3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
R ather than linger outside, Imani slipped silently through the front door. It was now or never.
Standing in the hallway, she let her cloak fall, revealing her raw form. She felt no inclination to hide anything except her illicit markings, which were easily concealed using the sleeves of her dress. This bastard would look upon her true face and see that she wasn’t plain or unremarkable any longer. For the first time in a long time, Imani was powerful, with magic coursing through her veins and a plan she’d spent weeks honing.
High-bred female elves, like Imani, possessing their own magical brands and formidable, natural soul draws, were rumored to be monsters of the worst kind. They could put anyone under a spell and procure anything they wanted from your mind or body. In that case, they were an abomination too dangerous to exist.
Having lived in the forest for part of her life, Imani knew it was exaggerated. Still, she hoped Malis didn’t. She hoped that seeing her like this would terrify him.
Imani approached the light flooding into the hallway from the room Malis stood in, still looking out the window with his back to her. A faint whisper murmured in her ear, sending chills down her spine. Shaking it off, she hardened her gaze at Malis. The sight of him made the blood heat in her veins.
The Niflheim merchant had stayed the same in the few weeks since their last encounter. Calloused and rough hands held a glass of dark whiskey, or scotch. His outfit appeared similar—the same black trousers and a light linen shirt untucked, with his dark jacket draped over a chair.
“I’ve been waiting for you, pretty little elf,” Malis said without bothering to turn around.
Steadying her breathing, Imani willed herself to be calm. The air around her body thrummed with energy, as if she might jump out of her skin.
“Hello, Malis,” she said, rolling Ara’s wand back and forth in her pocket, appreciating the comfort of its magical signature, despite not knowing exactly how to use it.
Setting the drink down on the desk, Malis turned to face her. “You’ve come to kill me,” he stated. Depthless eyes scanned her body like bugs crawling over her skin. His face could be considered handsome with his large brown eyes and high cheekbones, but Imani found him repulsive after what he’d done to her.
“I came for answers,” she said. “Why did you ask Fen for confiscated maps of Niflheim?”
“Ah … warming the constable’s bed, too, I see.” He narrowed his eyes to slits and ran his hand along the leather of the chair. “Your grandmother was guilty of every crime I accused her of before I turned her in. Not only did she steal those maps, but her list of crimes is far worse. Some of which would sicken you. She deserved to burn.”
She believed him. If her grandmother wanted something, she took it. Numerous things the woman had done made Imani sick.
A menacing glint reflected in his eyes as he continued, “Did they tell you Ara admitted to traveling to Niflheim? How she was in bed with the Illithiana royals and your so-called traitor Zolyn?”
Now, that statement she didn’t believe. “You lie.”
Travel between Essenheim and Niflheim was illegal. Procuring documents like maps for the journey would be treason of the worst kind, and if Ara was also involved with the witch Zolyn, then she was a clear traitor in the Crown’s eyes. It would risk everything Ara had built with their magic business. Not to mention Zolyn had been declared dead by Queen Dialora herself.
“Do I? You’ll notice the authorities spared your flat from an exhaustive search. They didn’t even call a master to break enchantments and wards. Why expend the resources when they had a mountain of proof, and the defendant had already confessed? Aralana hid some precious items in your flat, which I intend to take tonight.”
“Like you could ever prowl around our home. It’s far too protected. It’s why you asked Fen to retrieve them for you.” Imani itched to point the wand at him but held back. Although she had watched Ara cast spells every day and had read everything she could find about magic, she had never performed it in her life.
He shot her a withering look. “The wards fell away with Ara’s death, as did the spell over your magic.”
Imani dug her nails into her palms to stifle her gasp. How did he know about her magic? Oddly enough, he didn’t seem to care much. Malis didn’t want her dead for knowing about his illegal atrophic magic, as she’d initially thought. He wanted her grandmother’s secrets and Imani out of the way. How could she be so stupid as to forget about the wards? Saints, her siblings were home!
The pressure to kill him mounted, but she wanted to keep him talking for a bit longer to learn as much as she could. “I will only repeat myself once—I want answers tonight.”
“You’re mistaken about who’s in charge here, little elf.” Malis lifted a stack of papers from his desk. “I already have most of the maps, but I want the rest and the book she hid from the throne and Crown. It’s called A History of Royal Bloodlines , and it’s hundreds of years old. While not strictly on slips and doorways, it’s the only one of its kind.”
Holding something even mentioning stable and unstable portals to other realms would be tantamount to treason, and the monarchy of Essenheim, the Crown, would ensure such a person met Ara’s fate. It seemed the Throne, the monarchy of Niflheim, would do the same.
“Slips don’t exist,” she ground out, biting her tongue before she revealed anything else. Imani would go to her grave before she admitted that, years ago, gravity had distorted reality, forcing the ground to cleave itself open into a slip in front of her.
“Stable open doorways don’t, but slips do.” Malis paused. “And this is the only book I know of mentioning them both.”
