Chapter 36
“You think I don’t know when I’m being used?” Imani asked the death angel standing before her.
They both turned to glance at the prince.
“Yes, I can imagine your choice of lovers has caused you problems. And yet, you come here willingly with him.”
“Your use of the word ‘willingly’ has a loose definition in this instance,” she lied, and the male smirked as if Imani was delusional.
Those dark eyes searched Imani’s before he exhaled. Turning, he tilted his head at Kiran, who continued growling the low, angry warning of violence as he watched them. Mateus smiled. “My, my, I greatly unsettle your heartmate with my proximity to you.”
She laughed darkly. “That bastard isn’t anything to me.” Imani turned to see an increasingly unhinged Kiran prowling around the barrier, throwing spells at it. She kept a side-eye on him, knowing he was the more insane of the two.
He might also be more powerful. More deadly.
Besides herself.
She reached out with her shadows to test the barrier the death angel had made. It held firm and unforgiving, but Kiran was attacking it relentlessly.
The death angel slid his attention to Kiran. “My magic won’t last long against the prince. It’s unfortunate that someone like him—so volatile—was given such miraculous gifts. But while His Highness is terrifying and powerful, I do not yield to him, and I have questions for you.”
“Who do you yield to then?” Imani asked.
“The Wardens of the Night.”
“Aren’t there monarchs of this realm?” Imani furrowed her brow in confusion. She thought all three realms had monarchs.
“The Wardens of the Night are our monarchs, but as I said before, this realm is in crisis. Our monarchs have been missing for some time.”
“Missing? Not dead then?”
“Not dead,” he replied with an edge to his voice.
“How would you know if they’re missing?”
“Besides the fact that I’ve seen one of them with my own eyes, no others have come forward with the power of a monarch to claim their rightful place as ruler of the Eldheim Kingdom—or the Under, as you call it—thus we can only assume both monarchs still live.”
“Unless …. unless the new monarchs simply don’t want to rule and are in hiding,” Imani said. Either way, it seemed the Under was without leadership. She continued, “Who rules this place then?”
“Someone who doesn’t deserve it,” he snarled before turning to look back at the prince. Kiran stepped back, lowering his wand as he watched on, pacing. Stalking back and forth, watching. Assessing.
Then, with a flash, a loud crack sounded, drips of darkness and magic bursting onto the ground from the shadowed shield. Angrier than she’d ever seen him, Kiran’s eyes were wild as magic poured out of him, intent on achieving his goal.
“Is that who Kiran wants to see? Who he wants something from?”
He gave her a curious look then smirked. “He’s lying to you about so many things.”
“I am well aware of this fact.”
“Indeed.” He paused.
Another boom of Kiran’s magic shook the ground and barrier, his face twisted in cold fury.
She frowned, flinging her own darkness into the shield, then turned to face the death angel, who spoke.
“I will answer two more of your questions if you’ll comply with one request. Then we’ll go and deal with your impatient prince.”
Imani didn’t hesitate. She opened her arms and held them out. “What breed am I? And what type of magic do I possess from this realm?”
“You’re a high-bred Eldritch elf, and you possess what we call doraca magic—or death magic.”
Doraca. Imani had dozens more questions, but that word rang in her head. She felt a slight sting of betrayal remembering that Zadie had said this word earlier. She knew and could have told Imani. But she and Zadie had no true loyalty to each other. Zadie worked for Kiran, after all.
Another crack spider-webbed across the dome of the shield. Kiran was getting closer. He was ruthless. Unrelenting.
The death angel didn’t seem too concerned.
“Like your realm, Eldheim has been growing wild with instability, especially without our monarchs,” he commented, glancing around as if taking in the day.
“The Fabric’s instability and ‘Fabric Events,’ as you call them, have been preventing souls from passing over as they should, and it’s wreaking havoc on the delicate balance we maintain between worlds.
Without the monarchs, no one is working on a solution, and people are defying death. ”
Imani’s heart stuttered. She blinked in shock that such a thing was even possible. “That’s … that’s impossible. No one escapes the Under.”
“Many have and will.”
“But how?”
