Chapter 37
The taste of blood on her tongue reminded her of Malis and how she didn’t hate the coppery tang.
She swallowed hard and cracked open her eyes.
The first thing she saw were splices of golden darkness.
Wisps of smoke undulated through the air above her, shrouding parts of the night sky from her view.
A blackness covered her sideways vision.
Her fingers, covered in more black spider-webbing, touched something soft, and Imani almost jumped until she pulled it closer and realized it was part of her cloak, stained in an inky, sticky substance.
Blood. Her palm was soaked where she held it.
With a slow lift, her full hand came into view. Veins blackened up her arms. More of her magic curled around her wrists and hands.
She’d killed him—a death angel, the high sentinel. Looking around, she saw nothing but black blood. He was gone.
A shadow, not her own, stood above her.
Kiran. And he looked furious.
His anger didn’t seem to come from a place of regret at missing a cruel opportunity to torture the death angel. It seemed to be pointed at her, and her mouth fell open in shock.
All Imani could do was look around, confused. Was he …? Was he angry that she’d killed the angel? She had just saved their damn lives.
“Killing him when we had the chance was our only choice,” she said, pushing herself to stand. “You should’ve done it the second he gave you the answers you sought.”
“Maybe you’re right. I should have.” The gleam in his eyes transformed to a deep, heated rage.
A shiver lanced down Imani’s back; she could practically taste the violence misting off him. As though the Mad Prince was enraged that Imani would even suggest such a thing. He threatened her in one breath then looked at her like he’d tear out the throat of anyone who came close. It infuriated her.
“How dare you question my actions? Esa is bleeding out by the slip, and you got what you needed.”
“I could’ve gotten more out of him,” he snapped.
“About how to take control of the horde?” Imani didn’t even know what that was, but she threw it back in his face, anyway.
“Yes. And I’m going in practically blind without more details from him.”
“What is this horde?” Imani wanted to calm him down, distract him.
Kiran grinned. It was all poison and knives. “Every single breedless beast and animal without a sigil in the Under is part of the horde.”
“And this horde king controls them?”
“He is the horde.”
The magnitude of what Kiran intended to do hit her hard.
“You want to take this horde army for yourself and use them to take over Essenheim,” she whispered.
“Indeed. I intend to bring them right to my father’s doorstep for him.”
With this horde, the Niflheim army would be unstoppable.
“What does this have to do with me?”
Kiran hesitated. “I want to be honest with you,” he murmured.
“Then be honest with me.” She couldn’t hide the frustration that bled through.
Kiran grabbed her wrist and tugged up her sleeve. All her brands were on display. He pointed to the red ones—all of them. “He asked me to bring a female high-bred Eldritch elf who wields doraca magic to him. They are exceedingly rare—rarer than a High-Bred Norn.”
“What? Why?” Imani whispered.
“Because any high-bred Eldritch elf descends from one of the Six, and at least one Under monarch has always ruled with doraca magic.” He ran his fingers over her heartmate markings.
“Unlike our realm, where the high sentinels counsel the monarch, the Six are noble families who govern the Under beneath the monarchs. They’re the descendants of the Six Saints. ”
“The angels that fell from the Upper realms?”
“Ah, so you’re familiar with the story?”
She shrugged. “Everyone is familiar with the Saints, the angels of the Upper realm who created the Mesial realm and death itself.”
“Yes, they created mortal life and, without knowing it, also created death, causing the Under to burst into an uncontrolled existence. Neither realm was one the Upper could control, so they cast out the Six and forced them to rule the Under. And the mortals revered them for creating their life, but since the First Realm War sealed the doorways, the Under has since become a place to be feared. Something which the Upper is loath to correct with more and more mortals worshiping the golden angel and deity breeds above.”
Imani remembered the zealots who advocated for banishing magic. That was what the Upper would want … it would be easier to control the Mesial realm if no one possessed any magic.
It was all too much to take in.
“Is my family even my family? Is my sister my sister?”
“You’re still half-Norn. But what I think, based on what I’ve pieced together, is that your father is someone powerful in one of the Six families. Maybe even the high sentinel of the Eldritch elves himself. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been hidden like you were.”
Imani’s mind didn’t pause to savor the moment of clarity between them. It skipped ahead to the other question without delay.
