Page 12 of The Serpent Prince

A sickening feeling came over her body at that fact, and Imani almost retched on the ground.

Kiran had been hatching even more dangerous plans than she’d realized. The prince needed someone bonded to him to travel with him to a dangerous place. Esa needed to get to the Under, and it seemed Kiran was taking her to fulfill a different purpose. Pieces started coming together, but in her weakened state, they jumbled together as she tried not to throw up again. Desperation for the Drasil clawed at her heart. She was in over her head with the First Witch of the Niflheim Kingdom.

That was a problem for another day. Right now, she needed to stay alive.

The sound of feet moving over gravel filled Imani’s ears, and she yelled, a bloodcurdling howl of fear mixed with remnants of pain, calling for help—but no one replied. They continued talking as if they couldn’t hear her screams. Her face contorted, realizing no one could hear her because her voice was gone and it was only in her head.

“She’s not dying—not really.” Kiran sounded detached and cold.

“She sure seems like she’s dying. I’ve never seen this happen to a witch before,” Esa replied.

“It’s rare, but it happens with some types of magic,” he explained as he leaned over, half-smugly smiling down at Imani. “She lost control of her casting, and it ran wild inside her. Magic like hers takes more from the Fabric than most witches use in a month. It kills fast but drains her just as quickly when she abuses it, or can’t control it properly.”

“Can she live through the pain as her energy and magic replenish?” Esa asked as Imani’s eyes fluttered open for a moment.

Kiran nodded, still slyly smirking at her as his eyes turned cruel. “She’s done it before. What kills everyone else will only make it seem like she’s dying.”

He was wrong; this didn’t feel like the last time after the blood burning. Maybe it was from the echo shield he had cast over her, or from whatever increase in magic had happened between her and Meira, but something wasn’t right. She was dying. She didn’t know how or why, but she was dying all the same.

Esa and Kiran kneeled in front of her. Esa reached out her hand and caressed it down Imani’s cheek. Again, Imani’s eyes fluttered open at the touch. When Esa pulled away, a black glittering powder covered her fingertips, and she rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger.

“Lightning dust,” she murmured, sucking in a breath. “That was artificial lightning. Yours, Kiran?”

Imani’s eyes rolled back into her head at a wave of pain. She couldn’t see his response, but she assumed that it was, given the man-made storm.

“Then, if I had to guess, it interacted with her spell, but something went wrong. That black mist she wields is insanely powerful if it can ensure the lightning degraded into dust.” Esa continued, “Darkness abhors light, after all.”

Kiran said something, but Imani didn’t hear him.

“Bullshit,” Esa snapped.

Imani imagined Kiran shrugging—probably confident in the binding’s protection. But he was wrong. Imani just couldn’t correct him in her state. Whatever new, raw magic imbued her body pounded against Imani’s skin and threatened to tear her open from the inside out. This was entirely different from when she’d passed out from the blood burning with him.

A long pause, and then Esa added in a low voice, “Listen, I learned something interesting today about our elf.”

“Which was …?” Kiran prompted.

“She has an answer to a question you’ve been seeking for years. A question whose answer you asked me to learn, but I never could. We can’t risk her dying. I won’t risk her dying until I get answers—answers that she possesses. Are you sure she’ll survive?”

Silence.

“Kiran,” Esa said more forcefully. Her voice was tight, and Imani understood Esa all too well at this moment. The pixie was desperate—desperate to save Imani, probably to hear about her own death by being burned at the stake. But based on what Kiran had said to Tanyl a few weeks ago—that when he died it wouldn’t be from Tanyl’s hands—Imani figured the prince had already used divination to see his own suicidal death.

So, what answer did Imani have for Kiran?

It was probably nothing she wanted to tell him.

She wrenched open her eyes, painfully, and stared up at his mismatched eyes through slits, wondering again what had caused such a disfiguration.

Suddenly, he ripped open her eyelids then pressed fingers to her wrist, checking her pulse. A long silence stretched between them.

“Shit. Something isn’t right,” he finally said, his jaw clenched. “Godsdammit, something isn’t right—fucking Saints! Her eyes are glowing red and getting worse.” Kiran swore again, sounding more worried than she’d ever heard him before.

Imani’s eyes closed on their own again.

He lifted her with powerful arms, holding her closely before carrying her somewhere, likely inside the carriage. Her eyelids opened and closed a little as he carefully laid her down on a soft cushioned seat like she was made of glass and took out his wand.

He ripped her dress open enough to expose her abdomen. “Do not move,” the prince warned, dragging a hand through his hair, pushing the now-dry strands back from his forehead.