29. Chapter 29
Chapter 29
M ere hours later, Imani stood outside with the others for the second assessment. A biting cold evening wind from the Neshuin Sea whipped through the courtyard where they stood, waiting for the princes.
When she’d left her chambers earlier, light black veins had pulsed up her hands and arms. She’d pulled her sleeves down to cover them. It worried her how much her dark atrophic magic—her shadows—pushed for freedom right now.
Master Selhey’s execution had done what Ara’s hadn’t—anger and grief feverishly pumped through her. She was tinder, ready to ignite. Despite the constant wall of control she had brought up around her magic, she stood in the frigid gardens, clenching and unclenching her hands, struggling to keep her signature as contained as possible. Whispers flicked her ears back and forth, and her magic purred in her blood.
Unlike the rest, she knew what was about to happen.
People hushed and parted when the Niflheim royals strode into the crowd. Their advisers and master witches trailed close behind, including the female high naiad witch from the other night. They ascended the viewing platform.
Imani bristled at their relaxed demeanors and luxurious setup. All of them planned to watch this assessment like bloody entertainment. Too many innocent Essenheim master witches had died in the past few days, weakening their kingdom further, and she was fresh out of patience for the slaughter of her fellow magic wielders.
Saevel laughed at something Kiran had said. He smiled in return. The sight made her practically gag. Sweat covered her back as she forced herself to observe their every move.
The princes stood up to address those gathered.
More massive than any other male, Saevel didn’t hide one inch of himself. Like his shifted beast form, Prince Saevel’s presence overpowered the space around him. Yet his expressive green eyes continued to hold intelligence, hinting at a far more complex man than some animal.
Unlike his brother, Kiran hid well. His jacket, elegantly fitted in his usual black, indicated a lean yet strong body beneath. It fit his muscular shoulders perfectly. Holding his wand at his side, the younger prince appeared lazy as he scanned the crowd. He nearly smiled, an entertained little grin begging to be set free in both corners of his mouth.
Everything about Kiran felt wrong, and yet, so much about him intrigued her. He’d easily be the most fearsome yet exquisite creature anywhere he went, if not for the illusion he constantly wore to mute his soul draw and give the impression of mediocrity. It disguised a beautiful menace she didn’t understand.
“The first assessment tested your willingness to obey execution orders without question,” Saevel said. “The second will test your ability to fight for us in battle. Today, we’ll see your ability to survive in the chaos while proving your loyalty to your new kingdom by killing your brethren.”
His words hung in the air, emotionless and final, with a heavy silence falling. People shifted their feet and glanced around, wondering who was living their last hours in this world.
“Well, well, well. No objections?” Kiran taunted them with a dazzling grin. While it was undeniably beautiful, his mismatched eyes held a haunted viciousness that spoke of imbalance. They pierced through the participants wildly while he stared head-on, daring anyone to return his gaze.
Many averted their eyes, but Imani wouldn’t shy away—she stared right back. What precisely did those endless black depths house?
A troubling sensation lit up inside her again. Barely there, it gently pulsed deep inside her. A desire that wouldn’t abate—a constant yearning skittering below her skin. She pushed it away, determined to resist any thrall Kiran attempted to put on her.
Not waiting for a response before jumping off the platform, he prowled forward into them, intent on gleeful harassment. “Any noble objections? Does anyone want to die for their kingdom before we start? Speak up. I want to kill someone,” he shouted with dark laughter, bounding further into the crowd. Barely breathing, the witches only observed. He pointed at a slender nymph. “You? Hmm?”
She trembled under his gaze, whimpering.
He rolled his eyes. “No? Fine, you’ll be dead two minutes after we start, anyway.”
He was probably right.
Lunging in a blur toward an older shifter, Kiran got in his face, making the man flinch. He bared his teeth, two slightly longer than others—fangs like most elves had. Imani’s were minuscule in comparison.
“How about you?” Tilting his head to assess the shifter, Kiran barely waited a minute before grabbing another man by the shoulder, throwing him roughly to the ground with a manic expression. Laughing to himself, he pointed his wand at the man’s chest. “You?”
The man shut his eyes in fear.
“I might kill you now for being such a pathetic coward.” Kiran cast a spell, making the man writhe in the dirt, then stalked forward to leer at more people.
