusk, a haven where she had once spotted a serpent gliding between the crevices. Armed with a pair of thick quilted clouts borrowed from the kitchens, a single tallow candle, and a heavy glass jar to secure her prize, Gela combed the dark foundations.
She had anticipated a small, easily managed garter snake or a sluggish adder fattened on grain-mice. Instead, as her guttering candle cast its light over a breach in a crumbling drystone wall, the shadow that detached itself from the stone made her breath catch.
It was a monstrous thing—a heavy-bodied brute as thick as a grown man’s forearm, its scales the dull, mottled gray of chipped flint. As the flame drew near, its head reared a foot from the earth, and Gela caught the terrifying glint of a long, black, flicking tongue.
Seized by panic, Gela dropped everything in her hands and ran; with the candle lost, the world went dark. Unable to see if the serpent was giving chase, she ran haphazardly through the shadows until her left foot snared upon a sprawling tree root.
Her body twisted violently forward as she fell. White-hot agony tore through her ankle, and she shrieked—both from the agonizing wrench of the bone and the paralyzing fear of the serpent somewhere behind her in the dark. Fortunately, a passing castle servant caught the echo of her piercing scream, and she was carried swiftly to safety.The morning following her rescue, Gela lay with her leg tightly immobilized in thick rolls of linen bindings. Archanatomist Cledwyn strictly forbade her from moving the limb, charging her to keep to her bed for the week. Her royal mother came to see her shortly after the anatomist left.
She slapped Gela across the face, telling her they had found her shattered glass jar, the candle, and the kitchen clouts. She searched the chambers, found the hidden grimoire, and confiscated it.
As much as the slap pained Gela, it pained her far more that her sister Anasha was there to witness her humiliation at their mother’s hand. Yet, instead of following immediately as Queen Malin commanded, Anasha lingered behind for just a moment to plant a kiss on Gela’s cheek, then hurried back to their mother’s side.
Katarina herself changed Gela's bindings every two days and repeatedly assured her that her foot was recovering very well and she would be ready to move about the castle in weeks. Celesta brought her pastries and books to read as she recovered. Through it all, Gela noted the profound kindness of all three of her sisters—none of whom uttered a single inquiry regarding how she had come by her injury.
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