Chapter 45
With a hand on her hip, wand in the other, she strode into what appeared to be the king’s study, and promptly stopped. On the corner of his desk, Magnus’s head sat. Juices dripped from it. His sallow skin resembled a melted candle. Imani’s lips pinched together, and she quickly exited the room.
Dread gripped her heart. What kind of mood would she find Kiran in? She wasn’t afraid of him anymore, but she didn’t have the patience for his games.
Imani reached the bedroom and found the door slightly cracked. Carefully, she pushed it open.
Her stomach clenched so hard she nearly vomited.
A lantern burned bright on the bedside table, and when he raised his head, her breath stalled. She hated how handsome he was. So handsome it was hard to tear her gaze away. But Imani forced herself to look upon the woman in the bed, a female elf with dark hair and green eyes. A dwarf, to be sure.
Pain sliced through her chest. Why did she care? Imani meant what she’d said earlier—she didn’t give two fucks about where and who he was with anymore. They were done.
Yet, an acid-like sensation instantly melted her insides.
It was humiliating. That was it. That was the only reason why Imani felt like she was at the point of combusting right now.
She could never trust him—never be with him.
Ara had taught her that freedom and dignity came before anything else, and if anyone tried to tarnish either of those things, Imani should lash out.
Indeed, Kiran had shown her who he was again and again.
A sinking feeling took over her body as she realized that Zadie had probably been right about his plans for her. Besides Imani’s magic, and unless he wanted to breed her, Imani was meaningless to him. And she’d rather die than let him do the latter to her.
He had merely tossed her aside like nothing they’d shared mattered. Was everything over the past few months a simple dalliance for him? A way for him to exert control over her in another way?
Imani couldn’t find the words to speak, so she just stared, unrelenting, at his beautiful face.
His expression didn’t shift, but Imani felt the iciness in it. The cold, imperious royal had replaced the warm lover from a few nights before.
She pierced him with a similar look of her own, holding his intense stare, and didn’t back down. Instead, she steeled herself, thankful for his treachery—it was the last time she’d fall for Kiran’s lies.
“What day is this?” the king asked, dragging his hands through his messy hair, not even trying to hide the female in his bed.
Of all the things Imani had expected him to say, that wasn’t one of them.
Ignoring him, Imani turned toward the hearth, wishing she could dive right into the flames and let them consume her as readily as Kiran’s dragon fire.
Behind her, she could hear murmurs of whispers between the lovers. Shortly thereafter, a door shut.
Imani turned and glared at him.
Alone and shirtless, Kiran stood and stretched languidly, like he wasn’t slowly killing her on the inside. “I told my guards I wasn’t to be disturbed.”
“You should know by now that things like guards and locks can’t stop me,” she replied, not remembering any guards. It occurred to her that they hadn’t been there. The nymph witch had played her and sent them away. Zadie had wanted her to find Kiran like this—to prove a point.
A smile tugged at his mouth. “Zadie didn’t try to stop you from coming down here?”
“She tried, but we have unfinished business to discuss.” Imani kept her face impassive, despite her thrashing heart. “I thought … I thought we had an understanding.”
He laughed like she was a fool. “You thought wrong. That’s over now that I’m king.”
“So are we just done then?” Despite her resolve earlier, Imani felt like she was cracking from the inside out. How could he be so unfeeling?
“Yes, we’re done being anything to each other when people are watching. But fear not, I’ll still see you in private once I’m mated.”
Imani couldn’t move. Her anger was like a living, breathing thing threatening to wrap around her body a thousand times until it crushed her into dust.
He was a lunatic.
Imani didn’t fight the tears anymore and let them fall.
“Imani.” His voice was quiet but held a commanding edge. “Say something. You’re upset.”
“Be your mistress? It’s laughable. The whole country knows I’m your heartmate—your real heartmate.” Imani let out a humorless chuckle while Kiran stared solemnly, as though his words were reasonable and perfectly normal instead of outrageously insulting.
He shrugged and gave her a bored look that made her seethe more. “Zadie is right; you could never be my queen. People understand heartmates can’t always be together. We have other plans for you, though. I figured you’d understand all this—you’re a smart girl.”
A deep silence permeated the room.
It dawned on Imani then just how much she had been willing to give up for Kiran.
