28. Chapter 28
Chapter 28
S omeone shook Imani awake.
“Wake up,” Tanyl muttered. “You’re coming with me.”
Imani lifted her head, bleary eyes unfocused on the ancient stone walls. “Why?”
“Get dressed,” he said, tossing her clothes at her.
Anxiety churned in her stomach as she put on her dress and reached for her heeled boots. He said nothing while she laced them up. Once she finished, he grabbed her arm and dragged her down the hallway, a dourness marring his handsome face.
“Tanyl? What’s going on?” He’d never handled her with such roughness. A lump formed in her throat. Did he know about her alliance with Kiran?
After the close call a few nights ago, it was all she could do to keep herself from trembling at the thought. Paranoia was driving her mad.
With his gaze hard and fixed ahead, Tanyl steered them outside the servants’ entrance. He dumped Imani in a waiting coach, climbed in the other side, and then they made their way to the bottom of the hill, to the larger square. Fog hung low over the crowd, which wasn’t uncommon in the capital.
Tanyl escorted her from the coach like a gentleman, leaving her hand cold. This morning, a soft plume of smoke mingled with the white haze.
Tanyl remained stone-faced as he placed his hand on the small of her back and helped her to a raised platform. Other nobles, including a few high sentinels, stood and sat around the queen, but none of them spared her or the prince a glance.
Imani cast a cold eye over the monarch, who sat like a cat who had gotten the cream on her throne.
“Why are we here?” Imani asked under her breath.
The Essenheim heir didn’t answer.
Annoyed, she stole a look his way. His furious eyes were fixed on the pyre, a familiar wood pile to her. Executions occurred occasionally, but this was different, and Tanyl had brought her for a reason. It was the first time they’d been seen in public together. Why would he take the risk?
Drizzle began to fall from the thick clouds above, and a breeze born over the dark depths of the Neshuin Sea rolled in, slanting the rain like pinpricks into her skin.
Tanyl’s hand went to her back again, and he raised the hood of her cloak over her head to protect her. As the heir, he had the right to sit under the canopy. Unfortunately, it meant enduring the wretched queen, and Tanyl held similar sentiments as her. In fact, his revulsion for his mother seemed to grow daily, and right now, both preferred the rain when the alternative meant sitting by Dialora.
Peripherally, Tanyl stiffened at what was about to happen below.
Royal guards escorted a figure to the front, and the moment froze for Imani as she mastered her shock at the scene unfolding in front of her. An eternity passed between each heartbeat when they peeled back the cowl of the prisoner.
Tanyl’s breath came faster now, hissing through his teeth as he white-knuckled the wood before them.
Imani’s stomach lurched, and she slammed her eyes closed. Spots of darkness and light flashed behind her eyelids.
No. This couldn’t be happening. Eyes still closed, she stood closer to the prince, holding on tighter to the railing, knowing she might fly over it and into the crowd to stop this madness if she didn’t. But, if she did, she’d only be executed alongside him.
Imani forced her eyes open. She would take in every second of this, even if her insides seized and her heart gave out.
Master Selhey stood, ready to burn to death, with a blank expression.
He hadn’t been to their lessons for several days, but Imani, too distracted by the assessments and her research, had thought little of it.
As the executioner announced the crimes, Imani shook with all the emotions she hadn’t experienced at the last burning. Because Aralana had deserved death; her master did not. Indeed, Imani liked Master Selhey. Quite a bit more than most people in her life. He’d been kind and helpful to her since arriving in Stralas and, as elves, they had a kinship with each other.
The queen stood with a delicate, raised hand and quieted the throng of bloodthirsty onlookers. Tanyl joined her at the edge of the platform.
“This witch is accused of using violent magic, causing the recent ground quake, and he has been found guilty. But, unlike our neighbors to the south, we have protected our lands from the destruction of magic by swiftly punishing those who seek to break the law. Dangerous magic and the witches who wield it are enemies we must root out and destroy. As your queen and protector, with my heir by my side, we will show them no mercy.”
Tanyl nodded woodenly, and the crowd cheered.
