33. Chapter 33
Chapter 33
I mani would give this mysterious divination spell to Kiran, even if it killed her. She needed the answer to the third assessment. Her curiosity about who he wanted it for would have to wait. She would deliver him a perfect final product.
Although a small part of her wanted to see the man’s face, too.
She plaited her hair while repeating the different incantations. Some would work better than others. Still, unfortunately, her knowledge of divination was limited, and with a finite amount of hair, she didn’t have the liberty of making mistakes while creating this spell.
It was a blatant overexaggeration on her part to claim she could perform this magic fine. Casting this flesh magic divination spell would be more complicated than she’d let on. Some witches created spells similar in structure to others, but none were ever truly the same. The power of the witch and their own personal essence ensured nearly all spells were unique, even if they had the same results—made for use by even non-magic users. Anyone could say the incantation, use the spell, or drink the potion created by the witch, and it would trigger the Fabric’s power. It was what made magic so coveted and feared in Essenheim.
She clenched her teeth and lit a fire in the hearth. Flames crackled and grew. The reflections danced in her eyes as she waited for the heat to increase.
Using fire as a medium would work to her advantage because it would be fast and powerful, but divination spells behaved so prickly, so fluid. Imani preferred more precise magic.
Cursing, she flicked her wand hand. She only had a few hours before Kiran arrived, and Imani needed to focus on the task.
She got to work by holding the parchment and hair in her other hand. The first steps were easy, yet it took an hour of tedious concentration and a steady stream of controlled magic.
Acting beyond her command, tiny invisible roots of her essence and magic flowed outward from Imani’s chest, coaxing the fire into a steady burn. A tendril of warm, silken magic from the fire brushed against hers and gently tried to twine itself around one of her wisps of magic. It was working.
When the waves radiated from the fire, her arm shook and sweat lined her forehead. She smiled at her work, but once she put the hair in, she would need to control and channel it into the smoke—a tricky endeavor.
Ripping her wand away from the building spell, she split the lock of hair in half with one clean cut, not wanting to use any less in case she needed more. She dropped it into the flames.
Things happened quickly once the strands caught fire. Instantly, magic burst inside the room, coating it in hot, suffocating heat. Stunned, Imani waited a second too long to grasp control again, and once she did, it overwhelmed her senses and filled her body.
Groaning, she sensed the spell falling apart. Working fast, she quickly grabbed the rest of the hair to try correcting the spell, and when the time came to drop the hair in, she didn’t hesitate.
Tugging the burst outward into her wand, she murmured the unique incantation she had picked out for this spell and pushed it back into the flames. This time, it was even more potent. The fire let out a loud crack and burned blue.
The room was alive with magic. Faint whispers of it steamed off her skin and mixed with the smoke. For a moment, dizziness whirled her vision. She gripped the arm of a chair and took a deep breath, pulse racing. With one final uttered word, pain rocked her.
She sank to her knees. Imani whispered the spell she had created, and the weight of the room crushed her body. Each breath filled her lungs with boiling, sharp glass as if she were now the medium, not the fire.
It was too much … she was going to kill herself.
A pepper and smoke smell permeated the room. Intense magic, indeed.
Frantic, Imani crawled to the desk and grabbed the parchment, scribbling down the version she had created, repeating her incantation like a prayer.
Tingling magic skimmed over her body. A good sign. Her breath came in short pants, waiting. A knot formed in her stomach at potentially seeing Kiran’s face in her mind among the blankness. She tried and tried to cast the spell to see the man.
Did it work?
Darkness took over before anyone appeared.
Cold, crisp air filled her, lifting her slightly off the floor. She breathed it greedily as her ears popped and the pressure in the room relaxed. Lolling her head back, she stretched her gaze across the room where a female nymph stood with her wand outstretched.
The woman marched forward and grabbed her arm, roughly pulling Imani up. “Are you trying to kill yourself? Or alert the entire city you’re pulling from the Fabric?” She shouted at her some more, but Imani barely registered the words. Who the hell was this nymph? Imani racked her brain.
Now, as she stood upright, she realized this was one of Kiran’s advisers. Imani had seen the Essenheim naiad speaking and laughing with Kiran during the assessments.
This witch was a traitor to Essenheim, and Imani disliked her immediately for that fact alone.
Imani pushed away and braced herself against the wall. Dizzy. She was so dizzy. She’d lost control at the end. Her lungs felt painfully constricted, and each breath sounded labored. Her chest burned, and her head hurt, but she was otherwise all right.
“You stupid girl. You used fire?”
“It’s an excellent medium. I’ve worked with it before.” A lie. But Ara and Meira had used it with ease.
“It is an excellent medium. But you”––the nymph’s eyes roamed up and down Imani’s body––“are too slight to channel through it alone for flesh magic divination.” The nymph’s eyes flashed as Imani pressed her hand to her ribs, and the woman shook her head, tsking. “He should’ve never trusted you could perform divination just fine ,” she said, throwing Imani’s words back at her.
