The serpent prince: first chapter

The smell of ash, and magic, and death choked the air as the guards and servants set up a makeshift camp near the Niflheim border.

The traveling party had chosen a spot near Imani’s home village, Kishion. Much larger and with more crossings, Imani was relieved they wouldn’t take the familiar bridge she’d seen so many times growing up. 

Many of her dreams still featured the Riverlands, her mind forever stamped with the good memories she’d shared with her siblings and dead best friend, Riona—and the really, really bad ones with Malis and Grandmother Aralana.

Now, without her estranged siblings or Riona, she’d rather forget it altogether.

Imani stood on a knoll, watching the people work, and thought about the trials that had brought them here. Kiran and Saevel had pulled it off—they’d successfully stolen fifty of Essenheim’s most powerful witches … and killed the rest. Despite surviving, Imani shuddered at what awaited them in Niflheim’s harsh, nightmare lands. As cunning as he was, Kiran had a plan for the captive witches … but she had no idea what it could be.

It had been four days of hard traveling from the capital to the Riverlands, and four days for her to overthink everything that had happened between her and Tanyl in the carriage before their departure. Another mess she’d gotten herself into, among many at the moment. 

She shivered at her impending tasks: spying on the Illithianas, finding the Drasil, and killing the youngest Niflheim prince, after making him beg for his life on his knees. She was undecided about the first task, but she needed to complete the second one before embarking on the third, which she would. 

Determination pumped through her blood and seeped into her bones, although a kernel of unease still kept her from doing anything rash.

She still had no idea what her magic was capable of, nor was she any closer to finding the Drasil. She was stuck for the time being, and it grated on her. 

As she wandered around, doubt crept in. Could she do this? Everyone had bested her before when she’d been so naïve, and this was an entirely new kingdom, with its own dynamics, that she was entering.

Imani bit her lip, trying to calm her nerves. Part of her still felt like that helpless, magicless elf trapped in the cage in the back of her grandmother’s shop. Such deep-seated insecurities were difficult for her to simply forget—despite wishing she could. Especially after the trials she’d endured yet somehow had also failed, they were lingering.

Loneliness plagued her, as well. She’d never felt so alone, and in these moments, she wondered if her true father was out there somewhere. Who was he, and why hadn’t he come for her?

But she was powerful—she could feel it in her bones—and she would ignore these feelings of doubt and tap into her true potential, even if it killed her. Power was the key.

An approaching storm churned and rumbled above them. If it bothered anyone, they kept it to themselves. They usually dissipated once they reached the Essenheim borders, anyway, but it was still a sight to behold. 

Lightning cracked across the sky in Niflheim, a web of light that distorted any bits of the Fabric the citizens might have seen. Growing in intensity as it swept over the Niflheim mountains, the storm prepared to unleash a wave of destruction, and Imani wondered what hell they were going into.

While the Essenheim witches had the freedom to roam the camp, Imani could feel the guards watching their backs.

Soon, fires lit the camp’s perimeter, despite a steady rain attempting to thwart their efforts. The glowing fires offered some light against the darkening night and illuminated the angry, roiling sky on the horizon over the Niflheim border.

Imani’s chest tightened with anxiety, and her palms started sweating. They would be in the Southern Kingdom soon—a ruinous land marked for death by the Fabric. It took all her strength to steel her nerves and return to her tent.

She needed a plan and to harden her heart even further.

Esa and Imani shared a modest tent with thick rugs covering a raised floor and cots with soft mattresses. It was a standard accommodation for the Essenheim witches in the traveling party. Still, Imani was immensely grateful that it was nicer than the rudimentary shelters for the guards and servants. Those would be flooded by nightfall.

They quietly ate their supper to the sounds of pattering on the canvas, the mood still stilted after their argument earlier about Esa being Imani’s ally.

Imani didn’t trust a word out of the pixie’s mouth these days.

The flap ripped open, and a uniformed guard entered, a letter in hand. “Forgive me, ladies, but the prince sent me. I have something for Lady Aowyn.”

“Over here,” Imani ordered, nerves biting at her as she wondered what Kiran wanted.

“My lady,” the guard said, holding out the white envelope. He dipped into a bow before her then left, and Imani broke the bright red wax seal.

It was from Saevel, asking her to come to his tent in an hour.

Her stomach sank a little, but Imani didn’t have time to think about what he wanted or if his brother would be there. If she were to meet him and look presentable, she needed to start on her appearance immediately, after having traveled for three days.