He was more unhinged than she’d seen before—terrorizing people at random. He cornered another two witches, tossing one to the ground. A nervous tension permeated the space.
“Anyone? Is anyone brave enough to take me? Come on!” Spreading his arms wide and snarling, he waited.
None came.
But Imani was highly close to volunteering. Indeed, she practically trembled now with a commanding urge to strip him down to his bones and destroy the sneer on his face. Now that they were acquainted, some sick part of her wanted to tug at the layers of magic coating him to reveal the real Kiran. Why did he make her react this way?
Her emotions were running high. One minute, she wanted to punish him for this melee—for killing more witches—and the next, she wanted to get inside him, pick his brain, stand close, be near him, and lean into his touch.
He made her feel crazy with his many facets drawing her to him. But she wouldn’t give in. She would keep her head down, pass this assessment, and focus on the next one. This was a distraction.
Without moving an inch, the inky darkness permeating her signature briefly rattled its prison to flare out at Kiran in response to his call—his threat. Before she could stop it, her veins darkened further.
In the deathly quiet, all heads snapped to her immediately, including Kiran’s.
Tilting his head, Kiran let her see his sharp teeth. A strange, purr-like rumble came from his chest, and his green eye glimmered. He would have relished it if she tried to break through her own self-imposed prison by challenging him here. The prince had purposely pulled on her magic signature to create a scene, goading her and enjoying it.
Shocked by her loss of control, a quiet yet furious growl escaped her throat, wordlessly expressing her displeasure at his audacity.
He grinned, absolutely delighted.
The image of Kiran’s inner beast filled her mind. Terror ran up her spine, and her stomach dropped seeing his perfect smile.
What am I doing? This male elf possessed a lethal power that promised death, and she would not be dying today, if she could help it.
Embarrassment heating her skin, she tore every bit of her magic back inside with surprising strength before bowing her head in submission. All the veins had cleared. She prayed they would remain clear, and the prince would shove off.
Today was not the day she’d lose control, no matter how badly Kiran wanted to see it. No matter how badly she wanted to show him what she could do.
Kiran’s chuckling broke the tension like thunder announcing an incoming storm. He braced his hands on his knees, laughing like a man possessed. “Great news, brother.” He stood while clapping his hands at the witches. “Any noble or stupid Essenheim witches are dead or will be soon, those cowards. The rest are exactly like us.” He swept his wand wide above his head.
A burst of Kiran’s magic spread across the visible sky. Effortlessly, like breathing, he cast forth vast swaths of invisible wards. Like the first assessment, they were jaw-dropping in their strength as they wove and melded together, rippling the air. The energy thundered in her chest. The magic stilled, locking them all in his mighty, impenetrable fortress again.
He made his way back to his brother, cackling to himself.
People gave him a wide berth, averting their eyes when he strode past. All noise ceased. Unease coiled tighter inside her when she didn’t even hear the damn birds chirping. The Prince of Snakes had made his point and squashed all hope of rebellion. Those who remained would either be too weak to live or pragmatic enough to serve the Niflheim Kingdom.
Moments later, the sun dipped below the horizon. The mood among the Essenheim witches changed from tense to downright unbearable.
All manner of nymphs, shifters, and pixies stood around her. The two male Norn elves were still alive, and Esa stood alone near her people, wings fluttering. Most of the remaining witches were probably far more adaptable to physical magic than her, but she’d been putting a strategy together the past day.
Melees, as an assessment, were nothing more than a barbaric blood bath, in her opinion. Like executions, combat, or other tests featuring death and brutality, their Order had stopped using melees hundreds of years ago. People still died during ascension assessments, but it had become far less common. Or so she assumed.
Both princes stood next to each other at the front.
Saevel raised his hands. “It’s time.” He paused for effect. “My brother tells me only the most cowardly or savage witches of this kingdom remain.”
Kiran flipped out his wand again, playing with it in his hand before pointing it threateningly at them all, a serpentine smile spreading across his face. “Indeed, brother, and by the end, we’ll only go home with the savages.”
“Good,” the Niflheim heir boomed. “Now, a reminder of the rules. There are two hundred of you. The melee ends when a hundred are dead. So, each of you must kill at least once.”
