Chapter 35
Rolling his eyes, and with a predatory tilt of his head, Kiran obeyed. He pointed his wand lazily at them, and a female voice flitted into one of her ears. But Imani couldn’t turn to see who it belonged to. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the prince’s.
“… the doraca are the voices of the dead from the Under.”
“Yes, but they didn’t attack her.”
“Then what do you call her almost dying?”
“Setting them free.” It was Zadie who answered, her voice grim.
With that, Kiran broke Imani’s stare to look at the nymph witch, suspicion marring his brows.
“You look like you died,” Esa said, observing Imani from a few feet back.
“That’s a comforting thought.” Imani pushed herself to her knees and grabbed her cloak from the ground next to her. “What are you doing here?”
“I have business in the Under with a death angel,” was all she muttered.
Imani didn’t question it, but so many filtered through her mind. Why? With a death angel? Imani had only read about death angels in stories to scare children. Unlike the beautiful, kind angels of the Upper, they were terrifying creatures that maintained order in the chaos that was the Under.
She shuddered, but locked her fear down tight.
While it was no longer winter here, Imani realized it was eerily similar to the area around the other slip. A religious altar for the Fabric was here, surrounded by trees, but it was in much better repair than the other.
Kiran stepped up to the altar in the center of the two dozen monolithic stone archways. The moon was high in the sky, and Imani took in the vast array of lights on display above. They were no longer in their realm, and the magic here didn’t seem as broken as theirs.
Wand tapping against the stone, Kiran began muttering a spell to himself.
With his other hand, he started drawing shapes into the air …
and his fingers began to illuminate. Imani watched him quickly trace a series of straight and curved lines into the empty space in front of him then watched as they began to light up and glow, soft and green.
Finally, the prince drew a circle around the area of shapes he had just finished, and he pressed the palm of his hand against it.
It was incredible to watch him perform such unique, unheard of magic.
But, at first, nothing happened.
Imani broke the silence. “What are we waiting for?”
The prince looked at her for a long, hard moment then back at Zadie. “The high sentinel of the death angels. He was supposed to meet us. I have to imagine he should be here soon.”
So, things weren’t going to plan, and it didn’t appear Kiran was simply leaving Imani to go about his business like he’d mentioned before. He wanted her for something else, that fucking liar. Her hand tightened around her wand again.
A buzzing began in the background; a low-level hum at first, and then it grew more pervasive until Imani was practically clutching her ears.
Kiran slid a blade from his back and held it; his wand in one hand, the sword in the other. He shifted his feet and motioned for everyone to get their wands out. He was anxious. He hadn’t anticipated this part, and Imani found herself oddly excited for what was to come.
Until she saw more shadows blacking out the moon and swooshes hitting the treetops above.
With solid drops, three women appeared before them, magic twisting and cracking around their hands holding two blades. All wore fierce black armor and were similar in size and looks with minuscule variations.
“Furies,” Kiran muttered. “Here to kill us for trespassing into the world of the dead when we are, in fact, alive, as is their duty. A bit much to send furies for such a crime, but the Under is in disarray right now.”
One fury shook her head and pointed at him. “You will not pass where you do not belong, living ones.”
A black zap of lightning cracked from her fingers, aiming to hit Kiran square in the chest. He blocked it with his wand, and with it a chain reaction was set off. The other two furies dove to the sides to attack Esa and Zadie head-on.
Kiran struggled against the furies’ lightning attack, grunting as he blocked each pulse before managing to turn to Imani through gritted teeth. “Imani, come; show them your mark.” He seemed to be struggling to pull up his own sleeve.
Imani, enraged at Kiran being attacked while being civil, charged forward and was suddenly ensconced in shadows. Imani moved so quickly in shadow form that, in the next second, she materialized behind one of the furies with her wand at the creature’s neck.
“Cease this senseless attack,” Imani hissed, “and call the high sentinel of the death angels.”
Despite the attacks still happening around them from her companions, the fury froze. “You have the magic of this realm.”
“I am of this realm,” Imani growled, ripping up the sleeve of her tunic where her red brands gleamed in the moonlight. This. This was why Kiran had brought her along. He was truly a magnificent liar.