Kiran must have told her about their conversation, which pissed Imani off.
“Move away from me. I did handle it fine,” she snapped, wincing at the pain coursing through her head.
“Clearly.”
“What are you doing here, anyway? Kiran was supposed to meet me.” Imani righted herself, her eyes focusing more. “Go,” she ordered, pointing to the door. “I made a deal with Kiran, not you.”
The woman stood inches from her, her dark glare penetrating Imani. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly. I’m not handing this spell over to some witch?—”
“I’m not some witch.” An amused grin spread across the nymph’s beautiful face. “Kiran is busy, so as far as you’re concerned, the prince and I are one and the same. You can call me Master Heirwyn.” She put out the palm of her hand, waiting. “Now, hand over the spell, and I’ll give you the answers you seek.”
This was a new revelation. The nymph witch was obviously close to Kiran and wasn’t afraid to throw her power around, and her being a traitor to Essenheim still didn’t sit well with Imani. Faint anger stirred deep in her chest, and maybe some sort of jealousy.
With narrowed eyes, Imani thrust the spell toward the woman.
“The spell took? You saw the man?” Master Heirwyn snatched the paper from Imani’s hand. “The female’s heartmate?”
“Cast it yourself. I saw the poor bastard,” Imani lied, tapping her temple, “right here.” She prayed her bluff worked.
Imani bit her lip and waited as the nymph shut her eyes and read the spell under her breath. When they opened again, the gleam in her eyes confirmed it had worked. It was hungry. Greedy. Like the woman wanted to put a collar on Imani and force her to do tricks.
“Impressive.”
A thrill of excitement shot through Imani after hearing the praise, and then she wanted to slap herself. She shouldn’t preen after scraps of compliments from people. Disgusted, she went right for her answers.
“Who am I facing in the third assessment?”
“What do you know about the breed?” Master Heirwyn put her hand on her hip, waiting.
Imani’s fingers pressed into her temples, attempting to stop the raging headache inside. “Nothing. Kiran never told me a name, let alone a breed.”
“Pairs will publicly duel to the death, using magic and physical strength. And there’s one rule—no blood. Each witch must be practiced and precise to ensure no blood is spilled?—”
“Yes, yes,” Imani cut her off. “More sanctioned and permissible murder. Kiran explained those details. Tell me about my opponent.”
“He’s a high leonine shifter named Aiden.”
Imani was silent momentarily before muttering, “How is this even a fair fight? He’s not a master but certainly one of the strongest and biggest new witches here.”
“Indeed, he is,” she said. “You will be forced to channel your best magic and overcome your shortfalls to kill the other person and trigger the master brands.”
Should she trust this traitorous nymph? One who betrayed Essenheim to live in their country and work for the Niflheim royals? Imani had no choice. She had no other leads.
“This is bullshit,” Imani cursed. Her body was still shaking from the aftershocks of magic.
“Get used to bullshit if you survive, which is unlikely because even I’m inclined to think the princes want you dead with this pairing. No one will go easy on you in the Niflheim Kingdom.” The nymph’s magic signature surrounded Imani’s. “As an Essenheim breed who’s lived in Niflheim a long time, a bit of advice?—”
“Save it. This deal is complete,” Imani spat, motioning to the door. “Leave.”
“I’m trying to help you, girl.” Master Heirwyn’s chuckle was a low rumble as she moved to stand over Imani. “You made this mistake once, but never find yourself bargaining with any of the Illithianas ever again.” Her gaze darkened. “Especially Kiran. He’s more like their father than any others have ever been or will be. You’ve seen a sliver of what he’s like and capable of.”
It took every ounce of her strength not to shrink away from the high-bred witch—her power was formidable—and yet, the condescending warning, while probably true, sent Imani’s temper flaring.
“Are you threatened by me?” Imani managed to rasp.
In a disconcerting reminder of Ara, the nymph threw her head back and laughed. It was a cackling, spiteful sound, heating Imani’s face. After a deep breath, she quieted and regarded Imani with arrogance.
Imani’s shadows itched to rip the flesh from her pretty face.
“Wake up, elf witch,” she continued. “Pray you don’t survive the assessments, or you’ll wish you’d died when you arrive at Kehomel. You’re beyond na?ve, possessing magic you have no business wielding, batting your big, beautiful eyes, and assuming you know how this realm works. You don’t. And if you’re smart, you’ll fulfill your end of this deal with Kiran and slink away from his sight. Because if you end up any more tangled with us, we will drain you of life, shredding you into something you don’t even know, and eventually, you’ll be in so deep with binding magic you can’t get out. Like your grandmother.”
The nymph walked to the door. Her movements were painfully graceful, a perfect reminder of her predatory constitution. When she threw a glance over her shoulder, Imani could have sworn she wore a victorious little smirk.