Page 22 of The Serpent Prince

Imani shifted in her seat and pressed her thighs together to stop the small ache that started there at the sight of him. His gaze immediately tracked the movement—eager, hungry.

The hunger surged in her, too, but she set it aside.

“Stop looking at me, and let’s get on with it. You want to know more about Tanyl’s death?”

While Kiran whispered something to Esa, Imani could feel his attention lingering on her. His magic snuck through the air, looking for signs of pushback. She was too distracted by it to listen in on their conversation.

“Tell me how it works again,” he said softly, looking at Imani once more. His soft tone didn’t betray the order in his voice—she had to obey.

Yet, Imani hesitated. She needed to be careful—sharing too much information wasn’t what she’d signed up for today. She had a plan and needed to stick to it. Besides, she didn’t know how else to explain it. As far as her power skills, she figured things out as she went. She didn’t question how it happened, just accepted that it did.

“I touch someone for the first time—it’s only the first time—and the vision comes on fast.”

“What happens again when you get the premonition?” Esa interjected.

“I can feel it coming on, I guess. Sometimes, there’s a soft glow around the edges of my vision, but mostly … I just know.”

“Did you cast a spell for this to start?” Kiran asked.

“No. I never cast anything. And no one taught me to do it. In short, it just happened—almost immediately after I gained the brand. Maybe you wouldn’t understand, but it’s true.”

“You have no idea what I do or don’t understand.” Kiran sat back, his arms crossed in front of him, muscles straining his shirt. “How do I die?”

Imani’s throat dried, fingers clenching and unfurling at her sides. She’d expected this question. His tone might have been pleasant enough, but his empty expression gave away the lurking danger behind his inquiry. She wasn’t going to be a puppet for him, though.

“I agreed to give up what I knew about Tanyl and the true Essenheim monarch.”

“Except you lied to me.”

“When did I lie?”

Imani expected him to look back up at her defensively. Instead, he did a slow perusal of her body before his eyes finally met hers again. “You said you had the answers to my questions—you didn’t. You have circumstantial evidence related to them that has interesting implications, but you don’t know who the true heir is and where they are. So, don’t lie to me anymore,” he said, his voice lowering once more. “This will be your last warning.”

Imani blinked in irritation. “I don’t owe you anything else. This is what we agreed upon earlier.”

Suddenly, a burst of his magic filled the space. It felt like she was being eaten by snakes. She flinched and reached for her wand.

“Looking for this?” Kiran held up her wand. “You need to protect your most valuable weapon better.” The gleam in his eyes and slight raise of his brow showed his pure unapologetic arrogance. And she hated him for it. So much so that Imani thought she might leap across the couch and lunge at him.

He watched her for a long moment, a smile tugging on his mouth, but her resolve refused to break. Esa sat like a stone, waiting for Imani to respond and ignoring Kiran entirely.

A rumble came up his throat as he moved closer to her, caging her in. Trapping her. The sickest thing was that Imani enjoyed it. While it pissed her off when he’d slapped her, a part of her had liked it, too. It had made her feel something other than the grief and anger that had consumed her over the past few days.

Her thoughts spiraled as she tried to squirm away from Kiran. What kind of monster does that make me?

A lonely one.

The elf prince breathed in, shutting his eyes then pulling back from her, as if composing himself. Before she could even sense his wand move, a feeling like a whip lashed across her face, breaking her skin. A sob formed in her throat. She tried desperately to hide her response, but Kiran’s spell struck again, ripping a cry from her lips.

“You force my hand with your obstinance,” he whispered almost apologetically.

Her body bristled against the submissive response, yet the magical force flattened her out on the seat, where she curled up to protect herself. Imani reveled in the pain. It was different from the pain of last night—this came with a visceral reaction to the witch causing it. It was biting, it was sharp, and it made her so angry. It invigorated her to feel these new, intense emotions.

He hit her back three more times, the magic ripping open the fabric of her dress. Blood dripped down her cheeks and back, and the murmurs in her head grew shriller to protect her. Whispers of words, hisses of syllables. Nothing she could understand, but it continued to grow louder and louder. Her magic would be coming out soon to meet his if he didn’t stop.

Maybe that was what he wanted.

“Tell me how I die!” Kiran’s demand was a roar. For no reason other than to be a complete and utter bastard, he swiped his wand again, cracking the magic against her back.