36. Chapter 36
Chapter 36
N ot one person had broken the rule … until now.
A mix of rage and surprise shone on Aiden’s face at the sight of her blood. Tense anticipation swirled in the air.
“You did this on purpose, elf witch,” he said, ready to rip her apart. “You and your dark magic.”
A growl cut through the silence before he went in for the kill. In an instant, the Niflheim heir loomed over her. His speed seemed impossible for such a large man. Saevel let out a snarl, deeply more menacing and more predatory than anything else from the night.
The hairs on her neck rose.
Not daring to move from the ground, she watched with disbelief as the scene from her vision unfolded.
“It was an accident,” Aiden sputtered. “Things got out of hand, but?—”
“It was not an accident.” Saevel curled his lip and held the other male by his throat with one hand. “Thought you could get away with it, huh?”
Just as her vision had foretold, the prince dipped his head, and whatever the shifter was about to say ended in a gasp. Before Imani could register the punishment, the shifter fell. Dead. His body hit the ground with a heavy thud , and his heart followed, smacking into the mud.
A shrill scream—Nida, most likely—erupted from the chambers below while chanting and shouts broke out in the audience.
Unable to look away, Imani surveyed the body. Bones, tendons, and flesh hung out of his throat in a gnarled mess, with dark red liquid spreading in a halo around him.
Saevel stepped back with a savage expression as Aiden’s body twitched, the last bits of life leaving him. He nudged the corpse with his foot, turning it over with a wet plop . Blood pooled on the ground, dark in the twilight.
Above her, the crowd surged to their feet, booing. Most had come to see a duel to the death. This had simply been an execution. Even worse—she hadn’t received her master brands.
Imani resignedly held up her hands, studying them with profound disappointment. There could be many theories why, but it was probably because she hadn’t accessed her whole arsenal of magic or demonstrated control of it by killing Aiden. Proving control over powerful magic was vital, but holding back was not.
Tilting her head up, she saw Aiden’s spirit hovered. The shadows Imani commanded earlier still clung to it. Unlike Master Selhey, whose spirit had disappeared of its own accord, this one called out in silent anguish, unsure where to go or what to do at the sudden ripping from its corporeal state.
“Leave,” Imani told the spirit, pointing her wand at the sky.
Much to her surprise, he did.
Good. If he hadn’t, she would have eaten him right then and there.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Kiran jump down from the box, sauntering over.
A slow clap made her snap her gaze to him, and he grinned maniacally. “Incredible! I’m in absolute awe over your performance.” The jacket he now wore whipped in the wind as he moved to stand next to his brother.
Saevel was a murderous beast, but Kiran was utterly insane.
Imani’s heart pounded wildly in response to Kiran’s intense eyes on her.
“Hmm,” he said, “maybe you should have practiced magic more instead of trying so hard to be beautiful tonight.”
This prick.
As if hearing her thoughts, something malignant flashed over his face, and he winked. “Now, my brother and I will discuss whether to let you move on or fail.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious.”
His handsome, joyous face was next to hers. Those mismatched eyes glinted even in the dark, daring her to fight him. “I am. You’re done for the day, little elf. But you delivered the entertainment of the evening, no doubt.”
Imani raised herself on her elbows and wiped at the blood, mostly smearing it across her chest. Her fingernails were caked with mud as she dragged herself into a standing position. Defeat sagged her shoulders. Had she won, the pleasure would have been indescribable.
But she hadn’t. Once again, her life depended on other people’s decisions.
“I should win by default,” she hissed so only the princes could hear.
The Serpent Prince tsked, now close enough she could breathe him in. Lightheadedness came over her as Kiran leaned in, smelling her hair. “I like the scent of blood on you.” His voice dripped with condescension.
His gaze landed on her neck as another rust-colored droplet ran down and onto her chest. Kiran stroked it with his fingertip then licked it. The delicate skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled when he shot her a mesmerizing smile. “My brother told you all the rules before we began. Were those pretty little ears listening? While the person who drew blood is executed, the winner is determined by us afterward. Since you couldn’t adhere to the other rule and kill?—”
“I might have killed him if he hadn’t intervened,” she argued, motioning to Saevel. It wasn’t true. She had been about to die, but she was desperate. Kiran had made the rules, and he had made them purposely vague. This was her life on the line!