Imani’s hand curled into a ball as she imagined it punching the queen’s face. She knew exactly what was happening here—Master Selhey’s only crime was standing up for the truth about magic.
Among the shouts and jeers, the fire burned below. But, unlike Ara, Master Selhey didn’t stay silent.
When he began to burn, the male wood elf let out a howl, chilling her worse than the frigid rain pelting her face. He’d never even raised his voice, let alone sounded so anguished. It rattled in her bones. With horror raging inside her, Imani hugged herself.
Soon, his entire body went up in flames. Black smoke from his body lifted into the wind. Ashes danced onto the flagstones.
The queen’s eyes glowed, reflecting the firelight, and all the while, Imani’s teacher—her friend—burned alive.
Like a snap of frigid wind, Dialora’s gaze shifted, and her piercing eyes bore into Tanyl and Imani with a warning—a warning for the only other people who had questioned her recently.
While the crowd thinned, Imani stood frozen. She stayed until they doused the smoldering flames and cleared away the remains. Flesh hung from the bones, charred and black, but the rest of his features—twisted in horror as they were—were entirely distinguishable, at least to her.
The spirit lingered above the square, and for a moment, it recognized her. But she was not inclined to feed off Master Selhey’s soul, and so it disappeared.
With her second assessment looming, Tanyl and Imani stayed silent in the coach on the long meandering way up to the palace. Her muscles permanently tensed, unable to unfurl from attack mode. Everything burned—Imani’s chest, her muscles, her skin.
Folding her arms across her chest, Imani hit the prince with a knowing look. “So, the rumors about her opinion of you are true?”
Shouts from the streets below and the sounds from the horses drifted into the coach as they both stared at each other.
“Indeed. My position as heir apparent is precarious at best these days.” Tanyl leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “She’s been quietly planning for me not to inherit while keeping me prepared for appearance’s sake.”
“You’ve also been playing both sides,” Imani probed, hoping for some intel.
He quirked a brow but didn’t respond directly. “Time is running out. You’ve seen Niflheim’s power firsthand, and it’s only multiplying.”
“Even if the royals are immune, we can find a way to use magic to overpower their army.”
“It used to be true. Not only are they taking out a chunk of our best magic wielders with their assessments, but they’ve been breeding the immunity into their ranks for the past hundred years. They use this army to control their magical population, but they will also be used against us when the time comes.” He lowered his voice. “We won’t be able to use our magical army as effectively against the immune shifters. We need help.”
“Do the rest of their breeds possess as much magic as ours?”
“No, but as you know, it’s atrophic magic—far more deadly.” He laughed with derision.
“I’m going to be blunt and ask for the truth, Tanyl. Rumors say the prince is a twelve-mark. Is he?”
“You’re referring to Kiran? Such a serpentine bastard …” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It’s highly likely since his father made him First Witch, despite despising his youngest.”
“He wanted a female elf.”
“Correct. Magnus would have much preferred a daughter with a powerful soul draw he could use or another high-bred shifter since he believes magic is beneath him. Anyone using magic over physical strength is lazy and unworthy, and he propagates an anti-magic culture. How powerful Kiran is will never matter because the king and Saevel use their shifted forms to keep him on a tight leash.”
“The king sounds like a savage.”
“He’s a proficient, master level witch and the strongest shifter in existence.”
“Why haven’t they attacked us, then?”
Tanyl shrugged. “We aren’t sure. The Throne grapples with a struggling economy and uprisings. His subjects almost succeeded in assassinating him a few times.”
“But we’re weak and exposed,” Imani muttered. A twinge of guilt surfaced over betraying Tanyl in her impossible agreement with Kiran.
“I couldn’t agree more. However, our magic is far more stable—one of the reasons the assessments were designed to take out our most powerful witches. They must expend far more resources and effort to maintain control of their magic. Keeping borders secure and people safe is far harder in Niflheim. It’s a constant battle to fight the breaches from sealed doorways, slips turning into rifts, and the like.”
“How can they possibly control those events?”
