Page 58 of The Serpent Prince

“I can live with that,” Kiran said offhandedly, as if they’d just been discussing the weather.

Imani took out his wand and threw it at his head. He reached his arms up to block it at the last minute. “Maybe you should take better care of your things—or risk losing them, you bastard.”

Imani wrapped the sheet around her tighter then shoved past the other Norn elf while carrying her ruined nightgown and wand.

CHAPTER 21

After leaving the Drow elves, with several books she had “borrowed” from them, Imani, along with the other emissaries, were on their way to another territory. Which one, Imani didn’t know. When she asked Esa, all the pixie did was just shrug, which was an odd response from her.

The two hadn’t exchanged more than two words, and Imani wondered what could have the pixie so … detached.

Imani felt detached, too. If she didn’t, the anger simmering underneath her skin would explode into a mass of shadows. She wished she could push the humiliating feelings from the other night away, but it was no use—her mind played the scene on repeat.

Now that the company had stopped, Imani stepped outside for fresh air. Ravens cawed in the branches above them, their screeches piercing the storm. They seemed agitated at the traveling company’s approach, swooping lower around them. Imani held up her arms to shield herself as they swept overhead. The birds seemed oddly large, their eyes silver. They creeped her out. One almost grazed Imani’s head, and she wondered if it was Ren.

Saints, she hated birds.

She scurried to take cover under another tree farther into the forest, where she could truly be alone. Its bark was old and scratchy, and she ran her fingers up and down the craggy wood, wondering if this was what the Drasil would feel like.

Footsteps behind her forced her to whirl around.

Kiran approached, wearing a long jacket and a tunic tucked into riding pants—all black. The color had returned to his face, and he looked healthier than he had in weeks. She almost smiled to herself because she knew why—not that his blood burning addiction was anything to be happy about, but being one of Kiran’s secrets felt divine.

Imani forced her face into a blank expression. She stood tall and stared directly into his eyes. “What do you want? Have you come to apologize for the other night?” Even her voice sounded cold—Imani wished it sounded colder.

The prince gripped his wand in one hand, held her stare, then threw his head back and laughed maniacally. “Apologize? Please.” He clenched and unclenched his other fist a few times, his only tell of fidgeting Imani could see. “You know I’m not here to apologize, Imani. I’m here to recast the echo shield. You need it to cover your brands, especially where we are going.”

“And where is it you and I are going now?”

“We aren’t going anywhere—you are going to the sirens with Zadie. I’ll ride ahead and meet you there.” He sighed. “My father has me using my magic to find out information about them.”

“What makes these sirens worthy of such a deed by the First Witch?”

Kiran ran his hand up and down the same place on the tree that she had. “There’s no deed too low for me to do for my father.”

Imani couldn’t help but wonder what inspired such loyalty in him. Magnus was cruel, and she’d never known Kiran to allow people to treat him that way, except his father.

He continued, “There’s been uprisings against the throne across the territories. Saevel, my father, and I all agree that it’s probably our brother Respen, but we have no proof. No one has seen him, not even a glimpse, in a year. The sirens are more loyal than the elves, but there’s been discord reported amongst them. We think Respen is gathering people from across the territories to rise up against our father.”

“Surely, that would be foolish on his part,” Imani said.

“Not necessarily. If he could gather enough people, they would overwhelm our forces. My father is not a well-liked leader, hence the reason for our little emissary group here. He has a clear bias toward shifters and hasn’t made it a secret that he feels other breeds are inferior. He has us control magic like you’ve never seen, and while we have a formidable standing army, most of which are shifters immune to magic, it’s not impossible for them to defeat us. These breeds … the Drow elves, and the sirens, and others … they have powers of their own, and my brother is cunning. He’s skilled in the ways of war and a charismatic leader. You’d know what I mean if you ever met him.”

Something about Kiran’s voice made her believe him. He was confiding in her, and she had no idea why.

Despite the vitality that had returned to him, he seemed exhausted. Before Imani could stop herself, she was reaching her hand up to cup his cheek. He shut his eyes.

“I hate you most days, mostly because you are righteously cunning, not to mention a complete bastard. So, if anyone can take your brother on, it’s you. Saevel knows it. Your father knows it, too … It’s why they’ve asked you to do this task.”

He almost smiled. Instead, he removed her hand and kissed her palm. She stared at him in open-mouthed shock at the gesture.

“It’s not why they’ve asked me to do this task, but I appreciate the sentiment. Things between my father and I are … complicated. I’m not sure anyone would ever understand.”

Imani’s ears flicked back and forth. What could Magnus have on Kiran that would force his hand so much? Maybe he was right, and she wouldn’t ever understand their relationship, but she’d bet her left arm Magnus had a way of controlling Kiran—another weakness she intended to learn about.

Still holding her hand, he raised his wand in question. “Let me cast the shield before I go.”

Imani shook her head. “No, I’m sick of relying on other people for my protection. I’ll cast another flesh magic spell of my own, it should hold for at least a few months.”