“Why?”
“Because, with you being a high-bred Eldritch elf, and your doraca marking, you’re a female candidate for the Under’s heir apparent.
Unlike in the Mesial realm, it’s not so easy for a potential heir apparent to live unchecked.
For the past fifty years, since the king and queen disappeared, Under heir apparent candidates have been hunted and killed by the death angels and their followers looking to regain their power under the old regime. ”
Imani couldn’t breathe. “Does this mean my father is still alive?” She grabbed Kiran by the collar of his shirt. “Take me to him.”
He laughed, cold and detached, removing her hands from his shirt. “You think he’d welcome you with open arms? If he is who I think he is, you’re in for a rude awakening.”
Imani gawked at Kiran, unable to comprehend she had a father who was alive and possibly extremely powerful. She must meet him. He would certainly be on her side—a powerful ally in a world where she felt constantly alone.
She continued, “Have you met him? Ara might have. She spoke about my father often. At the time, I thought she meant my adoptive father, but now I don’t think she meant her son.”
“No, I haven’t. But let’s just say I’ve heard that the high sentinel of the Eldritch elves and my father have more in common than not.”
That thought brought on a new rush of nerves Imani didn’t need, but she ignored them. Even though her father had left her, he’d done it to protect her. She was practically begging for Kiran to take her to meet the only family who hadn’t betrayed her.
But then it struck her. “He’d hate me because I’m half-Norn?”
“No, I believe he loved your mother.” He grabbed her face.
“But you’d take him by surprise. And your father probably hates surprises.
Most people in power do. In fact, I have a feeling all you’ve done since you existed was surprise him.
” He paused. “There are many times when I’m in utter awe of you. ”
Every part of Imani stilled. Kiran was telling her the truth—she was sure of it. But he’d known this all along and kept it from her.
Her lip curled into a snarl at his pretty words.
She shoved him away. He barely moved.
“What makes you think you can control this horde after you kill the king? Maybe he was lying and control will go to someone else.”
“Now that is a wonderful question, one I would have asked if you hadn’t been so fucking impulsive.”
They came to stand face-to-face, within arm’s length but neither reaching for the other.
The strings that joined them wound them ever nearer.
Hearts, lips, navels. Closer, still not touching.
The air between them was a dead place, as though both of them were carrying their hopelessness before them, hoping for the other to dash it away.
It felt like they held everything they had to say—every desperate thing—and didn’t want to say any of it.
“I can’t let you do this, Kiran.” Imani could barely get the words out, but her protective instincts for her home rose to the surface. She couldn’t let him use this horde to destroy Essenheim.
“Are you going to stop me?”
“I’m going to try.” Her shadows began gathering around her shoulders, swirling her hair.
“Your shadows can’t hurt me, my darling,” he murmured, twirling one of the strands of her hair around his finger.
In the next instant, Imani reeled back then slammed her fist into the side of his face, and went invisible.
Shocked, all Kiran did was grab the side of his face, cursing her.
He recovered quickly and pointed his wand at her. “Don’t move,” he said, his voice imbued with a layer of the binding. Her invisibility illusion fell away as that one command demanded a response, and she froze.
Imani’s glare was cold enough to turn rain to snow.
“Back up to the tree.”
Sidestepping a root, she obeyed. Within seconds, her back hit the bark of the tree trunk. The bruises from where the death angel had kicked her smarted.
Kiran stalked forward, wand still pointed at her. He smiled. As usual, there was something off about it. Something not quite natural. He took a few moments just to stare, seeming to think his next words through.
Raising one hand, he wrapped his fingers around her throat—not hard enough to hurt, but enough for her to know that he could, should he wish it.
“Go home to Niflheim. The wyvern should be waiting at the slip now with Esa and Zadie.”
Imani tried to speak, but his hand tightened around her throat, ever so slightly.
She pursed her lips, and he leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers.
Their foreheads touched, his timbre almost vulnerable.
“I will tell you everything I know about your family when I return, my fearless darling. Now, go. I’ll see you soon. ”
Imani shook her head, jaw tight as she said, “No—”
His back was already facing her as he stalked away. An almighty predator on the hunt, Kiran didn’t utter another word before he disappeared into the trees.