Despite the tension between them, Esa—with her beautiful wings—graciously used her magic to clean Imani up and help her dress. Imani chose the subdued emerald gown that dipped in the front to reveal just a hint of her breasts, and only felt a prickle of sadness remembering that her sister had made it. The color made her long, silver hair sparkle, and her blue eyes were luminous against the green. Imani looked extra pale from the tribulations of the past few days, but she cast a light glamour to cover her facial scar, finger mutilations, and signs of exhaustion.

Again, her sister’s dress made her appear perfect. She looked regal and ready to face an arrogant prince.

After stepping into the rain, Imani buried deep into her cloak. Walking into the unknown made her want to hide, and that prickle of unease stayed stuck in her stomach. What did Saevel want with her? It settled deep in her gut the closer she walked toward the tents.

When she approached, she found the princes’ quarters were less a tent and more a series of elaborate rooms. It appeared Saevel occupied the larger half, so Imani knew Kiran took up the other half. Smoke drifted from the tops of his side, meaning the rooms were clearly occupied … and she couldn’t help but wonder what the mad prince was doing at that exact moment.

Lifting the tent flap, Imani stepped inside, and Saevel spotted her almost immediately. He rose and brushed past the guards to reach her. “Imani,” he said, stroking his hands down her arms and giving her a small smile. It made her shudder, and not from lust. She was nervous, but hid it behind a mask of indifference.

“Why did you need to see me?” Imani asked by way of greeting, taking in the room. It took all her mental strength to muster a cool, unaffected attitude about her.

“I want to know who you are feeding from now that Tanyl is gone.” Saevel didn’t mince words. She liked that about him.

Imani gave him a withering look before continuing to wander through the tent, sizing up the beautiful furniture and gorgeous rugs.

“I’m speaking about the fact that the binding from the ascension assessments keeping us from touching each other is gone,” he added with an annoyed look.

“And here I am, not even thinking about that now,” Imani lied. Her heart pounded at the image his words had put in her mind.

“Always with that lying mouth, little elf.” He locked his arm around Imani’s waist, crudely pulling her against him so she could feel how hard he was for her. Saevel really didn’t waste any time going after what he wanted, and again, she liked that about him.

But he still needed to learn some manners. She was done being used.

Irritated, Imani pulled back and shot him a fierce glare. “I didn’t give you permission to touch me, shifter.”

He inclined his head and gave her a slow, lazy smile. “My brother was right; you are delicious when you’re angry. I’m going to jerk off to this entire scene for days.”

“Your brother is truly a snake.”

“I am not disagreeing,” he said. “And because of that, I think some gratitude is in order.”

“Oh really?” Imani looked down her nose at him.

“Yes, really. Because I know that without my agreeing to that dangerous binding with him after the third assessment, you wouldn’t be here … you’d be dead.”

Imani arched a brow at him, pretending she was surprised by that statement, but she wasn’t. Kiran had said Saevel knew about their bargain, and the heir apparent wasn’t stupid. He would have known the queen had eyes to kill Imani.

Saevel wanted sex from Imani. She would need to tread carefully with this conversation, lest she lose the upper hand, because she needed information on what Kiran wanted with their binding, and this could be the perfect leverage.

“I would have figured out another way. I don’t owe you anything—I’ve given enough,” she bit out, wanting to appear strong.

Bright green eyes sparkled with desire as he ambled closer to her. His massive werebeast shifter body crowded her, and she instinctively leaned back. While still dark like Kiran’s, Saevel’s hair was slightly longer, giving him even more of a beastly look.

Saevel picked up the length of her braid, playing with it as he added, “I doubt you would have figured it out. Which is why you came crawling to my brother.” He paused and let her hair drop. “I want to make another deal; promise I can fulfill your needs and keep things discreet.”

More promises and deals she couldn’t trust. Would they ever end? 

She scoffed, but Saevel invaded her space, and it sent a shiver of something up her spine … Unease? Desire? 

“After everything you’ve done to me, why should I give you the time of day?”

“Besides the fact that I’m a prince, which should be reason enough, I know Tanyl asked you to spy on us,” he said plainly. “I can feed you pieces of information to pass along that will seem useful to him but protect you from being burned at the stake for betraying our country.”

His eyes were earnest. With such honest innocence glowing inside them, Imani speculated how much of the dirty work he had Kiran do. While intimidating and impulsive, under it all, Saevel’s spirit remained pure. Such a look would never pass over the elf prince’s face—Kiran destroyed those emotions in himself a long time ago—and she hated Saevel a little for it. Kiran was his own person and made his own choices, but his family had made him into the worst version of himself, of that she was certain.