“The First Witch uses their Order to highly regulate the use of magic.”
“Kiran,” she finished for him.
He nodded. “The king was smart to name him First Witch. While he doesn’t like his son, he knows Kiran is more useful alive than dead.”
“Besides controlling their magic, he wants Kiran to breed a high-bred female elf for an alliance with their elves.”
“I’ve heard the same,” Tanyl confirmed. “Their drow elves are the most magically powerful in Niflheim, and they are the Throne’s biggest civil threat. My guess is Magnus needs to find a way to ally with them before starting a war with us.”
“Why couldn’t he marry Kiran off for an alliance?”
“Their female elves are as rare as ours, and none of the powerful elven families have one to offer the king. A high-bred royal female would be enticing enough for the elves to come to an agreement with Magnus.”
“Breeding him? Gods, the king sounds like a bastard,” Imani said, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Kiran isn’t much better. He’s a self-interested prick who will find every secret, every weakness, and any opening for him to exploit. I’m pretty sure he has leverage on most of the nobles in Niflheim, and if anyone can keep their rebellions in check, it’s Kiran. Plus, he controls his magic wielders like slaves,” he muttered. “They forbid even simple spells without the right permissions, restrictions, and permits, and making money from magic is taxed beyond belief. Kiran is the first archmage witch the royal family has produced in a century?—”
“You’re joking?” Imani couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice, but she bit her lip, knowing he had to be a twelve-mark now.
“I wish. Kiran’s so obsessed with being accepted by his father that he takes any scraps he can from him, and no magic—and I mean none —happens in the kingdom without Kiran knowing about it. The Serpent can’t help but meddle, and somehow, Kiran engineered a massive web of ingenious detections, practically built into the Fabric itself. Maybe it is. It’s like nothing we’ve ever seen. Massive enchantments, defensive spells, wards, and manual detection, too, through a network of spies, informants, and enforcement troops. We think it covers the entire kingdom.”
“He truly is mad.”
Tanyl let out a derisive laugh. “And to think, you’ve barely seen the real him here. But he’s sane where it counts. That slippery elf is a formidable, brilliant witch, not to mention a conniving nasty piece of work like the rest of his brothers.”
Horror crept up her spine as she thought about how easily Kiran had killed the naiad nymphs, how they must treat their people, and how Essenheim could not stand against them. “They can’t be that powerful compared to our magic.” Her kingdom held the power of the Fabric, whereas they did not—the Niflheim Kingdom never compared to their magical power.
“Meira, I’m telling you the truth. They are. They will be formidable once they get a handle on their internal problems.”
“You understand the snake better than anyone I’ve talked to about him.”
“I’ve made it my business to learn as much as possible about all the Illithiana brothers.” He paused. “A reminder: the Serpent can blend in and strike when the time is right.”
Imani let the words sink in. She had resisted believing it, but now it was all but a certainty. At some point, Niflheim was going to attack Essenheim, and they would probably win.
They needed the Drasil.
“And that’s not all. There will be a regime change soon. Magnus won’t live much longer. His sons are circling the Throne like vultures.”
It had been decades since the last power transfer, but Tanyl was suspiciously sure of his assertion. It reinforced her theory about Tanyl’s plans with his mother.
“When he dies, she follows,” Imani stated.
“Yes, but my mother won’t relinquish power without a fight. She might have something planned … The Crown is easy to put on and hard to remove.” He sighed. “We might have a few months, at most, when it happens. History tells us it usually takes a season. The moon’s phases might control it. We don’t know.” He sat back and crossed his arms, glaring at no one in particular. “We need the Drasil.”
A wave of frustration nearly blinded her, especially since she had thought the same only moments before. “You don’t think I know the advantage the Drasil will give us? You think I don’t know my role in this relationship? Trust me; I’m clear on my role.”
