Page 55 of The Serpent Prince

Crouching down, she retrieved the wand, letting blood drip from it and onto the floor. The wand buzzed in her hand, its power radiating off of it, recognizing another magic user. It was much smoother than her own Draswood wand.

She took the end of her dress and tried to clean it off more, but it merely spread the blood around, tinting the normally pale wand red. Imani was tempted to test it out—the power was practically purring, asking her to cast something—but she resisted.

Because this was a bone wand.

How had she not noticed before? From what little Imani knew about them, they were made from flesh magic and not to be trifled with. It was why most magic users wouldn’t—no, couldn’t—use them, especially in Essenheim.

Even discussing bone wands was taboo in the Draswood.

Questions tumbled through her mind—not least of which was how he had procured such a powerful wand, but also why wasn’t he holding his most precious possession?

Where are you, Kiran? Worry ate at her chest. Imani gnawed on her lip, unsure of what to do next. She slipped the wand into her pocket. It zapped her skin as she let it go, but otherwise settled down.

Slowly taking in the rest of the room, she saw the door to the next room ajar. It was dark except for a slit of light from the main room.

Careful to not make much noise, she approached slowly. With a palm flat on the wood, she pushed the door open a few inches further. Too dark to see, but more smoke filled her nose, although this was more a peppery smell. Harsh magic.

Flesh magic.

There was no question now that this was a blood burning.

The whole room felt suffocating and made her dizzy—so hot she could barely breathe.

A chuckle made her snap her head to the remote darkness farther in the room. Someone was laughing, but it wasn’t a normal laugh. It started slow and crescendoed into a cackle. It quieted for a minute or so before starting again.

The hairs on her arm stood on end at the chilling sound.

She recognized the laugh as Kiran’s, but it sounded distorted.

Imani whispered an incantation, and the end of her wand lit up.

Lying naked in the bed was Kiran with his eyes closed. A sheet barely covered him, and a sheen of sweat covered his beautiful skin. Dried blood ran down his arms and chest, but the cuts were gone—he must have healed them before they scarred. She saw no sign of his brands.

Damn. She would have liked to see all twelve and his sigil.

He was unmoving now, and she could have sworn he was asleep. But then a slow smile spread across his face and his chest shook, and she wasn’t so sure. Soon, he chuckled again, which turned into a much louder laugh. Then, with a jerk, he tilted his head to the side and moaned before quieting again. His eyes were closed this whole time.

Imani was now relatively sure he was laughing in his sleep and that he’d just conducted a nasty blood burning spell on himself.

After a moment of hesitation, she approached the bed. Her hair fell in a curtain around her face as she hovered over his body. With one clammy hand, she reached out and brushed his silken hair from his brow. The coldness of her fingers contrasted so intensely with his hot skin that she almost ripped her hand back in surprise.

Kiran’s eyes flew open. Wide and alert, they bored into her own, as if seeing straight into her mind. He snatched her wrist out of the air with surprising strength for someone whose arm was trembling.

For a moment, she was so close their breaths mingled as they stared at each other.

Another slow, serpentine smile spread across his face, and he laughed again loudly at her. The wild look on his face made Imani want to recoil, this madness too much, even for him. Imani tried to pull her hand back, but he clamped his fingers tighter.

“Imani.” He chuckled. “I was just thinking about you.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that statement, and her nostrils flared as she tried to even her breathing.

Finally, she swallowed and found her voice. It came out as a raspy whisper. “Why were you thinking about me?”

With his other hand, he curled a piece of her hair around his finger. Then he threaded his hands through the strands, smiling at his work with a vague look on his face. Then he laughed again and tugged her closer, his grip rough against her scalp.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He bared his teeth. There was some blood still on them, marring their perfection.

Imani shook her head. “I don’t pretend to know your mind, Kiran. Why were you thinking about me?”