“No exceptions,” Kiran added, “or you’ll be executed.”
Lifting her chin, Imani’s eyes took in the stars. The Fabric’s lights danced, and the torches’ amber glow lit the courtyard.
Jerking her head from the peaceful sky, Saevel’s hand signaled the start. Before she could drop into a fighting stance, Prince Kiran raised his wand, and fire shot down the middle of the courtyard. Bursting forth into the darkness, Kiran’s ropes of flames spun and twisted around the courtyard, herding them in like cattle in a field.
The flames were a mile of pure power from the Fabric, separating and coiling themselves into suspended rings of heat and ash, like floating funeral pyres taunting those within its clutches. A wall around them exploded upward in one whoosh of movement, almost reaching the palace rooftops. It hemmed them into the courtyard, bordered by the gardens to the southside and the cliffs to the sea to the north. Finally, they stopped. Raging columns of infernos towered tall and stood in severe warning to the helpless, trapped witches.
Kiran took in Imani’s reaction with great interest, but she pointedly ignored him.
Beyond the crackling sound of the fire, people screamed. Some screamed in fear, some in bloodlust. The world moved in slow motion.
Cracking her neck, Imani tried to stay calm despite her heart pounding like a war drum.
One of the male Norn ducked to avoid two errant spells and charged for her.
Her hand tightened. There wasn’t time to ask what the elf was doing, but fear didn’t even register as he attacked. A Norn wouldn’t hurt her.
Seconds later, he threw her to the ground. “Do it as fast as the first assessment,” he grunted as she lashed at his chest. He dodged and moved to attack her again.
“I don’t want to kill you,” she said, drawing out her wand.
Imani could hold her own against him, but if any elf had magic, they were powerful and well-trained by the master witches in the Draswood. Yet, he appeared intent on losing.
Admiration threatened to choke her as she rolled out of his feigned kick.
“You don’t have to do this for me,” she whispered.
Sadness shone in his eyes. It made Imani angry, although not at him. With a feral cry, she slashed for one of his ankles, but he deftly stepped aside like she knew he would.
“Let me fight you for real,” she shot back. Winding up for a hard left hook, she swung.
The elf caught her fist in his mighty grip, and she screamed in response, kicking him in the chin. His neck snapped back, pale eyes glimmering with surprise.
“You don’t need to protect me,” Imani repeated.
“You know the power you can wield. If you survive the assessments, you’ll be one of the only witches in a position to do something.”
“Spoken like a true man who only sees value in one thing,” Imani growled as they both faked a punch and a block. “I’m not as powerful as you think I am.”
“Prince Kiran hasn’t stopped staring at you since we began. You intrigue him,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “Now, that’s power.”
The weight of the prince watching fell on Imani’s back. She didn’t need to turn but did, anyway, involuntarily seeking Kiran. Her eyes found his. Imani stared, feeling something heavy and uncomfortable in her chest.
Unflinching, Kiran’s expression appeared unreadable. But when the male Norn grabbed her wrists from behind and slammed her chest into a nearby tree, the prince stood and clutched the railing in a vise-like grip.
“You’re seeing what you want to see,” Imani hissed over her shoulder. “It means nothing.” Kiran didn’t want her to die. He needed his pet to live to “continue providing value,” as he had so crassly stated during their first meeting.
“Possibly.” The elf gripped her wrists but let her twist away.
He didn’t believe her, but this conversation was over. Kiran watched them too closely.
“Take out your wand and attack me for real. Kiran will never believe this farce,” she said through gritted teeth before slamming her elbow into his face. The elf held his bloody nose, muttering a string of elvish curse words. But a second later, he drew his wand, and a blast of magic froze her limbs. Imani fell hard into the tree.
Now, this was getting serious.
Imani and the elf pretended to try to kill each other for several minutes. Her magic in combat had improved not only from assessment training but also from when she worked with Esa. She’d been practicing independently, every waking minute she wasn’t searching for the Drasil. Her enchantments and illusions were two brands with some advantages while fighting against another witch.
Eventually, he gave her a minuscule nod.
Tension tightened her muscles. The crushing reality of what the elf wanted her to do made her heart pound. She had no problems with this man and did not want to kill a fellow Norn. The dread of such an act weighed heavily on her.
