Page 1 of The Serpent Prince

PART I

THE KING

CHAPTER 1

The smell of ash, and magic, and death choked the air as the guards and servants set up a makeshift camp near the Niflheim border.

The traveling party had chosen a spot near Imani’s home village, Kishion. Much larger and with more crossings, Imani was relieved they wouldn’t take the familiar bridge she’d seen so many times growing up.

Many of her dreams still featured the Riverlands, her mind forever stamped with the good memories she’d shared with her siblings and dead best friend, Riona—and the really, really bad ones with Malis and Grandmother Aralana.

Now, without her estranged siblings or Riona, she’d rather forget it altogether.

Imani stood on a knoll, watching the people work, and thought about the trials that had brought them here. Kiran and Saevel had pulled it off—they’d successfully stolen fifty of Essenheim’s most powerful witches … and killed the rest. Despite surviving, Imani shuddered at what awaited them in Niflheim’s harsh, nightmare lands. As cunning as he was, Kiran had a plan for the captive witches … but she had no idea what it could be.

It had been four days of hard traveling from the capital to the Riverlands, and four days for her to overthink everything that had happened between her and Tanyl in the carriage before their departure. Another mess she’d gotten herself into, among many at the moment.

She shivered at her impending tasks: spying on the Illithianas, finding the Drasil, and killing the youngest Niflheim prince, after making him beg for his life on his knees. She was undecided about the first task, but she needed to complete the second one before embarking on the third, which she would.

Determination pumped through her blood and seeped into her bones, although a kernel of unease still kept her from doing anything rash.

She still had no idea what her magic was capable of, nor was she any closer to finding the Drasil. She was stuck for the time being, and it grated on her.

As she wandered around, doubt crept in. Could she do this? Everyone had bested her before when she’d been so naïve, and this was an entirely new kingdom, with its own dynamics, that she was entering.

Imani bit her lip, trying to calm her nerves. Part of her still felt like that helpless, magicless elf trapped in the cage in the back of her grandmother’s shop. Such deep-seated insecurities were difficult for her to simply forget—despite wishing she could. Especially after the trials she’d endured yet somehow had also failed, they were lingering.

Loneliness plagued her, as well. She’d never felt so alone, and in these moments, she wondered if her true father was out there somewhere. Who was he, and why hadn’t he come for her?

But she was powerful—she could feel it in her bones—and she would ignore these feelings of doubt and tap into her true potential, even if it killed her. Power was the key.

An approaching storm churned and rumbled above them. If it bothered anyone, they kept it to themselves. They usually dissipated once they reached the Essenheim borders, anyway, but it was still a sight to behold.

Lightning cracked across the sky in Niflheim, a web of light that distorted any bits of the Fabric the citizens might have seen. Growing in intensity as it swept over the Niflheim mountains, the storm prepared to unleash a wave of destruction, and Imani wondered what hell they were going into.

While the Essenheim witches had the freedom to roam the camp, Imani could feel the guards watching their backs.

Soon, fires lit the camp’s perimeter, despite a steady rain attempting to thwart their efforts. The glowing fires offered some light against the darkening night and illuminated the angry, roiling sky on the horizon over the Niflheim border.

Imani’s chest tightened with anxiety, and her palms started sweating. They would be in the Southern Kingdom soon—a ruinous land marked for death by the Fabric. It took all her strength to steel her nerves and return to her tent.

She needed a plan and to harden her heart even further.

Esa and Imani shared a modest tent with thick rugs covering a raised floor and cots with soft mattresses. It was a standard accommodation for the Essenheim witches in the traveling party. Still, Imani was immensely grateful that it was nicer than the rudimentary shelters for the guards and servants. Those would be flooded by nightfall.

They quietly ate their supper to the sounds of pattering on the canvas, the mood still stilted after their argument earlier about Esa being Imani’s ally.

Imani didn’t trust a word out of the pixie’s mouth these days.

The flap ripped open, and a uniformed guard entered, a letter in hand. “Forgive me, ladies, but the prince sent me. I have something for Lady Aowyn.”

“Over here,” Imani ordered, nerves biting at her as she wondered what Kiran wanted.

“My lady,” the guard said, holding out the white envelope. He dipped into a bow before her then left, and Imani broke the bright red wax seal.

It was from Saevel, asking her to come to his tent in an hour.

Her stomach sank a little, but Imani didn’t have time to think about what he wanted or if his brother would be there. If she were to meet him and look presentable, she needed to start on her appearance immediately, after having traveled for three days.