A strangled sound came from her throat. "You bastard."
He sighed, "The first binding—the one where you pledged loyalty to me and our kingdom—means that I can have you do anything I bloody want."
"You know," she grated out, "this seems like a great time to mention that I'm about to be implicated in the murder of the Niflheim-breed merchant in our town—and since you're obligated to fulfill our binding and keep me alive, I don't mind admitting that every word of it is true. Do you know what was left of him? Nothing. My shadows completely obliterated him. So, trust me, I am not an elf you want to be ordering around. Unless you want me to unleash them again on you when this binding is complete."
"I'm not afraid of your magic." He leaned closer and lowered his voice as they kept walking. His mouth brushed over her ear. "And I've known about your crime for months, my little murderess."
Imani jerked her head back in surprise. "What do you mean? With what proof? How could you have anything the Crown would legitimately consider?"
The nymph witch trailed behind them, an unreadable expression as she watched them.
Seemingly oblivious to her anger, Kiran continued pulling her towards the balcony around the inner atrium. Finally, they stopped, and he glanced at her arrogantly. "You're right. The Queen would never give me an audience for any conversation whatsoever. But rumor is that the evidence the Queen and your precious Heir heard from your sister earlier was extremely compelling."
Imani's stomach lurched, and she honestly thought she might pass out. "What are you talking about? What is my sister doing here?"
"Meira decided she couldn't take your lies anymore. So, she arrived yesterday and told them how you likely attacked the merchant after your grandmother's burning, how you came home smelling of smoke and covered in ash, how you lost your cloak—the very one they found near the remains. Oh, and she also told them how you've been lying to the Order and the Crown, hiding your true magic and identity."
She pressed her hand to her forehead to calm her racing thoughts. Her mind careened out of control with possibilities. She didn't believe Meira would do this to her. Not her sister. No.
Imani could barely get the words out. Her voice was cracking so much, fighting the tears. "How did you get her to say those things? What did you do to her?"
"Take a look for yourself," he led her to the railing and made her look down at the people milling about below.
Her body froze. She couldn't move, could barely think.
Indeed, both Meira and Dak were below. Meira spoke to two witches with the Order and didn't appear under duress. Dak seemed to be waiting patiently, sitting nearby sketching.
Her chest cracked open. Deep down, she now knew Kiran spoke the truth. Imani wished she could crawl out of her skin. She wanted to scream, claw her heart out and throw it at her sister.
Kiran tsked. "They do look more High Naiad than you, but I think you'll find them easily in the crowd—"
The prince cut himself off as Meira walked up the stairs with one of the master witches.
Kiran let her out of his grip so abruptly that she almost tripped.
She stared at her sister, floating up the stairs, hardly breathing, hardly seeing. The sharp look from Meira stopped her in her tracks. Imani's heart raced with the tears gathering in her eyes.
To calm her shaking hands, she balled them into fists.
The master gave them a startled look but politely stepped back to give them privacy. Meira glided towards her, displaying far more poise and calm than Imani was capable of right now. Her blank expression never wavered. Imani couldn't read it. In fact, she barely recognized this spiteful, icy witch in front of her.
How long had Meira been pretending? When did she change?
It didn't matter—she had changed, and it broke Imani's already horribly ruined heart to see the bare truth now.
"Why did you do this?" Imani rasped as stray tears fell down her cheeks and over her lips.
Meira's big blue eyes filled with tears, too, but her lip snarled in frustration when she spoke. "You betrayed me first, and once I learned the truth, I decided I was sick of living that life with your selfishness and lies. Because instead of keeping your head down for us and focusing on getting home, you've been searching for that wand and acting recklessly in pursuit of a myth." She paused. "But you go after what you want—and so do I," Meira said, her voice dropping low.
Meira had never looked or spoken this way, but despite the strange coldness in Meira's demeanor, Imani understood perfectly. She knew her sister, and Meira wanted only a simple life with her own family. She had always been trying to get them to be together as a family.
Besides, there was truth in those words. Imani had lied to her sister about the murder and many other things. She had made choices that took her away from her siblings and closer to the wand. Those lies and her entire existence threatened Meira's dream—as did Ara's execution.
But Imani had made mistakes before, and they always forgave each other.
Not this time, it seemed.
Once Meira learned what Imani had done, she'd probably sought to sever herself from those black spots, making it clear what side she was on—her own. She'd have to stay here and take the Ascension Assessments, but afterward, if she survived, she'd be untethered from Imani and Ara and able to return to the Draswood with Dak. She'd be able to find a mate.
"You will regret this someday," Imani snarled.
"Will I? How does it feel to know you're truly alone now?" Tears now fell freely down Meira's cheeks as if the insults hurt her more than Imani.
She was the hero and the victim—and how well her sweet sister played her role.
The words gutted Imani, and she stepped back a few paces, carefully keeping her glare locked onto her sister. "I love you more than anyone. But you would have sent me to my execution with no mercy. So, while I might be truly alone, I'm going to console myself by burying you alive and dancing on your grave," she stated, her voice and fists firm.
Meira flinched, a flicker of fear passing in her eyes—and it soothed Imani's pain just a little.
Turning on her heel, Imani returned to the prince's side and lifted her chin to meet his gaze. Kiran stared back with a look of evil triumph shining in his eyes.
