Chapter 22
Imani stared off into the early morning skies, recalling Kiran’s loathing look at her as he rode out of the camp. She had no idea what had caused such animosity in him. He had left before the sun rose two weeks ago, leaving her with Zadie and Esa.
She spent most of the days hunched over a book, and after reading everything she had “borrowed,” she was still no closer to the wand.
Slamming the book in frustration, she tossed it aside on the seat.
Esa eyed her over her own book. “Didn’t find what you were looking for in those books you stole from the Drow?”
“Who says I’m looking for something? Maybe I didn’t like the ending.”
“I know for a fact you don’t read for pleasure.”
How Esa knew that, Imani had no idea.
She sighed in resignation. “No, I didn’t find what I was looking for.”
“Too bad we can’t visit the dwarves. Their library is the most impressive in Niflheim.”
“How could it be more impressive than the royal library?”
“The dwarves like to collect beautiful things, and that includes books. I guarantee you’d find what you were looking for there.”
“Why aren’t we visiting the dwarves on this trip? It seems like a miss.”
“It’s not that we aren’t; it’s that we can’t.
” She pointed between herself and Imani then added, “The dwarves will only let in their own kind, and rarely a few other types of elves. We are not invited. They wouldn’t even let Kiran in, a half-elf, until he was mated.
Mated pairs are more trustworthy, I suppose. ”
“Kiran and Ayla are going to the dwarves?” Imani needed confirmation.
“Indeed.” Esa pushed back the curtain to gaze at the terrain, signaling the end of the conversation.
Fuming, Imani stared out the window, as well, trying—and failing—to think of a way to finagle herself into the dwarves’ city with Kiran and Ayla.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. They approached the coast where the sirens lived next to a forest.
It was beautiful, even if it was bizarre and dangerous.
The world around her was simply that—gorgeous—the complete opposite of what she’d thought she’d find here in Niflheim.
Amber leaves fell from the trees, drifting down in delicate paths like snow.
It didn’t even seem like the leaves were collecting on the ground or that the number of leaves in the trees was decreasing.
It was simply snowing leaves, because that was what it wanted to do.
She shivered. Stunning as her surroundings were, she was starting to feel what it really was—a dangerous entity, ready to devour her.
Like the Draswood, it was filled with monsters that were ready to eat her and packed with trees that watched her.
There was always a soul to a forest. She believed deeply in the power of the natural world after living in the Draswood.
It also felt like they were walking into something—something they weren’t prepared for as a simple emissary group. Would the sirens welcome them?
“We’re lost,” Esa muttered.
Imani whipped her head to the pixie. “You’re serious? In this forest?”
Someone hollered for the party to stop as Esa nodded. They slowed.
Both women clambered out of the carriage to see what they could learn.
A cool morning wind rushed over them, leaves swirling around their skirts, and Esa stared over at Imani, violence glinting in her eyes.
“I don’t like this. I was against coming here, but of course, we obey what Kiran and the king want.
” She paused. “If one of them even attempts to use compulsion on me, they will regret it.”
“I understand that perfectly,” Imani said with her jaw clenched, remembering the feeling of being out of control. “Cast first, ask questions later, right? We’re the same in that way.”
Esa arched an eyebrow. She didn’t look like she was willing to concede this point. “I’m not sure that we are, entirely. I think you still have some good in you.”
“So do you,” Imani hit back.
They lapsed into silence as they walked.
A rustling sound to the right of them got Imani’s attention.
A stag turned on his back legs and bounded twenty paces away before stopping and looking at her over his shoulder. No one except Esa seemed to notice him.
The pixie sucked in a deep breath but remained perfectly still.
When Imani didn’t move or do anything, he snorted and pawed the ground before bounding another ten paces and turning to look at her.
“Do you want us to follow you?” Imani blinked. That seemed to be what he was trying to signify.
Someone approached from behind them, their footsteps crunching the leaves, and the stag ran.
Frustrated, Imani turned to snap at this person, but it was Zadie.
Imani watched the stag through narrowed eyes. Pointing in the direction of the creature, Imani whispered, “It’s that way.”