“Your brother might be a snake, but you’re an asshole all the same,” she declared.

So much for treading carefully, Imani admonished herself.

“You can call me that and worse tonight, love … I just want you to feed from me.” He craned his neck down and kissed the sensitive spot beneath her ear. 

The feel of his lips made her arch her back. She forced the feeling away, however, and tried to twist out of his reach. He banded an arm around her waist and pulled her back to his broad chest again. Saevel’s dark hair fell over her eye as he kissed her cheek, and she recoiled a little.

A slapping sound came from another room next door, and Kiran’s harsh but lustful voice sounded from within. There was no doubt what was happening in the other room. Who was he with?

Imani froze as a shiver of curiosity rippled through her muscles. She clenched her fists to gain control. He was having sex with someone else. While some of her felt a stab of jealousy, she was mostly turned on. She made a split decision with a slow smile. 

“All right, I’ll give you what you want—sex for information—and it better be good.”

“The information or the sex?”

“Both.”

She shimmied out of her dress. Then, in only her lacy underthings, she stood with her hands on her hips and motioned Saevel forward.

While this hadn’t been her plan tonight, she felt an odd sense of satisfaction in taking control of her troublesome feelings for Kiran and ordering around the Niflheim heir apparent. It instilled some manner of self-confidence she so desperately needed at that moment. She hoped Kiran would hear and feel that same stab of jealousy. Petty, but she didn’t give a single fuck at the moment, not after hearing those moans from the other room.

Saevel’s face turned fierce and feral. With one hand, he freed himself from his trousers then ripped her slip off. And without any concern for her comfort, he rammed inside of her with a single, vicious thrust. The sound that left him was a mix of a human groan and a shifter rumble that vibrated through her chest.

He drove his hips against her body, pressing himself into her as far as he could go, trying to find a way even deeper inside her.

She spun around to give him more access.

The shifter prince snarled savagely, pulling her closer as he thrust in deeper from behind, his hips slapping against her. Imani used one of the beams as leverage to increase the pushback. 

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room. His cock pounded, and Imani moaned loudly, hoping the Serpent Prince could hear, before dropping her head as she soaked in the delicious friction.

She smiled to herself, imagining someone else behind her. Kiran. It hurt to admit she did not enjoy Kiran sleeping with other females. She remembered how hot her body had become when he’d kissed her that night of blood burning. Even just his big hands running down her soft skin had made her melt.

She looked back at Saevel. Why couldn’t she desire him in the same way? Still, it soothed something in her soul to show Kiran she was strong and unwilling to let her shell crack just because the Serpent Prince wanted to have a meaningless fuck. She could do the same. And if it got her what she needed—information—it was useful.

Saevel curled one of his hands around her shoulder, and he held her against him while he reached his other hand around and down, finding her clit. He massaged her, and his grunts of pleasure slithered across her flesh, heightening the rapture building within her body. 

He then pulled out and pushed her toward the bed. Imani stumbled a little then recovered and reached back for him. His growl was soft and sexy as he pushed her down and put his hands over her head on the bed then ground into her further.

His soul emanated heightened emotions and pleasure. She could feel it pulsing inside his chest.

Not caring about permission, she fed from him, careful not to take too much. As she called the piece of Saevel toward her, it snaked up her arm, invisible to him, and she breathed deeply. Her shadows swirled in the corners of the room a little, and her eyes widened at how they flashed around. The flames in the fireplace rippled softly, too, as if disturbed by a breeze. 

The prince’s eyes rolled back in bliss as she fed, but he kept going. Imani’s mind drifted a little.

Could Kiran hear them? Who was he with right now? Was she as good as Imani?

Imagining Kiran, Imani let out another sensual moan—and a sharp pain struck her right between the eyes. A pain like she’d never experienced while feeding. She pressed her lips together, silencing herself. 

Saevel kept going, but the pain didn’t abate, and she groaned, but not in pleasure.

Something was wrong.

Was she feeling a physical reaction to Kiran fucking someone else? It hurt her heart imagining what he was doing right now, but she needed to keep it together.

Just as another wave of pain washed over her, Saevel finished inside her and slowed his hips.

Almost immediately, Imani pushed him off her. Drawing in breath after breath, she tore her hands into her hair, ripping at the braid, and stood.

Irritation darkened Saevel’s features. His brows snapped together as he watched her dress.

Her whole body shook now, tremors sliding through her limbs. Nausea roiled through her, too, and she clutched her stomach as she looked for her dress. It lay discarded on the rug by the fireplace. When she dragged her dress over her head, the room slanted.