Crazed, self-deprecating laughter burned in her throat, but it faded as her mind traveled even further back—realizing just how far this deception went. Kiran knew Ara. He knew Malis. He'd known of her before even coming here. She wondered just how long this plan of his had been in motion.
And it hit her. She brought her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming.
The Serpent Prince planned this weeks ago.
He'd been suspicious about her identity from the second he laid eyes on her, and that's why Kiran kept staring at her that first day. When he named her the older Aowyn sister, he'd already started plotting to create a situation where she'd have no choice but to go to him and bargain for her life.
He needed a High-Norn elf for something, and he found one. He wasn't the one who brought her lies to light, but he knew Malis and the truth about his death—then he dangled it in front of Meira, setting the wheels in motion for her to do it. He probably even found a way for Aidan to break the only rule in the Assessment.
In all her overconfidence, she naively convinced herself she had figured him out and understood how he thought more than others. But he backed her into a corner from all angles, and it suddenly dawned on her that she didn't truly know the prince.
Imani paused to see if, by chance, he'd take it all back—that she was wrong, she had made a mistake, and he hadn't been lying to her from the moment we met. But his smirk told Imani beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was right about everything.
"As I already explained, my darling," he murmured, "I know more about you than anyone else alive."
Hearing the truth in those words terrified her.
Kiran shoved her forward, but she could barely sense her surroundings. Every step reminded her that she was prey caught in the jaws of a viper.
She thought she'd been keeping up all this time, making her own choices. But she'd been following every course Kiran set before her. Everything leading up to this moment had been a trap he set up—one she walked right into.
And that infuriating look and smile told her everything she needed to know. The man was good at getting what he wanted. He was beyond good. It was breathtaking.
People tried to warn her. Esa and Tanyl both emphasized that Kiran was more dangerous than people knew. But, unfortunately, even amongst the false rumors, some were true.
Just like with Malis and Esa, she had been an easily tricked fool. Her overconfidence, not to mention how many people she'd been trying to please, made her sloppy. It was a wonder Imani still drew breath.
Her stupidity should have killed her ten times over already.
A hysteria started building, and her chest heaved. Whispers raged around her as she lost the last shreds of her sanity. Indeed, she barely noticed as Kiran deposited inside another bedroom.
"Where am I? What is this?"
"I said you'd never feed from Tanyl again, and I meant it." Then, grabbing her roughly, he nipped his teeth against the delicate flesh of her throat before whispering, "I should warn you, though, my brother expects your magic elf cunt, and I promised him he'd get it."
Imani thought she might pass out when Kiran pressed his lips against her throat again, kissing the pulse that raced there before his tongue traced against it. He gripped her neck tighter, pulling her closer. When he spoke, his voice was more menacing and crueler than she'd ever heard it. "I'll repeat this, elf witch—I control you now. Understood? Mind and body. You are now my little pet. So, start behaving, or I may decide you're never waking up from this nightmare."
As fast as he'd grabbed her, he let go, and she stumbled backward without his arms to support her. He glared at her with unmistakable contempt.
"You know Saevel can get testy if he doesn't get what he wants. Consequences of being a spoiled Heir."
He paused, appraising her like she was no better than an insect he wanted to kill quickly. "Of course, you have so much experience that I'm sure you'll be fine."
His smirk was half arrogance, half amusement as his perfect mouth silently spoke a single word: Whore.
Then without sparing her another word—or even a Godsdamned look—he put his hand on the small of the Naiad's back and left with her.
Tears filled her eyes as anger tore through her insides, causing a sob to build in her throat. Imani couldn't move—couldn't do anything except let a few tears fall down her cheeks while standing in her nightgown and messy hair.
Probably looking precisely like the elf whore, they all considered her.
Putting her fist in her mouth, she silently screamed. Furious at herself for everything.
After a few seconds, she forced herself to get composed. Because, at the moment, Imani had few options, although she felt a modicum of power and pleasure knowing she had them at all.
She could run away and face his wrath—and probably get herself killed. Or Imani could fight Saevel and unleash her magic. But already weak and defeated, she didn't like her chances with that either because he'd probably shift and just kill her.
But what choice did she really have? None. Absolutely none. Exhaling sharply, she hardened her resolve, fortifying herself behind an impenetrable wall, and decided she wanted to live. If Kiran wanted her to have sex with her brother, she'd at least get something out of it. The best way to fight pain was with more pain, and she had much to ease at that moment.
Saevel prowled across the floor toward her, looking like some sort of magnificent beast, dressed in disarranged finery, lips swollen, and hair mussed like he'd come straight from one bedroom to another. She met his gaze head-on.
Standing tall, she pierced the prince with a sultry look. "You better be planning on punishing me, shifter. I want nothing less than the black and blue you teased me earlier."
"You better not be as breakable as you look, elf." He stripped off his jacket and laid it over the chair.
"I'm not." At that, she let her robe pool at her feet and lifted her nightgown over her head.
His eyes raked over her fully naked body, sparkling with the promise of violence. A crackle of shadows moved below her skin, and she flexed her hands watching as the darkness shot around the room, extinguishing the candles to wafting smoke and the hearth to smoldering embers.
"Oh, and Saevel," she added, undoing her braid as she moved closer to him. "I'm starving and going to eat the shit out of your soul."
Much to her surprise, he threw his head back, laughing.