The Serpent Prince (The Plot of the Six Saint #2)

Chapter 1

The smell of ash, and magic, and death choked the air as the guards and servants set up a makeshift camp near the Niflheim border.

The traveling party had chosen a spot near Imani’s home village, Kishion. Much larger and with more crossings, Imani was relieved they wouldn’t take the familiar bridge she’d seen so many times growing up.

Many of her dreams still featured the Riverlands, her mind forever stamped with the good memories she’d shared with her siblings and dead best friend, Riona—and the really, really bad ones with Malis and Grandmother Aralana.

Now, without her estranged siblings or Riona, she’d rather forget it altogether.

Imani stood on a knoll, watching the people work, and thought about the trials that had brought them here.

Kiran and Saevel had pulled it off—they’d successfully stolen fifty of Essenheim’s most powerful witches …

and killed the rest. Despite surviving, Imani shuddered at what awaited them in Niflheim’s harsh, nightmare lands.

As cunning as he was, Kiran had a plan for the captive witches … but she had no idea what it could be.

It had been four days of hard traveling from the capital to the Riverlands, and four days for her to overthink everything that had happened between her and Tanyl in the carriage before their departure. Another mess she’d gotten herself into, among many at the moment.

She shivered at her impending tasks: spying on the Illithianas, finding the Drasil, and killing the youngest Niflheim prince, after making him beg for his life on his knees.

She was undecided about the first task, but she needed to complete the second one before embarking on the third, which she would.

Determination pumped through her blood and seeped into her bones, although a kernel of unease still kept her from doing anything rash.

She still had no idea what her magic was capable of, nor was she any closer to finding the Drasil. She was stuck for the time being, and it grated on her.

As she wandered around, doubt crept in. Could she do this? Everyone had bested her before when she’d been so na?ve, and this was an entirely new kingdom, with its own dynamics, that she was entering.

Imani bit her lip, trying to calm her nerves.

Part of her still felt like that helpless, magicless elf trapped in the cage in the back of her grandmother’s shop.

Such deep-seated insecurities were difficult for her to simply forget—despite wishing she could.

Especially after the trials she’d endured yet somehow had also failed, they were lingering.

Loneliness plagued her, as well. She’d never felt so alone, and in these moments, she wondered if her true father was out there somewhere. Who was he, and why hadn’t he come for her?

But she was powerful—she could feel it in her bones—and she would ignore these feelings of doubt and tap into her true potential, even if it killed her. Power was the key.

An approaching storm churned and rumbled above them. If it bothered anyone, they kept it to themselves. They usually dissipated once they reached the Essenheim borders, anyway, but it was still a sight to behold.

Lightning cracked across the sky in Niflheim, a web of light that distorted any bits of the Fabric the citizens might have seen. Growing in intensity as it swept over the Niflheim mountains, the storm prepared to unleash a wave of destruction, and Imani wondered what hell they were going into.

While the Essenheim witches had the freedom to roam the camp, Imani could feel the guards watching their backs.

Soon, fires lit the camp’s perimeter, despite a steady rain attempting to thwart their efforts. The glowing fires offered some light against the darkening night and illuminated the angry, roiling sky on the horizon over the Niflheim border.

Imani’s chest tightened with anxiety, and her palms started sweating. They would be in the Southern Kingdom soon—a ruinous land marked for death by the Fabric. It took all her strength to steel her nerves and return to her tent.

She needed a plan and to harden her heart even further.

Esa and Imani shared a modest tent with thick rugs covering a raised floor and cots with soft mattresses.

It was a standard accommodation for the Essenheim witches in the traveling party.

Still, Imani was immensely grateful that it was nicer than the rudimentary shelters for the guards and servants. Those would be flooded by nightfall.

They quietly ate their supper to the sounds of pattering on the canvas, the mood still stilted after their argument earlier about Esa being Imani’s ally.

Imani didn’t trust a word out of the pixie’s mouth these days.

The flap ripped open, and a uniformed guard entered, a letter in hand. “Forgive me, ladies, but the prince sent me. I have something for Lady Aowyn.”

“Over here,” Imani ordered, nerves biting at her as she wondered what Kiran wanted.