This felt like one of the divination visions coming on, but much, much stronger. Something dangerous was happening to her, and like when her brands appeared, her instincts were screaming for her to hide.

“Is that it?” Saevel asked, confused, as he rounded on her. He reached out to hold her again.

Imani felt sick to her stomach; the pain she was suddenly feeling was taking over her body. Something was extremely wrong, and she absolutely needed to keep this hidden from Saevel, someone she didn’t trust one bit.

In fact, she was almost positive this was another vision from Meira coming on, far more intense than any other. Something was happening to her sister … and, consequently, her.

Still shaking, Imani shoved past him. “I need to go,” she mumbled.

Saevel grabbed his clothes. He shrugged on his shirt and pulled on his pants while watching her with his brows drawn. “I figured you’d stay longer.”

“You figured wrong,” she muttered. “I’m tired; don’t take it personally.” Ladies didn’t usually leave a prince like she was doing. But she was not about to let decorum stop her, not when she needed to hide this pain from him—from everyone. 

What in the Six Saints was going on? The visions had never been this invasive and painful before.

Leaving an open-mouthed Saevel sitting on his bed, Imani stepped outside into the drizzle and eyed the woods behind the tent. Dazed, her feet practically moved on their own as she hurried through the haze of rain, gaze intent on the heavy darkness amongst the trees.

Something hard blocked her way. She ran into the steel chest of Prince Kiran.

Taken aback at her presence outside his brother’s tent, he openly stared at her with his eyes narrowed and mouth thin. Indeed, his furious green iris appeared as if it would burn right through her. But was he worried about her? A small vulnerable part of her hoped he was at least concerned, and she even thought about asking him for help. To not feel so alone in this suffering sounded lovely. But she could never read Kiran, and he didn’t deserve her secrets.

One thing was obvious—he wasn’t happy about finding her leaving his brother’s tent without knowing why she had been there in the first place.

Well, too bad.

The tightening sensation such a look spurred in her chest nearly caused her to lose her breath with its strength. 

Kiran moved to reach for her waist as she swayed on the spot, but she pushed him away. The rest of the pain was easy to ignore with the immense pounding in her head. She pinched her fingers to the bridge of her nose, unwilling to look at him anymore.

“Get away from me,” she growled, putting out her other hand to push him out of the way. The planes of his flat abdomen were firm underneath her fingers when she touched him, and his skin was warm even through his clothes. Imani longed to slide her hands up and down his waist and bury her head in his chest, to not feel so alone in this agony. Instead, she stumbled into the woods nearby, alone, without another word.

Once in the cover of the tree line, she darted a glance over her shoulder.

As if frozen in place, he merely stood there, watching her with drawn brows. But there was a little less malice painted across his handsome features. 

With her attention elsewhere, she tripped over a branch. Once she righted herself and looked back again, he was gone.

She breathed a sigh of relief that neither prince seemed to sense anything was really wrong with her. But something was wrong with her, tearing her apart from the inside.

Free from curious eyes, Imani let the pain wash over her and immediately dropped to her knees. Her stomach clenched, and she threw up her dinner. She heaved several more times until, finally, it stopped. Her chest hollowed out, and all she could do was lie prone on the ground. She pressed her blazing cheek to the cold, wet leaves as a vision of blood running down her temples flashed in her mind.

Real blood began sliding down from the crown of her head, like she’d cracked open her skull. Maybe something had—had she hit her head on a branch or the ground? Or was it something else? Some magic she didn’t understand? It wet her skin and hair. 

Pain continued blasting through her, almost as bad as the sacrificial, blood burning flesh magic ritual she had done with Kiran to save her life after she’d failed the assessments. Even the reappearance of her brands hadn’t felt this all-consuming.

She could barely move but tried to stand.

A tunnel formed in her line of sight, and she swayed a little until she fainted and blacked out for a few minutes. Images of Meira flooded her mind, exactly like the visions she was used to seeing of her over the past several months. It showed her sister lying in bed, tossing and turning, moaning in pain. Blood dripped down her brow and temples. Imani could feel the silkiness of the sheets, slick with blood, covering Meira’s face. Sharp pains still assaulted Imani, and she couldn’t help but wonder what the divination magic was revealing, and doing to them.

Despite the grotesque scene, Imani didn’t push it away. She missed her sister and relished the connection.

The visions had never felt this intense before, and she hated the scene. While part of her would enjoy revenge against her sister, another part of her still felt protective, even if Meira had made it clear she didn’t want to be protected.

