Chapter 14
For the rest of the week, thoughts of Nida constantly ran through Imani’s head. It wasn’t guilt. It had happened, it was in the past now, and she didn’t feel remorse for running away. Imani had deadened herself to that type of emotion long ago.
No, selfishly, Nida’s dead corpse made Imani think more about herself than anyone else.
She worried about being one herself, but she also puzzled over why some people lived without their heartmates and others didn’t.
She had heard about people who had killed themselves after the death of their heartmate, but she hadn’t known any of them personally.
In fact, the three people she did know who’d lost their heartmates appeared unaffected—Esa, herself, and her grandmother.
It was dizzying to think about why, and all Imani could guess was that it came down to either rearing or breeding, or both.
That morning when she arrived in Zadie’s rooms, she learned her teacher had added another student to Imani’s daily routine—Esa. Now the nymph could sit back and watch them spar while barking corrections. As expected, Esa proved to be another challenging opponent.
Imani and Esa had always been good fighters, but Zadie’s training was pushing them both to their limits.
Still, Imani couldn’t deny Zadie’s effectiveness—not even two weeks into training and Imani was semi-reliably able to call and disband the shadows on command.
Esa could wield multiple types of elemental magic simultaneously now.
Today, they were to work on examining the potential of letting her shadows absorb Imani’s body to see what might occur.
Imani felt a pulse of anxiety at the exhaustion she knew would come with such practice.
Each day, her entire body was achy and tired.
So tired she could barely muster up the energy to search for the royal vaults and the Drasil.
Last night, she’d finished searching the upper floors of her tower, and earlier this week, she’d raided the palace’s public bookcases, sprawling the tomes all over the floor and chipping through words she hardly understood.
Nothing. She needed more evidence, more clues.
Tanyl hadn’t let her read the copy of A History of Royal Bloodlines, and she had a feeling she might need to start there, but it was nowhere to be found in the library.
Anywhere she searched put her in danger, as well.
As the only high-bred Norn elf in the castle, people’s eyes were on her everywhere she went.
There was only one more day to search before they left with the emissary group.
Kiran and his soon-to-be mate would be accompanied by his slew of master witches, including Esa and Imani, as they toured the country and spread goodwill for the throne, especially with the elves.
There would be little time or opportunity to search for much, and thinking about the other Norn elf still smarted.
But the aching feeling felt different today.
Deeper. Heavier.
She knew she needed to feed again but hadn’t thought it would be this soon.
The hunger could have been caused by any number of things—the root binding digging deeper, more training, or both.
Either way, now that Tanyl was physically out of her life, she didn’t have much time to figure out a new solution.
At first, Imani had tried the other Norn elf, Luvon. With both their needs, and no heartmates here, it made perfect sense. But as she’d stood outside his door to knock, she could hear him with someone. Her cheeks had flushed, feeling ashamed for not having solved this like he had.
Saevel wasn’t in the palace at the moment, and asking Esa to help her, much like Meira used to, seemed like a bad idea.
Imani had to be careful who she opened her mind and soul up to, even if it was one-sided.
If she knew a memory spell, she’d use prostitutes like Kiran did, but until then, she’d have to find someone new she could trust.
But who?
The walk back to her rooms was painful after her training. Her muscles protested every step, and she felt like she would vomit at any moment.
Just as she turned the corner down her small, dark hallway, a man—a shifter—appeared standing by her door. Imani whipped her head around. Her rapidly beating heart settled when she found the hallway empty with no one else nearby.
Imani knew this day would come. In fact, she had been waiting for this shifter—Ren—to show up at her door before they’d left since Tanyl had told her he’d be her covert contact between her and the Essenheim Kingdom.
How Ren passed information undetected to Tanyl was a mystery to Imani, but he would leave here empty-handed.
Days ago, Imani had decided too many people controlled her, and she wouldn’t have Tanyl move up that list anymore.
While she cared about what happened to her siblings, Tanyl was weak.
He wouldn’t really truly hurt a pretty young elf like Meira, and he sure as fuck wouldn’t touch an innocent teenager like Dak.
Despite what he wanted people to think, Tanyl had honor.
While he probably would hang her for treason, she’d rather die than go back home disgraced without the Drasil.
Without it, she was nothing but a doll to be played with and tossed away by two dangerous princes.
Without it, magic would never return, and she’d become powerless again. Without it, she’d be … no one.
There was nothing in it for her to continue this deal with Tanyl except risk her own hide, which she wouldn’t do for him.
Ren watched her intently as she approached, his brows wrinkling. It was at that moment, her maidservant, Rosalynn, hustled out of the room. Before either of them could speak, Rosalynn’s eyes slid to the shifter, aware of his stare on Imani, and she cleared her throat.
“My lady, I’ve packed your clothes for tomorrow and brought you some food. Let me know if there is anything else I can get you this evening,” she said.
The shifter continued to stare boldly at Imani, and for a moment, it looked like her maid might say something. But as a well-trained staff member of the palace, Rosalynn knew when to keep her mouth shut. She bowed, said good night to Imani, then scurried away.
When they were alone again, Imani didn’t bother to greet the shifter. Instead, she stepped inside her room and merely waved for him to come in.
She heard him follow behind, obeying, his work boots stomping loudly compared to her heeled ones.
“I’m here to collect the intelligence you’ve gathered and relay it to the prin—I mean king,” he announced.
Imani sized him up. He was younger than she’d expected, with a face that didn’t look a day over eighteen. And he was nervous. Unlike her, this mattered to him. Tanyl must have him by the balls for him to risk something so dangerous here.
