Page 63 of The Serpent Prince
But she didn’t believe that anymore.
All she wanted was the godsdamned truth.
Kiran stepped up to the fence and leaned against one of the wood stakes holding it up. “Esa doesn’t know the things I’m required to do in order to hold onto even a modicum of that power. If I didn’t have that power, things would be much worse for our witches—much worse. At least, with the camps, some eventually get out alive.”
Though Imani knew all too well that being alive was far from all right, hearing such a statement made her want to lose her fucking mind, but she understood what Kiran was saying.
“This is Magnus.” It still didn’t excuse Kiran’s complacency, but she knew he would never do anything like this to other witches. He loved magic too much.
Kiran didn’t reply. He didn’t need to.
“What’s he planning to do with them? Kill them all?”
“Some will prove useful to our armed forces. Others won’t.”
“Why did you kill that man earlier?”
“He was about to use his siren compulsion on me. It’s strictly forbidden here, and anyone caught doing it is killed instantly.”
“Hasn’t this kingdom done enough damage to magic?” A small feeling of guilt swirled in her gut—Dialora hadn’t been too far from implementing such a solution to consolidate magic in Essenheim.
“Hasn’t yours?” Kiran shot back. “Don’t tell me you knew nothing of Dialora’s plans.” He’d practically read her mind.
Imani didn’t reply.
Kiran continued, “I know you blame us for the Fabric, but it’s much more complicated than that. Essenheim merely got lucky to avoid the Fabric events we experience here. Truthfully, you’re not even avoiding them—you’re simply lying to us about how many are happening.”
He was right.
She paused, feelings of shame at her hypocrisy spreading through her. “Do you plan to do anything to stop him? He’s committing genocide against witches.”
“Imani, darling. When don’t I have a plan?”
PART II
THE THRONE
CHAPTER 23
Imani had taken to walking the edge of the labor camp every day. She didn’t really need the sustenance, not with Kiran still helping her. But, occasionally, a soul would call to her, and she couldn’t resist. It was as if the soul wanted to be inside her.
Her whispers seemed to get louder each time she did, too, asking to be let out.
She didn’t think too long on what that meant, still often beguiled by her strange magic and tendencies. If she did, she’d ache with the desire to know her breed. To even just find one other person like her would be a revelation. Especially her father. Why hadn’t he ever come for her?
A red brand, though—she was from the Under. Maybe he couldn’t leave the realm to get to her. Yet, somehow he’d left before when he’d slept with her mother. Or did he? Did her mother travel to the Under realm?
Questions about her origins tumbled around in her head, but she pushed them aside. She needed to focus on that task at hand—practicing for training.
There was a small, wooded area with soft pine needles layering the ground where she sometimes stopped to read or practice her magic. Zadie had been busy with the emissaries, and they hadn’t trained much. But she was sure lessons would resume when they returned, and Imani didn’t want to be out of shape.
With a swipe of her wand overhead, Imani watched as the shadows shimmered into existence, blotting out more of the dim daylight. They wrapped around her body, swirling until she was nothing but invisible air. She was in her shadows. They lifted her off the ground like a leaf in the wind, and she floated above the ground, invisible to the whole of the world for several peaceful moments. Then, with another swipe, the shadows spun and twisted around her again, dropping her back down to the ground and revealing her solid form.
“My, what interesting magic you have,” a female voice purred from behind her.
Imani’s defenses went up as her back went ramrod straight. Carefully, Imani turned her head and body until she could see Ayla standing several feet back, just outside the small practice circle Imani had created around herself.
Ayla had seen everything—Imani couldn’t lie.