So odd how one could go years without knowing who people really were on the inside. Imani had chosen to see only the good memories with her sister. Like picking fruit from a basket, she’d completely glazed over the other imperfect or downright rotten pieces. If ignorance was a fruit, then for years, Imani had eaten only the ripe, perfect ones.

Still, Imani basked in these half-dreams, half-visions, feeling close to her sister and relieved she wasn’t alone in experiencing this pain. Hopefully, Imani was taking some of it away from Meira when they shared these visions.

When Imani’s eyes fluttered open, she was back in the woods and the pain in her skull was a dull ache. Her head dropped with the weight of what had just occurred, but Imani gathered her strength.

Like usual, everything had looked so real, and Imani had stood right in the room with her sister, feeling what Meira had felt. Luckily, Meira never seemed to see her or communicate with her, but she wondered if they explored this connection more, their divination magic connection might make it possible.

She pushed herself off the slick ground, and her shaky body almost lost balance. But she righted herself before toppling over again. Mud and blood covered her face and dress, but she could breathe normally now, so she sucked in deep breaths of cold, wet air.

Despite recovering, something was different in Imani’s body—a feeling coursed through her bones that wasn’t entirely hers. Blood had dried around her cheeks and eyes in long, red ribbons. With a trembling hand, she reached up and touched her crusted hair, feeling branches and leaves tangled up in the strands. Blood still oozed from her head, and her heart skipped a beat. She dropped her hand like it had been burned.

What did you do, Meira? What is happening to us?

These visions had become more frequent—more real as of late—but whatever new magic coursed through her veins was … unheard of. Imani had a feeling Meira had performed a flesh magic spell, and it had connected itself to Imani, too. It had to be similar to the one they had performed when they’d transferred divination to Imani, but something had gone terribly wrong with whatever magic Meira had been attempting.

Holy gods, what has happened to us? Imani covered her mouth, lest she vomit again.

Magic coursed through her veins like she’d never felt before—powerful and heady. Imani flexed her fingers and felt several jolts of electricity between them. While she didn’t feel any new magic, it was almost as if her current magic had been amped up—made more powerful.

She touched the dried blood on her head again, wondering if she was more powerful now, or if this was just a reflection of what Meira had done.

If it wasn’t a reflection, the whole game had changed, and this was not part of the plan.

No, no, no. How could this have happened? The likelihood seemed almost impossible.

And yet the proof dripped red blood down her face, and magic so powerful she felt like a queen ran through her veins.

Meira had performed a powerful flesh magic spell, to be sure. Enough to rival a monarch.

Imani’s body trembled with the newfound power vibrating her bones. This connection between her and Meira had just become dangerous and almost unfathomable. Sharing magic like this could only be done between heartmates. Or so it was thought.

Shock made her dazed, but some part of her knew to be afraid and wary of anyone seeing her in such a state.

She had to get out of sight immediately.

Slipping out her wand from the pocket in her dress, she cast a hasty illusion spell over the crown of her head and her brow to hide the evidence of her ordeal. Then, trudging forward, she crossed her shivering arms and thought more about her sister.

Should she find a way back to Meira? Could they forgive each other, given the gravity of the magic they now shared in their blood? Tanyl would kill Meira over this if she couldn’t keep the magic hidden.

Tanyl might kill them both if he knew the sisters shared this type of magical connection.

Imani shook herself back to reality. There was no time for such worries—she needed to think about her survival here, in the Niflheim Kingdom. 

Disgusted, she ripped up those thoughts and tossed them away, remembering that Meira would have sent her to the pyre with a smirk on her face just days ago. Whatever her sister’s current situation in Stralas, it was not Imani’s business. Imani had her own problems to worry about, which were now made worse by Meira’s. Indeed, this had to be Meira’s fault, not hers. The visions almost always had Imani taking on Meira’s pain, not the other way around.

Even if she could leave to save her sister, the damn bindings kept her tethered here. It made her sick how much freedom had been stripped from her. If Meira was really dying, Imani would have no way to get to her. That didn’t sit right, but she didn’t think Meira had died. Imani still breathed, and their connection still felt strong.

Either way, Meira could deal with this by her own damn self. Just like Imani would—by hiding it from the world.

Panting quietly to try to steady her breathing, Imani went to the princes’ tents again. She flattened herself against the side of the canvas and shrouded herself in shadow before she could be sure it was safe to run across the field past the guards.

Her ears flicked back and forth at the voices emanating from inside—Saevel wasn’t alone. Kiran was still there, along with several others.

And inside, one unfamiliar voice began shouting. With the way the man begged, it made her heart skip a beat because this was no ordinary meeting.