“In several ways. Breeds from the Under are slipping into the Mesial and Upper realms. Souls stuck in the mortal and immortal realms are remaining there instead of moving through the cycle as they should. And what’s even more concerning, we’re seeing new, dangerous magic pushing lifespans beyond the natural timeline. ”
It had never occurred to her that the problems with their Fabric would seep into the other realms, but she shouldn’t have been surprised. Everything used to be interconnected, and technically, it still was in many ways. More ways than she’d realized.
“What’s to be done to fix the Fabric here?” Her voice was steady, but she was shaking with animosity at Kiran getting closer. She needed answers. “You must be working on a solution.”
“We need our monarchs back in place before that can happen, and I intend to return them to their thrones.” The death angel had been slowly making his way to Imani, and he was directly in front of her now.
He crowded her with a hungry look. “The first potential options to be found in a decade, and I now have you both in my possession.”
Backing away, Imani held up her wand. “What do you mean? Why has Kiran brought me here?”
Imani struggled, but the death angel grabbed her and held her firm, continuing. “Our current usurper rules alone, but without the horde, his power is constantly in question.”
Horde? Imani had never heard that term before. She had no idea what it was, but she aimed to find out.
“But your monarchs still live?”
“Yes, and I intend to save them before it’s too late. Which means I need to take care of threats.”
Imani’s face hardened.
He jerked his chin at Kiran. “And that man right there … is a threat.” Then he turned back to Imani. “And so are you.”
Before Imani could argue that she wasn’t anything to him, he shoved her—hard. She staggered backward, barely able to keep her feet under herself.
He pointed his wand at her, right between the eyes. “Let’s see how your untrained magic holds up against mine.”
In the next instant, Imani’s back slammed against the barrier and a ring of fire encased her body, searing her flesh. Kiran snarled as a sob exploded from her lips. Tears burned her eyes, rolling down her cheeks while she coughed.
The death angel laughed wickedly. Whatever bargain the high sentinel had between him and Kiran seemed moot. She had been brought here to die, and if she read between the lines correctly, so was Kiran. Someone had duped the Serpent Prince himself.
Or had Kiran expected this attack?
She didn’t have time to ponder the questions. Terror shot down her spine, and she pushed forward, stumbling as her shadows exploded inside the ward. Darkness fell in an instant, cloaking the vicinity in night, choking the fire and any of the furies unlucky enough to be in the radius.
Panting, she let her shadows writhe around her as the death angel brought forth another wave of fire, illuminating his body like a halo.
Imani screamed and backed herself farther into her darkness. With shut eyes, she held her wand up and let every barrier that she’d ever erected around her magic down.
It began building around her, the whispers growing louder.
A chorus of hissing forced Imani’s eyes open again. She whipped her gaze around the barrier. The corpses of the furies she’d just killed crawled and banged against the shield. The shrieks and shouts from the dead surrounded them, trying to get inside.
Did I do that?
Her darkness had been too slow, though.
Mateus snapped his wand in her direction, and pain burst behind her eyes like shattering lanterns. Imani didn’t have time to recover before someone’s boot kicked her ribs—hard.
Her cheek throbbed, her side screamed in protest, but she managed to get up, even if she was slightly hunched over.
Imani threw magic at him, whatever burst from her as her shadows gathered into darkness.
He barely noticed, grinning as he blocked it, before pushing his hands out, forcing her to the ground again.
He continued to beat Imani until she was coughing up fluids.
Gasping, she blinked past the throbbing in her face while blood poured from her nose and mouth, covering the dirt.
Her shoulder sent a burning pain radiating through her body.
She let out a silent whimper, incapable of gasping a full breath.
She gulped greedily for air, unable to get enough into her lungs past the pain ripping through her.
Where is Kiran? Frantic, she hated to admit it, but she needed his help.
“Well, you are the right girl.” Mateus’s deep voice pulled Imani from her panic.
He reached down, gripping her hair until her eyes watered.
“Your magic is strong, but I’ve been hunting your kind for a long time.
There’s so few left now. Everything’s coming together.
The time is right, and our king waits for me, ready to attack.
I will see our monarchs back in power as they belong, without any potential heir apparent to oppose them,” he snarled, snapping Imani’s head forward.
Her forehead cracked into a tree, pain exploding through her skull, the impact drawing tears into her eyes.
Her hand went to the source of her injury, coming back red. Blood dripped from the trunk’s rough wood.
The death angel’s boot struck again, forcing a cry from her lips, flattening her out on the ground again.