Page 111 of The Serpent Prince

Tentatively, Imani reached out and touched the wood. It was cool to the touch, and she allowed herself to try to pick it up again.

This time, it worked, and she felt the small, intricate grooves that wound up the base of the wand.

Then many things happened all at once. A searing burning shot through her right arm where her magical brands were and forced her to curl into herself in agony. The pain reached a fevered pitch, and she rolled over and threw up what little she had in her stomach. A snake slithered out, signaling that all the glamour she’d recently cast had been stripped away, likely by the Drasil.

Only a tremendously powerful wand could instantly wash away flesh magic glamour with a touch.

The pain continued. She writhed on the floor and moaned in agony. Tears streamed down her face, and she wanted to scream but held herself quiet, not knowing if anyone would hear.

She lay there for several minutes, shaking, until it finally stopped.

Trembling, Imani gently caressed her right arm then ripped up the sleeve. Gleaming bright purple on the top of her hand was the master witch symbol. Up farther were two new magical brands; one for elemental fire, the other for terrestrial magic.

She gasped and covered her mouth with her left hand. An accidental ascension wasn’t unheard of, but it was extremely rare. It made sense once she truly thought about it—she’d just undergone three tests of her magic with breaking both the wards, using her shadows, enchantment, and alteration, and then tapping into her wandlore magic to reconfigure the most powerful wand in the realms. While not violent tests like the princes had put them through, they were still tests all the same that had pushed her to the edge of what she thought she could do with her magic.

She slipped her Draswood into her sleeve for safekeeping, but from now on, she’d be using a new wand to cast her magic.

Shaking with excitement, Imani stood, rolling the Drasil back and forth between her fingers to remind herself it was there. The best part? It was configured for her—and only her—to use.

As the sole wielder of the Drasil, and now with a master brand, Imani would be powerful enough to save herself from all these wretched bindings and break free to go and do as she pleased. She would be one of the most powerful in Essenheim. One of the most powerful in the realm.

And no one would underestimate her ever again.

Imani could feel the Drasil wand’s magic as it warmed to life in her hands. It was like a hum, a kind of vibration that bounced against her chest.

That subservient position she’d been in with the Serpent Prince eroded further at this moment. Trepidation slipped through her that Kiran would have to start considering her an equal when he learned about the Drasil.

An equal meant a threat, and Kiran didn’t take well to threats.

CHAPTER 40

It had been two days since she’d found the Drasil, but it felt like a lifetime. She twisted it between her fingers, feeling its power ripple outward, grazing her skin. The Drasil was alive and enjoyed being wielded by its master.

Tingles broke out across her flesh, feeling like the best sort of freedom, one she’d never known. She desperately wanted to tell Kiran about Zorah and the Drasil—if anyone could appreciate such beautiful magic, it was him. But could she trust him? Gods, she wanted to. She wanted anyone to confide in whom she could truly trust.

But that would be foolish.

Midnight came that night, and still no word from Kiran.

Imani walked back and forth in her robe as unease coiled inside her. All her muscles tensed, yet the night was calm and the castle quiet. He’d been gone for nearly three weeks.

Jalton, Kiran’s third brother, had arrived from Eto earlier, tired and battle-weary. He’d told everyone that the city had fallen into significant disarray—their high sentinel was dead, and it had taken some time to get things under control there.

Respen was working quickly.

Tonight, she had practiced using all her brands with the wand, and everything came rushing out smoothly and powerfully. It was like nothing she’d ever felt. She then practiced moving with her shadows. One moment, she was in the corner of the room; the next, with her shadows coalescing around her, she’d moved to the center of the space. This was something she and Zadie had been working on for weeks—Imani became her shadows and moved with them, then materialized as herself several feet away. Finally, with the Drasil, she was starting to unlock her full potential. There was so much more to learn, but she was finally getting somewhere after months of slow learning.

Imani’s instincts told her to leave Niflheim now, that nothing could stop her from going home. The Drasil could break the binding with the throne, and she had unfinished business with several people in Essenheim. This was the perfect time to ambush them.

But a part of her couldn’t leave without Kiran. She didn’t want to separate from him and be on different sides again. She’d felt what it was like to be on his side, and she liked it.

Clenching her eyes shut, Imani fisted the wand and debated the question again. Should she tell Kiran about the wand? Would he leave his country—his family—behind if she asked him to follow her? She imagined them using this horde he was after to stop Tanyl and later ruling Essenheim together.

It was a dream she desperately wanted to realize, but several secrets were still wedged painfully between them, maintaining the wall they’d both built to keep the other out. Before, she’d protected herself behind that wall, but lately, with the Drasil in hand, Imani wanted to knock it down.

She strode to the window, and a cold breeze whispered through it, blowing her hair back from her face. Imani breathed deep. Wrapping her robe tighter around her, she tried to calm her nerves. But she couldn’t shake off the turmoil that swirled inside her. Something was off.

Minutes passed. Imani’s view from her Niflheim room was vastly superior to the one in Essenheim, and she enjoyed the sounds and sights of the bustling city.