He nodded again, glaring at her. But still, she didn’t move. There had to be another way.
A loud screeching tore her attention away from the male Norn, and the sights and sounds from the melee reminded her that she was in the middle of a bloodbath. Imani wanted to live through the night and all the nights ahead. She still had a lot to do in this realm, and looking around, she didn’t think she’d last long without help.
With a resigned deep breath, Imani accepted his sacrifice. She took the opening he gave her and cast a now familiar spell.
The same severing enchantment from the first assessment forced his head clean off. It rolled unceremoniously across her feet. Hot, sticky blood sprayed onto her chest and face. Smearing it out of her eyes, she leaned against the tree, panting. Another master elf dead—this one at her hands.
From the center of the melee, gnashing teeth, growls, and spells rang through the air while dozens of witches fought for their lives. Mere yards away, the bodies of fallen witches—mainly sprite pixies and leimoniad nymphs—twitched. Between shouts of pain and blood squishing in the grass, the crackling crunch of bone echoed in her ears as the shifters chewed through the corpses.
With the madness unfolding around her, there was no doubt in her mind the male elf had made victory far easier for her tonight.
From the viewing platform, she could hear someone announcing the number of witches remaining. The princes stood on, evaluating everything everyone was doing. Their tiny smirks and shared whispers with each other made a fierce protectiveness stir in her chest.
Imani’s eyes locked on the dead Norn on the ground again. A pang of horror and regret tore through her insides. It mixed with the potent fury and adrenaline blazing through her nerve endings. Her lip curled in disgust aimed at herself and the Niflheim princes.
I will make them pay for this sin someday , she thought with an agonizing internal scream.
Grasping her wand tighter, she shut her eyes. If she stared too long, she’d lose control of her shadows.
Hide. Run and hide , Imani yelled at herself. She didn’t think she could control her magic in the wildness. How many more witches would die if she didn’t? Cowardly as it might be, she wanted to slip away and hide in the dark corners, if she could.
When she scanned the courtyard for an escape route, chaos assaulted her eyes—witches tearing into each other, hacking through limbs with magic, half of them using their shifted forms.
Before she could pick a direction, a massive arm slid around her waist. “Thinking of hiding like a pretty little coward?” A massive leonine shifter was instantly behind her.
Imani recognized him right away. Aiden. He had attended the Neshuin New Year party with her and their group.
He leaned in close, as if reading her mind, his body warm against hers. “I’m sure you remember me. And now that I’ve caught you, I wouldn’t be so stupid as to run. The princes won’t like it at all.”
Dammit. Imani slammed her eyes shut, not missing the warning in his nasty tone. She had paused too long and left herself open. While her soul draw the first night had made him desire her slightly, his heartmate binding would make it challenging to compel him.
Aiden emanated a distinct dislike for Imani. His eyes had bore into her during their daily combat training sessions for the assessments. He didn’t like women who even remotely threatened him.
Two choices were in front of her—either she stayed to fight Aiden or ran and risked him catching her, anyway.
He towered over her, all muscle. Blood dripped from his mouth like he’d shifted and torn through several people. She didn’t like her chances, and Imani didn’t have much pride when it came to staying alive. So, she went invisible and ran.
Momentarily surprised, Aiden let her slip out of his grasp. His bloodred shifter eyes thinned at her invisible form. He couldn’t see her, but he could probably smell her. The savage male grinned in her direction and charged forward.
Throwing herself into the fray, she darted through the garden’s center. He was on her heels.
Pushing her legs harder, she dashed away from the shifter, like a phantom, and lost him at the tree line around the perimeter where the borders of fire ended at the gardens. For some reason, Kiran had kept the fires away from the gardens at the edge of the training field. It would be the perfect hiding spot.
A familiar form rose in the night like the moon. Stalking toward her, an imposing shadow of a man appeared with his wand raised. With the flick of his wrist, he let an intimidating wave of magic pour from his silhouetted form.
Kiran .
He stood still among the chaos.
An inhuman roar rumbled from the male witch before another stream of fire burst to life. As if there wasn’t enough heat from the other fires he’d lit, a sword of blazing flames surged forward from him, cutting through the darkness.