Disgust shuddered through her.
She quickly began reworking things in her mind, reverting back to what she’d originally intended to do before her ill-conceived notions of being together had made her temporarily insane.
How could she hope to right things with Essenheim when she was over here, hidden away like Kiran wanted? It was impossible.
Once again, Kiran had almost made her a fool. Almost. She’d never be subservient to him. Never.
She was a queen—or soon to be the queen of Essenheim once she handled Tanyl—and this disrespect would not stand.
Imani felt a phantom knife in her back, one that she’d felt before, and it hit her the same way.
Despite being from a different betrayal, Kiran was still that same person.
Imani never wanted to feel this way again, but she’d let her guard down, trusted someone, loved them.
He’d tricked her—and everyone—but after everything she gave of herself to him …
the lies he told to her were astounding.
His breed, his decade-long ploy against the throne …
his lies about his heartmate—her. Massive, deep lies.
Not even Imani could have pulled off the deception Kiran had.
He had played his part so well, even privately in front of her, confusing her and everyone else with his act.
Maybe Imani had acted rashly, unfairly judging him, considering she’d lied about many things, too.
But she couldn’t help feeling that Kiran had truly played her more than anyone else.
Like a foolish idiot, she actually didn’t want to take advantage of him.
She wanted to protect him, help him … She loved him …
and hadn’t even known he was her heartmate.
He had kept it from her, made her think he loved her back, tricked her into thinking he felt the same.
He didn’t. He never had. He had only used their bond against her without her knowing.
It didn’t matter what she was to him—heartmate, friend, ally—his heart had long ago turned cold and dead, and all she represented was a means to an end for him.
The bitter truth of this hit her again, and the ghostly knife twisted painfully in her back.
Deep inside, he was the monster she’d always known was in there. They should never have called him the Mad Prince. He was the Serpent Prince through and through.
The Serpent King now.
And she would have to revert to her original plan to kill him.
Curling her hands into fists, Imani fought the waves of nerves turning over inside her. He had used and deceived her, but at least she had been smart enough to keep her biggest secrets from him. Thank the Saints she hadn’t admitted everything to him.
They were on level playing ground now.
“After all your lies, I’d never want to be anything to you, anyway,” Imani supplied thickly, breaking the silence.
The tic in his jaw pulsed and strained at her words. She wanted to scoff. He had the audacity to be angry at that statement when it was he who had thrown her away first?
Fuck him.
She flipped her hand, palm up, and pressed her wand into his sigil brand on her wrist. It disgusted her. With a small swipe, she cast a severing spell and ripped a clean circle into her skin. Then, with two fingers, she grabbed the piece of skin and tore it from her body.
The pain was exquisite, but she knew the flaying was meaningless when it came to heartmate brands. Kiran lived in her soul, not her skin.
“It would seem you finally fucked—I mean, slithered—your way to the very top, my darling.” Imani threw the flesh at him and turned toward the door. “You’ll get your wish, though—I won’t be an inconvenience any longer.”
After a blur of movement, he was in front of her, blocking her way.
He gently grabbed her wrist and examined it.
His brows knit together as he traced around the bleeding, open wound there.
Despite her protests and firm tugs to get her arm back, he placed the skin back on her body then moved his hand over her wound. The skin healed quickly.
He pressed a kiss to her wrist. “You’re not inconvenient at all now that I’m king,” he whispered, rubbing small circles over their sigils. “I can do whatever I want. Things will just be a little different than they were.”
What a fucking liar.
His grip loosened enough, and Imani pulled her wrist back, cradling it against her chest. It throbbed.
He reached for her again, but she pushed past him.
“Well, it’s inconvenient for me,” she hissed. “I thought I could believe in you—be your partner—but I want nothing to do with you anymore. I can’t trust you. In fact, I can’t even stand the sight of you.”
Before she reached the door, he stalked forward, grabbed her shoulders, turned her around, then slapped her across the face. Imani gasped, so surprised that she didn’t even reach up to put her hand over her stinging cheek.
“Wake up, Imani. I am the Niflheim king,” Kiran said, voice low and deadly as he pushed off the wall. “Do you think I’m going to beg for your company and respect? I don’t need either of them. Your fear will do. Bow.”