All Zadie did was nod. Then she turned on her heel to presumably direct their party down the tight path the stag had run toward. Why she believed Imani, Imani didn’t know—maybe there was some trust growing between her and the old nymph witch.
Imani rubbed the blue leaf sigil on her wrist, remembering the red stag that lived beneath the illusion, and again that eerie feeling passed through her.
This place was strange, indeed.
The stag led them through a narrow winding path that didn’t look well-used. No one else had seen the animal, but Imani insisted and Zadie shut the grumblings of the travel party up with a look.
It felt good to have someone believe in her regarding such an odd, instinctive inclination. But Imani was sure she was correct, and they soon emerged from the forest to a small town nestled in the rocks scattered along the coastline.
The whispering echoed louder inside Imani’s head, almost sounding like it was calling her name. She felt it everywhere.
Death.
There were people dying here, and they had woken up her shadows.
A surge of power rose up in her chest. Her shadows were growing stronger.
Death called to her, and it sounded like dozens of souls screaming out in a crescendo of sorrow.
But where? Is it some kind of sickness or plague? What am I walking into?
They entered the village, heading to the inn where the master witches and royal entourage would stay. The rest of the traveling party would camp on the outskirts of the town near the forest.
Imani lingered outside while they unpacked the trunks and their supplies. She began wandering around outside the inn, taking in the sights of the town.
The homes had lights burning in them, giving them a cozy look.
They were timber-framed, crooked from age.
Many of the walls and roofs were decorated with seashells, and dark water glittered all around.
Imani breathed in the briny air. This was a true sea kingdom, and knowing what inhabitants it housed made Imani nervous.
When she lifted her head, she found a woman was staring at her.
The young woman greeted Imani with an unwavering, steely gaze.
Her irises were so fair that they melted into the whites of her eyes, leaving pinpoint dark pupils watching her in an assessing stare.
Soot and blood painted her cheeks, her white braids tangled and dirty.
A coat that had once been blue hung from her shoulders.
Now it was so spattered with red that it edged on purple, the stains crawling over the heart sigil on her lapel.
Imani peered back, but after a few beats, she shifted uncomfortably. The woman still didn’t relent.
Then, without a word, she turned and started walking toward the forest.
Just like the stag, Imani had the distinct feeling the woman wanted her to follow. Curiosity got the best of her, and Imani’s feet were soon trailing behind the woman. She had nowhere to be until dinner, anyway.
Staying about fifty paces behind, Imani felt a little bizarre stalking after this strange woman in the middle of the afternoon.
Her shadows were hissing and crying out inside her mind the closer they got to the edge of the forest. The wooded area was where her magic had started waking up earlier, too.
Just past the tree line, a barbed metal fence stood tall, nestled among branches. Magic tingled against her fingertips, itching for her wand.
Imani craned her neck up to see how high it went—too high. It would be impossible to climb with the barbs. When Imani glanced around again, the woman in blue was gone.
Imani stepped carefully forward until she could reach her hands out and touch the fence.
She gasped.
It wasn’t what was above her that she should have been looking at—it was below.
A huge trench with a maze of dirt-lined pathways was dug deep into the earth.
Men and women of all kinds were holding wands and casting at the soil, slowly enchanting it to reveal some kind of ore or metal that they would then drop into a bucket near them.
Their tunnels went farther into the forest, gnarled tree roots exposed as they dug deeper into the ground. Some trees had been cut down and removed entirely. Imani couldn’t look away.
She saw many with pointed ears, including Drow elves; darker, paler-skinned elves, possibly dwarves; but she also saw rounded ears, probably shifters and sirens. They all looked dirty, ragged, and far too slim to be healthy.
And death. She sensed death here, as many of their souls were clamoring to be released. It was as if they were calling to Imani to drag them from their bodies, to set them free.
What are all these witches doing here?
Catwalks covered the farthest end, at the deepest part of the forest. A few men in impeccable clothes walked along the planks, pointing and speaking to each other in some form of a serious conversation.
Standing amongst them, wand in hand, was the Serpent Prince. He held up his hand to one of them then leaned over the side of the walkway, pointing his wand at someone. Imani couldn’t see what was going on, but seconds later, a peppery smell hit her nose.