“My lady,” the guard said, holding out the white envelope. He dipped into a bow before her then left, and Imani broke the bright red wax seal.

It was from Saevel, asking her to come to his tent in an hour.

Her stomach sank a little, but Imani didn’t have time to think about what he wanted or if his brother would be there. If she were to meet him and look presentable, she needed to start on her appearance immediately, after having traveled for three days.

Despite the tension between them, Esa—with her beautiful wings—graciously used her magic to clean Imani up and help her dress.

Imani chose the subdued emerald gown that dipped in the front to reveal just a hint of her breasts, and only felt a prickle of sadness remembering that her sister had made it.

The color made her long, silver hair sparkle, and her blue eyes were luminous against the green.

Imani looked extra pale from the tribulations of the past few days, but she cast a light glamour to cover her facial scar, finger mutilations, and signs of exhaustion.

Again, her sister’s dress made her appear perfect. She looked regal and ready to face an arrogant prince.

After stepping into the rain, Imani buried deep into her cloak. Walking into the unknown made her want to hide, and that prickle of unease stayed stuck in her stomach. What did Saevel want with her? It settled deep in her gut the closer she walked toward the tents.

When she approached, she found the princes’ quarters were less a tent and more a series of elaborate rooms. It appeared Saevel occupied the larger half, so Imani knew Kiran took up the other half.

Smoke drifted from the tops of his side, meaning the rooms were clearly occupied …

and she couldn’t help but wonder what the mad prince was doing at that exact moment.

Lifting the tent flap, Imani stepped inside, and Saevel spotted her almost immediately.

He rose and brushed past the guards to reach her.

“Imani,” he said, stroking his hands down her arms and giving her a small smile.

It made her shudder, and not from lust. She was nervous, but hid it behind a mask of indifference.

“Why did you need to see me?” Imani asked by way of greeting, taking in the room. It took all her mental strength to muster a cool, unaffected attitude about her.

“I want to know who you are feeding from now that Tanyl is gone.” Saevel didn’t mince words. She liked that about him.

Imani gave him a withering look before continuing to wander through the tent, sizing up the beautiful furniture and gorgeous rugs.

“I’m speaking about the fact that the binding from the ascension assessments keeping us from touching each other is gone,” he added with an annoyed look.

“And here I am, not even thinking about that now,” Imani lied. Her heart pounded at the image his words had put in her mind.

“Always with that lying mouth, little elf.” He locked his arm around Imani’s waist, crudely pulling her against him so she could feel how hard he was for her. Saevel really didn’t waste any time going after what he wanted, and again, she liked that about him.

But he still needed to learn some manners. She was done being used.

Irritated, Imani pulled back and shot him a fierce glare. “I didn’t give you permission to touch me, shifter.”

He inclined his head and gave her a slow, lazy smile. “My brother was right; you are delicious when you’re angry. I’m going to jerk off to this entire scene for days.”

“Your brother is truly a snake.”

“I am not disagreeing,” he said. “And because of that, I think some gratitude is in order.”

“Oh really?” Imani looked down her nose at him.

“Yes, really. Because I know that without my agreeing to that dangerous binding with him after the third assessment, you wouldn’t be here … you’d be dead.”

Imani arched a brow at him, pretending she was surprised by that statement, but she wasn’t. Kiran had said Saevel knew about their bargain, and the heir apparent wasn’t stupid. He would have known the queen had eyes to kill Imani.

Saevel wanted sex from Imani. She would need to tread carefully with this conversation, lest she lose the upper hand, because she needed information on what Kiran wanted with their binding, and this could be the perfect leverage.

“I would have figured out another way. I don’t owe you anything—I’ve given enough,” she bit out, wanting to appear strong.

Bright green eyes sparkled with desire as he ambled closer to her. His massive werebeast shifter body crowded her, and she instinctively leaned back. While still dark like Kiran’s, Saevel’s hair was slightly longer, giving him even more of a beastly look.

Saevel picked up the length of her braid, playing with it as he added, “I doubt you would have figured it out. Which is why you came crawling to my brother.” He paused and let her hair drop. “I want to make another deal; promise I can fulfill your needs and keep things discreet.”

More promises and deals she couldn’t trust. Would they ever end?