Imani felt betrayed yet proud he had been able to pull off such a skilled manipulation. That man was a menace—a brilliant menace—but he knew how to get what he wanted.
She could enter when he could not. He’d wanted this deal with her not because she was a Norn elf, but because she was something else. The second he’d seen her red brands, he’d put this plan into motion.
Underestimating Kiran, as always, was stupid.
It infuriated her that she couldn’t hold her own as an equal against him. She must find the Drasil. Otherwise, Zadie was right; he’d use her until she was a husk of nothing.
The lead fury shouted something in a language Imani didn’t understand, and the others paused their fighting. But not before a gash sliced across Esa’s chest so deep she collapsed backward.
Another shout from the lead fury pulled the three of them together, and they stood waiting, presumably to take them to the high sentinel.
Esa gasped as she took in the spreading blood across her chest.
Kiran’s voice was flat. “She can’t travel like that.”
Imani glared at him. “Heal her.”
He clenched his jaw. “I can’t. Not right now, at least.”
“Because you already expended too much healing me? That sounds like bullshit,” Imani snapped.
Kiran didn’t reply. Instead, he and Zadie exchanged a look before Zadie nodded, but Imani knew she was correct.
“I will take her back to wait at the slip and do what I can to staunch the bleeding. But hurry. This puts a limit on our time here. We will be missed by now and need to get back to your father in a few days to keep up the ruse of Imani’s illness.”
“No.” Esa struggled. “I need what I came for, and I will get it.”
“I said I would take you here, I never said I’d help you afterward,” Kiran replied.
Esa let out a roar, but then she stilled and hissed when Zadie pressed her hand onto the wound. Ripping her shirt, Zadie tied it tight around the wound then helped Esa stand. They hobbled away into the trees, disappearing altogether.
Imani turned to Kiran. “You broke a deal with Esa. You said you’d take her to the Under, and now whatever task she needs to accomplish is incomplete.”
A dark look fell over the prince’s face as he shrugged.
“I brought her here. I can’t be blamed when she’s injured.
” He stared at Imani a moment longer. “Besides, I think what she wants can be achieved in a different way, and I intend to help her do so, just not today. Zadie and Esa were holding us back.”
“Why? Zadie and Esa helped us against the furies.”
“It’s true what the furies said; some of us don’t belong here. But they listen to you because of your red brands.” With those cryptic words, he sheathed his sword.
“Take me to him. I know he’s expecting us,” she sneered.
The leader narrowed her eyes at the order but grabbed her hand, marching them to where the other furies stood, waiting.
They trekked through the woods for five minutes before reaching the apex of the large white temple.
All three furies stood outside. “He’s in the atrium, praying. If he’s expecting you, the interruption will be fine.”
Without even a look at them, Kiran strode forward.
The temple was cool inside, as if made to perfectly capture the breeze.
Imani admired the hieroglyphics and ancient writing on the walls, wondering what mysteries they held.
She marveled at the pristine condition of the structure.
The people of the Under still held the utmost respect for the Fabric.
It had hardly sunk in that she had traveled to another realm.
At the center of the temple stood six statues, and a man standing in front of them.
“Mateus,” Kiran said in greeting.
Imani’s mouth almost fell open upon seeing a male death angel. All children were told to fear the death angels, as they were said to be the guardians of the Under.
Midnight-black hair was tied at the nape of his neck, and large, discerning, black-violet eyes took in her form. Examined her.
She studied him right back.
He was gorgeous—intimidating, but beautiful, nonetheless.
He didn’t turn to acknowledge her or Kiran. “Prince Kiran. You return at last,” he said with his back to them.
“Apologies for interrupting your prayer. Your furies are quite persistent with their duties to guard the slip.”
“They do as they’re ordered,” was all the angel said.
After a moment of silence, the death angel eventually turned to face them. “These are not for prayer, you know.” He motioned to the six statues. “But the Six Saints remind us what it means to truly dream … and realize those dreams. Inspiring, no?”
“Quite,” Kiran said blandly, but Imani was fascinated. She didn’t know much about the old religion of the Six Saints, but she knew her grandmother had believed in them, and Ara had rarely believed in anything.
This wasn’t the time for questions, though.
Kiran continued, “Our accord is almost complete.” He motioned to Imani.