Page 61 of The Serpent Prince

A rustling sound to the right of them got Imani’s attention.

A stag turned on his back legs and bounded twenty paces away before stopping and looking at her over his shoulder. No one except Esa seemed to notice him.

The pixie sucked in a deep breath but remained perfectly still.

When Imani didn’t move or do anything, he snorted and pawed the ground before bounding another ten paces and turning to look at her.

“Do you want us to follow you?” Imani blinked. That seemed to be what he was trying to signify.

Someone approached from behind them, their footsteps crunching the leaves, and the stag ran.

Frustrated, Imani turned to snap at this person, but it was Zadie.

Imani watched the stag through narrowed eyes. Pointing in the direction of the creature, Imani whispered, “It’s that way.”

All Zadie did was nod. Then she turned on her heel to presumably direct their party down the tight path the stag had run toward. Why she believed Imani, Imani didn’t know—maybe there was some trust growing between her and the old nymph witch.

Imani rubbed the blue leaf sigil on her wrist, remembering the red stag that lived beneath the illusion, and again that eerie feeling passed through her.

This place was strange, indeed.

The stag led them through a narrow winding path that didn’t look well-used. No one else had seen the animal, but Imani insisted and Zadie shut the grumblings of the travel party up with a look.

It felt good to have someone believe in her regarding such an odd, instinctive inclination. But Imani was sure she was correct, and they soon emerged from the forest to a small town nestled in the rocks scattered along the coastline.

The whispering echoed louder inside Imani’s head, almost sounding like it was calling her name. She felt it everywhere.

Death.

There were people dying here, and they had woken up her shadows.

A surge of power rose up in her chest. Her shadows were growing stronger.

Death called to her, and it sounded like dozens of souls screaming out in a crescendo of sorrow.

But where? Is it some kind of sickness or plague? What am I walking into?

They entered the village, heading to the inn where the master witches and royal entourage would stay. The rest of the traveling party would camp on the outskirts of the town near the forest.

Imani lingered outside while they unpacked the trunks and their supplies. She began wandering around outside the inn, taking in the sights of the town.

The homes had lights burning in them, giving them a cozy look. They were timber-framed, crooked from age. Many of the walls and roofs were decorated with seashells, and dark water glittered all around. Imani breathed in the briny air. This was a true sea kingdom, and knowing what inhabitants it housed made Imani nervous.

When she lifted her head, she found a woman was staring at her.

The young woman greeted Imani with an unwavering, steely gaze. Her irises were so fair that they melted into the whites of her eyes, leaving pinpoint dark pupils watching her in an assessing stare. Soot and blood painted her cheeks, her white braids tangled and dirty. A coat that had once been blue hung from her shoulders. Now it was so spattered with red that it edged on purple, the stains crawling over the heart sigil on her lapel.

Imani peered back, but after a few beats, she shifted uncomfortably. The woman still didn’t relent.

Then, without a word, she turned and started walking toward the forest.

Just like the stag, Imani had the distinct feeling the woman wanted her to follow. Curiosity got the best of her, and Imani’s feet were soon trailing behind the woman. She had nowhere to be until dinner, anyway.

Staying about fifty paces behind, Imani felt a little bizarre stalking after this strange woman in the middle of the afternoon. Her shadows were hissing and crying out inside her mind the closer they got to the edge of the forest. The wooded area was where her magic had started waking up earlier, too.

Just past the tree line, a barbed metal fence stood tall, nestled among branches. Magic tingled against her fingertips, itching for her wand.

Imani craned her neck up to see how high it went—too high. It would be impossible to climb with the barbs. When Imani glanced around again, the woman in blue was gone.