He stared vacantly, as if deciding his following words. “That’s not all you are to me,” he said softly. “I see how you act around the rest of the Court and the other apprentices. You have a fierce heart and choose your real friends wisely. You listen more than you talk. You’re always watching and thinking. I can see the clever mind working in your pretty little head, and you adapt flawlessly. I could take you to a high council dinner or a gambling hall on Kesen, and you’d fit right in.” He turned to her and canted his head to the side, studying. “But most of all, you have a shrewd ability to get what you want.”
He was surprisingly accurate. No one had ever said anything like that to Imani before, and it made her feel seen for the first time ever.
“I’m trying to say you’re not like the other courtiers or witches here, and I like having you by my side.”
She didn’t know what to say to that admission.
He sighed. “I have you in my bed, but I know I’ll have to work harder to earn your trust. I don’t expect you to believe me right now. I probably wouldn’t if I were you,” he added. “But my mother is in a precarious position, and when her reign comes to an end—which I know for a fact will be soon, whether Magnus lives or dies—I hope, by then, it’ll be easier for you and me to be a team. Something feels right about us. I can’t explain it, but I listen to my instincts.”
Imani let herself imagine what being by Tanyl’s side as queen consort would be like for a moment. She liked it. She liked it too much. But it was a foolish dream if she couldn’t survive the second assessment and learn more about the third.
“Don’t put too much stock in it. I’ll probably be dead then,” she said thickly, a lump forming in her throat.
Tanyl reached for her face. “You will live. I know it. And when I am king, I will find a way to bring you home, I swear.” He brushed his rough thumbs over her cheeks. “In the meantime, you know you are the only one going down there I even remotely trust.”
Guilt tore at her insides. Gaining some of the prince’s trust was no small thing, and she was playing him behind his back. Yet, what he implied momentarily shocked her.
“I’ll be caught,” she whispered.
“They won’t suspect a thing, my beautiful little spy,” he said, a dangerous possessiveness layered in his voice. Maybe a command.
Silence fell as she mulled over his words. What a mess she had found herself in. Bound to this untested young prince on the brink of committing matricide while betraying her whole kingdom and under the thumb of his cunning, dangerous enemy.
But she wasn’t a victim. While both princes controlled her, she had made the choice and still had one here.
“I’m not even a master witch yet, Tanyl,” she whispered. “They won’t let me near anything important.” And if they caught her? Well, she didn’t think the Illithianas treated spies mercifully.
He gave her a boyish half-smile. “You could have access to anything you wanted if you put your mind to it.”
It would never matter if she were a master or not. Her value came from her precious elf cunt, not her intelligence or magic skills. She’d always known this happened to vulnerable female elves—people used them for their own means—but she never thought she’d be one of them. Ara had warned her this would happen, too. She kept proving she was always right.
Still, despite his blatant manipulation, she needed to take this offer seriously. She couldn’t outright deny her prince and future monarch. Besides, despite it all, she was starting to consider Tanyl a friend.
“Let’s revisit this if I survive,” she said evasively. “I’ll have two conflicting bindings to deal with then, both resulting in debilitating pain, if not death. I’m a high-bred witch and female elf, Tanyl, but not much else.”
“You know you’re more.” He studied her through hooded eyes. “Once I’m king, I will fix the mistakes she made with this shameful treaty. We’ll need master witches like you at home in Essenheim, and I will not give up on getting you and the others back.” He grabbed her hand and kissed her wrist.
She gave him a small smile but spent the rest of the ride trying to sort through her thoughts. She was relatively sure Tanyl did care about her and his witches and wanted to keep them safe. Maybe a part of him did feel something for her, too. Maybe he really did have plans for their future.
But the moment he stepped out of the carriage, it was as if she were a stranger. He exited normally then had the driver bring her around the back end to the servants’ entrance. Whispers and rumors would start immediately if she’d exited with him. It angered her to be considered his dirty secret again. Once his mother died, would things change?
Despite agreeing with the queen that he had no real backbone for truly ruling, Tanyl understood exactly how politics worked at court. He’d planned for their little entrance—for her to be seen as nothing despite her feeling something real from him.
Indeed, he was full of plans, like Saevel had said.
Tanyl appeared to be more of a player in this game than she’d assumed.