“Liar,” Kiran breathed. He stole a glance over his shoulder at his brother.
Saevel paced behind him, blood still on his mouth and hands.
“I’m not lying,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Do Norn elves have inferior hearing abilities? I said leave .”
There could be no mistaking the threat in his tone. If Imani kept pushing, it might get her killed. She couldn’t afford any foolish decisions, so she shot him a look she hoped said, fuck you , and with a quiet, tiny, frustrated growl, she stormed off.
Once in the shadows, she peeked back, unable to shake the suspicion the cut hadn’t been an accident.
Workers rolled corpses and stacked them together in preparation for the burning. It was dirty, morbid work.
She wasn’t sure how long she stood there. The bodies weren’t catching her attention; it was the souls floating restlessly above them. While most were shades of white, gray, or black, one appeared to be flickering and forming into something red above its host.
Below the soul, the witch’s hair shined dark red, while her eyes were white. It was the fourth female in the duels.
Someone dragged the woman up off the ground, her head lolling against the hard dirt, and tossed her into the pile. She landed on a jumble of arms and legs and stayed. Her matted red hair flowed from her head, tangling with another body. Imani imagined her asleep, as peaceful as a newborn babe relaxed in its mother’s arms.
Another body smacked against the dead woman with a thud , pushing tight into the larger mountain of corpses. Now, the only visible part of her, the crimson hair, was a piece of life shining among the grotesque flesh.
The red apparition in the shape of the beautiful witch came into focus. With shaking hands, the woman cupped her cheeks, lifted her shimmering head, and let out a silent scream. Her eyes locked on Imani’s in a final, mournful howl no one else could hear.
With a whoosh, the mass of shadows swirled up around Imani, trapping her in an invisible storm. They swept around her neck and down her arms, soft like a breeze, and dozens of voices whispered, clamoring together into a cloak of shimmering smoke.
And Imani was tired of holding back. Tired of denying herself. So, she did the only thing she could and breathed deeply.
Each soul dove inside her broken, bleeding body, feeding her until they existed no more.
Weariness enveloped her as she carefully limped into the bedroom and shut the door to her suite. On edge, invigorated from feeding, emotions raging, she wanted to throw things, destroy her furniture, and set something on fire. Instead, she cried until it hurt … until she was only a husk of her body.
Not only had she not received her master brand, but she would need to go to Tanyl and ask him to bargain for her. He had more power in this instance, and she hoped he would be motivated enough to save her life. She trusted him enough to at least try.
She didn’t particularly want a master brand, but she’d worked so hard and sacrificed so much, and it had been her ticket to Niflheim if she had won.
She would never know, and it didn’t matter. What mattered most was survival, and her family’s safety.
Wiping her eyes, Imani eventually tore the clothing from her body, desperate to throw everything away. While feeding had helped, it hadn’t magically cured her body, and she hissed at the pressure undressing put on her wounds.
After somehow shimmying out of her leathers, she lifted her nightgown over her head, wincing, then carefully slipped on her robe.
A knock made her jump, and she froze.
More knocks turned into bangs. “Meira, it’s Tanyl.”
The clock showed an hour past midnight. The feast would be ending, and while he might want to check on her, he’d never been to her rooms. A sense of wrongness settled in her bones.
Another shout and hiss came from him. It made her smile, remembering the wards Kiran had cast the other night. Tanyl had tried to enter without her permission.
Not willing to show her face in the harsh light of the hallway, she shadowed herself more then opened the door a crack. “Yes?”
He took it as an invitation and barreled inside. “Who placed these insane wards? You don’t have a defensive brand. And what happened out there?” He ran to her windows, pulling all the drapes shut and shrouding the room in even more darkness. When the prince turned around, his eyes widened at her ghastly appearance.
Her reflection in the mirror over the hearth stared back at her. Crusted red blood stained her chin, mingling with her black scar. Where the blood hadn’t splattered, her skin was translucent, with black and blue bruises spread across her arms, thighs, abdomen, and chest. A deep throb ached across her chest where the cut made movement difficult. Imani suspected she had a few broken ribs, too.