“Well, that’s nice.” She undid her braid and began brushing out the tangles. “But I’m not saying anything until you give me something.”
“The king has made it clear how displeased he’ll be if I bring him back a pittance of information.”
Imani wasn’t intimidated. The king’s threats didn’t scare her when she felt a million miles away in Niflheim.
“Then have the king come tell me himself. Ah, that’s right—he can’t. Well, I’m sorry for whatever he has over your head, but that’s your problem.” She paused and gave him a feral smile. “I could be persuaded to help you and share what I’ve seen if you’d be willing to do something for me.”
Asking him for sex crossed her mind. It would easily solve her problems for a while. But she didn’t know this man, and there was no way she’d open herself up to him and risk having any details get back to Tanyl, even if she did try to use a memory spell.
Also, the idea repulsed her. This man was reasonably good-looking, but there was something distinctly unappealing about sleeping with this shifter.
Another brilliant idea struck her, though.
“What is it you want?” Ren asked, guarded and suspicious.
“A cup of your blood—now.” Imani’s eyes landed on a chalice from the dinner tray Rosalynn had laid out for her. She grabbed it and shoved it in his face.
“What? Why?” he sputtered. It was a fair question; people didn’t give up their blood for just anyone. But she was desperate right now, and he’d be too scared to say anything afterward, anyway.
“Some blood for a spell I’m working on.” She waved a dismissive hand.
“You know us witches, always working on something new.” Sauntering over to her dinner, Imani snatched the knife and began tossing it up in the air.
She hadn’t worked with knives in what felt like forever.
It felt good to hold a physical weapon in her hand again instead of just her wand.
He audibly swallowed then took out a pencil and scrap of paper. “Fine. Now, tell me what you have for him.”
“Not until I get what I want,” she snapped.
Before he could reply, she lunged at him.
Pummeling Ren to the ground, she held the supper knife to his throat and growled at him.
Anger now lashed through her in a way she couldn’t control, swiftly turning to insatiable hunger.
How dare Tanyl think she’d take this dangerous spying arrangement lying down.
She had hurt him with her lies, so he wanted to hurt her back but wasn’t capable.
Another growl tore from her throat. If only she could be an actual animal like Ren for a bit. She was that desperate, wanting to rip through her skin and find relief.
“What are you doing?” he sputtered.
The shifter didn’t deserve her anger—this was entirely Tanyl’s doing—but Imani couldn’t make herself stop.
Why couldn’t she? Training had taught her that controlling emotions was a key part of controlling her magic.
But all the lessons and logic had gone out the window when she’d thought about Tanyl prancing around in a crown that wasn’t his.
“Are you a madwoman?” His eyes moved from her nose to her mouth several times.
“Probably.” She sliced a shallow, long cut near his collarbone and let the blood flow. Once the cup was full, she crawled off him and tried to stand as dignified as possible. Ren didn’t care about such manners and stumbled to his feet, clutching his throat. She tossed him a napkin.
“Happy now?” He glared at her as he dabbed the blood. “Tell me what you know.”
Imani’s lips parted, but it took a moment for the words to follow.
“I’ve only been here a short while, but what I’ve observed is a monarch in good health, with six sons who appear to serve him loyally.
Their version of the Royal Order of Magic—the Council of Royal Magic—is a well-run organization, but they’ve been careful to keep me away from it. ”
The details around the alliance with the Norn elves sat on the tip of her tongue, but she held it back, needing to keep some information close to her chest for now.
“This is not enough for him.” Ren’s voice shook. Was he seriously afraid of Tanyl?
“Well, I did have something else to tell you.”
His jaw clenched, and he didn’t respond.
“Here’s my final message to Tanyl,” she announced, pointing to the scrawling handwriting on the note.
“Write this down—tell him that it’s not this easy to control me.
I know he’s ‘taking care’ of my sister for me, but tell him to do whatever he wants to her—I couldn’t give two fucks—and tell him that I’ll deal with him when I get back. ”
Ren went silent after Imani’s words.
She broke first. “Will I get the pleasure of your company tomorrow? I’m tagging along with the emissary of peace.”
Please, by the Saints, remain here in the castle.
“No,” he sighed. “But I’m sure I’ll have a message for you when you return in a few weeks.”
Imani didn’t doubt it.
The blood tasted horrible.
After one sip, Imani gagged, but she was determined to make this work.
With each sip, her desperation for a more permanent solution grew.
Most elves didn’t live such a solitary life, and those who did were open and kind, like Luvon or Master Selhey, and probably had no issues finding companions for feeding.
It seemed neither of them had problems with trust, like Imani.
She wasn’t bitter, but she was frustrated.
They were to leave at midnight, not tomorrow morning as she’d thought, as the storm would clear up then, giving them a window to head out of the city.
After getting instructions for their departure, Imani only had minutes to finish the blood before Rosalynn escorted her downstairs with her belongings.
By now, she’d figured she’d have drunk it all, but there was still more than half left.
Slipping out her wand, she tried to heat the blood, which made it slightly more palatable. Finally, in one large gulp, she forced the thick, warm liquid down. Choking on it, she almost retched on the rug.
Rubbing her belly, she wondered if this, coupled with the dodgy spell she had cast, would be enough to sustain her for a while. If it did, it was worth it.
A knock on the door startled her. Wiping the blood from her mouth, Imani’s hand shook, and she prepared to act as if everything was normal, despite feeling the opposite.