Imani’s head spun with possibilities. Ara had believed beings in the other realms slinked around the sealed doorways, hunting for weaknesses, waiting, watching. If slips existed in more than a fleeting sense, dangers their world hadn’t seen in ten thousand years could be closer than anyone thought possible.
Malis’s voice slunk to a seductive murmur. Dizziness made her sway. “Have you seen the book, Imani?”
This was his compulsion magic at work, but unlike hers, it only worked on the physical body, not the mind. Her throat constricted as she tried to fight the urge to answer him. While the one tattered book she’d found inside the trunk had nothing to do with royal bloodlines or slips, there were dozens of hidden compartments she hadn’t been able to search yet.
“I don’t answer to an exiled beast like you,” Imani managed to bite out as control of the situation slipped from her.
His stocky frame crowded her. He looked only a few years older than her, but different people aged at different rates. She had no idea his breed.
She stepped back, hitting another chair as he snarled in her face, “I’m not as exiled as you might think. Who do you think smuggled Ara back and forth? His Dark Highness briefly expressed his irritation with me when he learned the authorities had caught and killed Ara at my behest.” Malis motioned to several fading bruises marring his neck. “But she’s replaceable. The prince and I have come to a new arrangement.”
“I would have paid to see this Niflheim prince choke you to death,” Imani seethed.
He laughed. “Too bad the two of you will never meet in this realm. I’d like to watch him eat you alive.” He cocked his head. “Did you think you’d slip into your grandmother’s role so easily? I may not have particularly liked her, but the woman was a force to be reckoned with, and you … are not. A rival coven, like Asim’s, will not let you work here unchallenged. You and your sister are no match for him.”
Imani bristled. “We’ve owned the magic business in this area of the Riverlands for nearly two decades. The Aowyns have a claim to any spells bought or sold south of the River Meechan, and we’re the strongest witches in the tri-territory area. Only the Nedalis have as much magic as us, and I can deal with that family alone.” She fixed a stony glare on Malis. “Besides, if you think I won’t kill Asim, you don’t know me at all.”
In truth, she would do no such thing. Going around killing people was terrible for business. The Aowyn family didn’t murder often, but when they did, it was with meticulous planning and reason. She didn’t need to kill him. She only needed to make Asim more afraid to cross her than anyone else.
But Malis? He was too dangerous to keep alive.
He scoffed. “You’re alone with two young elves at home, and everyone who deals in magic around here knows you’re weak.”
Imani ignored the flare of anxiety in her chest, flexing her fingers slightly. “People challenged Ara up until the day she died. It might wane for a few years, but it will never end because everyone in this business is a threat.” Her voice dropped lower. “I came here for answers tonight, and if I don’t get them right now, so help me saints, the shipbuilder Ara beat to death last year will look merciful.”
The wicked male cocked a brow at her. “While the prince demanded your sister tonight, I don’t think he’ll mind if I change plans. Even with the horrendous mark marring your face, you’re a superior physical representation of a Norn elf and far more powerful. And unlike her, you came to me.”
Imani’s mind spun. What had he planned to do with Meira? How long had he known Imani was plotting against him? Her advantages quickly eroded as he backed her further into a corner. How could she have been so na?ve as to think she could take this man on?
She clutched the wand tighter as a whisper urged her to call on her magic. Her breathing picked up as her eyes darted around the room for another solution, a distraction—anything.
“Why didn’t your strange compulsion magic work on my grandmother when she attacked you in the shop?”
“I have no idea why it didn’t work on her,” he said. “Your grandmother held more secrets than anyone I’ve ever known.”
“I should have told them your secret and let the Crown kill you for still wielding your magic. I should have told everyone you can still cast your atrophic magic, even without your brands.” Her voice trembled as the murmuring to use her magic grew louder in her ears.
“You wouldn’t have said anything.” He smiled, deadly and smug. “You wanted your grandmother dead almost as much as I did.”
“Who knows? Maybe they would have killed you both for your crimes,” she said coolly.
“Doubtful. Without proof, it would have been my word against yours. And besides, it’s natural magic like your soul draw. It’s part of who I am.”
She swallowed hard. His breed possessed compulsion magic, just like hers.
She clenched her jaw, desperate to keep him talking. “You’re a Niflheim subject living in Essenheim. They stripped you of your magic, yet you cast some enchantment magic against her that day. What is your breed?”
“When I sought refuge, the Essenheim queen may have personally flayed my skin to the bone,” Malis said as he ripped his sleeve back. His arm, covered in grotesque, rough skin, made her shudder. “But there are ways around flaying.” A wand appeared in his hand, and a soft, trilling sound from his chest filled the room. “Now, down on your knees,” he said in a voice not his own.
With the element of surprise gone and the threat of his magic even worse than she had anticipated, her plan continued unraveling.
No. It wasn’t over yet.
Some sort of roiling began beneath Imani’s skin, like water about to boil over. With her life on the line, she made a snap decision.
An unhinged cry ripped from her throat as she pointed the wand at him.
The fire went out.