Live or die, she fought well with such a battered body, and she didn’t want his sympathy or disgust. She was strong and proud of her determination.
“The definition of a win appears to be up for discussion,” she muttered, rubbing the tension in her neck. “Have you heard anything about their decision?”
“No. The princes plan to announce the outcome tomorrow morning.”
“At least I’ll have a few hours to?—”
He shook his head and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. “Listen, Meira. Do not leave this room tonight. Keep whatever wards you have in place, and do not open the door for anyone except me.”
Imani narrowed her eyes. “What aren’t you saying? I should be safe until morning at least.”
“You won’t. Something else has happened.” He raked his hands through his hair, tugging at it gently. “I have no idea what she has on you, but my mother is hearing evidence tomorrow, supposedly proving you killed a merchant named Malis and caused the Riverlands’ Fabric event with the dark magic from tonight. She claims you released atrophic magic, causing the storm over the stadium, and if she deems the evidence about the murder credible, she’ll use you to send a message to the entire kingdom and the Illithiana family. The Crown won’t wait before taking you into custody, and you’ll be swiftly and publicly executed––deal with the Niflheim Throne be damned.”
Her thoughts raced. What evidence? Her magic might have left remnants—the harsh, peppery smell—but it would have been only enough to identify it as atrophic magic, not even sufficient to differentiate if it was flesh magic. She had left her cloak there, but it hardly proved anything. Everyone had cloaks. Losing one didn’t mean she had committed those crimes. She had checked the manor and had been alone. Maybe someone had seen from the orchard? If so, they’d waited a long time to come forward. Why now?
And her magic? The whole crowd had seen it, sure, but could they prove she had cast it, and that the event hadn’t been an unnatural phenomenon?
Did it even matter? If the queen wanted her dead, she would be dead, and the secret about her shadow magic was out.
“I don’t believe it,” Tanyl assured her, running his hands up and down her arms in comforting strokes. “That wasn’t any kind of magic from a spell. It would be impossible to cast, especially for a new young witch.”
Imani almost scoffed and corrected him. It was certainly possible, and she hated how he underestimated her. But she couldn’t reveal too much. She had to protect her siblings.
Tanyl continued, “Something is wrong with this situation, and I will do everything possible to stop it tonight. But my mother might not listen to me, and if so, it also means you can’t come back to Essenheim while she still lives.”
“It could be decades.” Tanyl planned to kill his mother, but Imani didn’t know how or when.
A burning urge to touch the queen and learn the truth of her death reared inside her.
“I see it in your eyes—the wheels of your sharp mind are spinning something into a plan. I know you’re probably already plotting something,” Tanyl said, searching her face.
Imani looked up from the floor. “I have no idea what you mean.” She hadn’t yet had time to plot, but she would get there.
“Please don’t do anything rash. Stay here,” he repeated, shaking her shoulders. “It’s too dangerous to wander around without protection right now. The whole country knows what happened in the Riverlands, and all people are talking about are the high-bred females from the duel tonight, especially the elf and the storm. If my mother thinks the person responsible is slipping out of her grasp, she might take you into custody even before hearing the evidence.”
Powerless to control her life, the walls closed on her. Her fate rested in the hands of powerful people, all singularly focused on their own dangerous plans.
“Thank you for speaking with your mother for me.” She paused. “Tanyl, if anything happens to me, please look after my siblings,” she whispered. This situation called for it, despite how much she hated begging in general.
He pulled her close. “It won’t be necessary, but I will,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Now, don’t leave this room tonight.” He turned away, his tone cutting off any argument.
The sickness in her stomach worsened when the door clicked closed, but she believed Tanyl. He cared about her and would do what he could. Still, it didn’t matter. The Essenheim heir wouldn’t be influential enough to protect her against the queen. After all, she was entirely guilty, and if they had proof of Malis’s murder, it was probably damning enough for them to convict her circumstantially. Given the dire situation, not even the heir apparent could protect her against the Niflheim princes. Besides, he was preoccupied tonight. She needed to handle this alone before Dialora arrested her.
Dragging her hands down her face, she composed herself mentally for what needed to be done. One vile option gave her the best chance at protecting herself and her family, and it wouldn’t happen waiting around in this room for Tanyl.