Page 124 of The Serpent Prince

Imani couldn’t move. Her anger was like a living, breathing thing threatening to wrap around her body a thousand times until it crushed her into dust.

He was a lunatic.

Imani didn’t fight the tears anymore and let them fall.

“Imani.” His voice was quiet but held a commanding edge. “Say something. You’re upset.”

“Be your mistress? It’s laughable. The whole country knows I’m your heartmate—your real heartmate.” Imani let out a humorless chuckle while Kiran stared solemnly, as though his words were reasonable and perfectly normal instead of outrageously insulting.

He shrugged and gave her a bored look that made her seethe more. “Zadie is right; you could never be my queen. People understand heartmates can’t always be together. We have other plans for you, though. I figured you’d understand all this—you’re a smart girl.”

A deep silence permeated the room.

It dawned on Imani then just how much she had been willing to give up for Kiran.

Disgust shuddered through her.

She quickly began reworking things in her mind, reverting back to what she’d originally intended to do before her ill-conceived notions of being together had made her temporarily insane. How could she hope to right things with Essenheim when she was over here, hidden away like Kiran wanted? It was impossible.

Once again, Kiran had almost made her a fool. Almost. She’d never be subservient to him. Never.

She was a queen—or soon to be the queen of Essenheim once she handled Tanyl—and this disrespect would not stand.

Imani felt a phantom knife in her back, one that she’d felt before, and it hit her the same way. Despite being from a different betrayal, Kiran was still that same person. Imani never wanted to feel this way again, but she’d let her guard down, trusted someone, loved them. He’d tricked her—and everyone—but after everything she gave of herself to him … the lies he told to her were astounding. His breed, his decade-long ploy against the throne … his lies about his heartmate—her. Massive, deep lies. Not even Imani could have pulled off the deception Kiran had. He had played his part so well, even privately in front of her, confusing her and everyone else with his act.

Maybe Imani had acted rashly, unfairly judging him, considering she’d lied about many things, too. But she couldn’t help feeling that Kiran had truly played her more than anyone else. Like a foolish idiot, she actually didn’t want to take advantage of him. She wanted to protect him, help him … She loved him … and hadn’t even known he was her heartmate. He had kept it from her, made her think he loved her back, tricked her into thinking he felt the same. He didn’t. He never had. He had only used their bond against her without her knowing.

It didn’t matter what she was to him—heartmate, friend, ally—his heart had long ago turned cold and dead, and all she represented was a means to an end for him.

The bitter truth of this hit her again, and the ghostly knife twisted painfully in her back.

Deep inside, he was the monster she’d always known was in there. They should never have called him the Mad Prince. He was the Serpent Prince through and through.

The Serpent King now.

And she would have to revert to her original plan to kill him.

Curling her hands into fists, Imani fought the waves of nerves turning over inside her. He had used and deceived her, but at least she had been smart enough to keep her biggest secrets from him. Thank the Saints she hadn’t admitted everything to him.

They were on level playing ground now.

“After all your lies, I’d never want to be anything to you, anyway,” Imani supplied thickly, breaking the silence.

The tic in his jaw pulsed and strained at her words. She wanted to scoff. He had the audacity to be angry at that statement when it was he who had thrown her away first?

Fuck him.

She flipped her hand, palm up, and pressed her wand into his sigil brand on her wrist. It disgusted her. With a small swipe, she cast a severing spell and ripped a clean circle into her skin. Then, with two fingers, she grabbed the piece of skin and tore it from her body.

The pain was exquisite, but she knew the flaying was meaningless when it came to heartmate brands. Kiran lived in her soul, not her skin.

“It would seem you finally fucked—I mean, slithered—your way to the very top, my darling.” Imani threw the flesh at him and turned toward the door. “You’ll get your wish, though—I won’t be an inconvenience any longer.”

After a blur of movement, he was in front of her, blocking her way. He gently grabbed her wrist and examined it. His brows knit together as he traced around the bleeding, open wound there. Despite her protests and firm tugs to get her arm back, he placed the skin back on her body then moved his hand over her wound. The skin healed quickly.

He pressed a kiss to her wrist. “You’re not inconvenient at all now that I’m king,” he whispered, rubbing small circles over their sigils. “I can do whatever I want. Things will just be a little different than they were.”

What a fucking liar.