Kiran forced any stragglers, including her, back into the melee. Over the din of the duel, over the sounds of people ripping each other’s throats out—bits of which littered underneath her feet—Kiran cackled, an elated laugh mingling with the ensuing mayhem. The sound hadn’t been entirely him. Something profound and unnatural layered his voice, like discordant notes playing along with a sad but beautiful melody.
Imani ground her molars hard. For some time now, she’d thought she had imagined the unholy part of Kiran rearing its head from inside his eyes at times. But now, she knew it was indeed there. What could he shift into?
While it fascinated her, she needed to stay far away from it.
She cast another illusion spell around her and glared at the flames before turning back around.
Off to the side, a male pixie launched himself into the air in a blur of black leather and teeth. Esa stood firm against him, wings fluttering and murder in her eyes.
They circled each other, spells flying back and forth. The male turned and grabbed Esa’s collar, snarling, “It’s people like you who give pixies a bad name.”
But instead of attacking, he screamed like a banshee when a substance exploded into the area. Particles filled the air, getting sucked into their lungs like powder.
With the shields locking them inside, Esa’s pixie dust couldn’t dissipate as fast as usual. The garden filled with a thick poison. Even through her blurred vision, she could see the Niflheim princes perfectly protected behind Kiran’s ward.
Imani had read what some kinds of pixie dust did to a person, and she wouldn’t let Kiran see her fall apart. Luckily, she’d cast the invisibility illusion, but the dust made it impossible for her to concentrate enough to run away from the platform. Instead, she grasped onto trees and bushes—really anything—as she stumbled deeper into the courtyard to find a stealthily hidden place to collapse.
She came upon a bench with a wall of fire raging behind it, located quite a way away from the main melee. The heat was intense, and nausea hit Imani like a wall. She dropped to her hands and knees.
The landscape around Imani contracted. She couldn’t tell what was up or down or how to see straight. The sounds of the world around her had grown increasingly bloodthirsty. Everyone was screaming. Esa stood crying in a pile of blood.
This was nightmare pixie dust.
A tunnel of blackness spread across Imani’s field of vision, dimming the light from the fires. Ignoring it, she tried to keep her eyes open, but it turned dark around her. She snarled at the blindness.
Out of control, Imani’s veins blackened entirely. Inkiness seeped from her signature. Ripples of black burst from her skin, encasing her body in a swirl of night. She must have appeared as a pure shadow while her magic embedded into her signature and surrounded her. For a few moments, all Imani could see was blackness while the shadows battered the pixie dust out of her system.
With a choke, she retched up multicolored bile and magic remnants.
After several seconds of heaving, her vision began to clear, and she called the shadows back. They instantly snapped back inside, invisible again.
The rapid response surprised her, and she flexed her hands, checking for signs of blackness. But there was none.
If anyone had observed Imani in her shadowed form, they likely attributed it to the hallucinations of the dust. She hoped she was far enough from the princes to be unseen.
Swiveling her head, she clutched her wand tight and searched for the next threat. The courtyard had become quiet except for a few moans and errant shouts. Some people crawled and writhed on the ground, still overtaken by the pixie dust, including Aiden. Unaffected by her own magic, Esa stood to the side, trying to catch her breath and wiping the gore off her face.
At least a hundred Essenheim witches lay dead. It appeared to be over.
Imani dragged herself to her feet then started the gruesome walk back to the platform. Blood and mud slopped onto the ground.
A pixie woman was in pieces to her left, and the head of the Norn elf she’d killed earlier lay to the right. Battered and smashed, it was unrecognizable after sustaining damage during the melee. Nevertheless, she gingerly picked it up, intent on memorizing his last moment.
Starlight glinted off his silver hair that was so much like her own. Blood leaked from the bulging lifeless eyes, and bones gleamed white where the skin had ripped off his skull. Only tendons remained around his once beautiful mouth, exposing blunt teeth and elvish fangs.
She wrapped his hair around her fist.
With the head swinging in her hand, Imani stomped to the courtyard’s edge. Burning flames still raged across the courtyard, blocking her inside.
She narrowed her eyes to slits as she chucked the Norn elf’s head as hard as possible at the Niflheim princes.
A snap of Kiran’s wand blocked it.
One shrill, furious scream erupted from deep in her chest while he grinned at her like a smug madman.