Page 132 of The Serpent Prince

While he might buy himself some time to reflect tonight, his regrets would eat him alive if he didn’t harden his heart. Indeed, he had no choice but to move forward with his plans, which included crushing Imani’s schemes and conquering her … as soon as possible.

Zadie rolled out a large map of the Mesial realm on the nearby table. “Where will she go first?”

Kiran pressed his fingers to his lips, thinking. She was exiled from the Norn elves, but she wouldn’t approach the pixies without Esa, nor would she attempt to persuade the shifters without more support behind her.

He pointed to the cluster of trees near the border. “The Draswood. She’ll go to Ellisar first.” The thought made a surge of jealous rage move through his muscles. Kiran had heard of the young high sentinel’s power, not to mention he was one of the strongest witches in the realm. He wasn’t particularly power-hungry, hence why he had been holed up in the Draswood all these years. But it was well known he was getting serious about finding a mate. When he saw the Mesial realm’s new, beautiful queen, the high sentinel of the Norn elves would be highly interested in Imani and her magic.

Kiran would crush him.

“Then we don’t have time to waste,” Zadie said grimly, rolling up the map. “We must unite our people and fully instill confidence in your rule—immediately.”

The hum in Kiran’s blood grew, the buzz in his skin intensified, stronger than he’d felt before, and that ancient sense of knowledge rose deep from his pain.

He was near the throne. The magic was working.

It amplified his powers and had protected this castle for the king for ten thousand years—no one could ever truly destroy the entire building. Parts could be damaged, as he had done the other night, but taking control of Niflheim was impossible without the throne’s power. And now it was his.

Of course, it wasn’t truly his, but a result of the blood-burning spell, which had allowed him to access the power and almost killed him when he’d cast it. And as he sat languidly down on its golden seat, he knew it had all been worth the agony. It made him wonder how Imani had accessed the crown’s power.

His lovely heartmate had looked like his most beautiful dream with all those flowers and leaves growing from her perfect brow. Oh, how he missed her.

The pain startled him.

Shaking his head, he tried to push her out of his head and stood up.

Everyone in the room stood with him.

“Nobles and vassals of Niflheim, today, you’ll swear fealty to me and me alone. My father and brothers are dead. I am king. Anyone who refuses will die.” The coldness in his tone chilled Kiran to his black soul.

Sitting gracefully back down, he took out his wand and tapped it lightly against the throne as the first high sentinel approached. Then the second, and the third, then the lords underneath them lined up. The whole thing was rather tedious, but he agreed with Zadie that it needed to be done.

At the end of the procession, a man glaring in the back caught Kiran’s attention. He tilted his head at an angle. “You did not bend the knee with the other lords, Lord Stratos. Is watching more interesting than paying fealty to your king?” Kiran’s voice was a loud baritone—not quite threatening, but powerful.

The nobleman stiffened, still glaring, and placed his hand on the pommel of his sword. “I simply don’t feel the need to acquiesce to a snake of a traitor.”

Kiran let out a huffy breath, almost smiling. Traitor?

He stood from the throne, and everyone backed away, clearing a path for him. Kiran slowly moved to come to stand in front of the nobleman, his shifter height towering over the siren. “It seems you are the only one who thinks I am not worthy of the crown I wear.” He leaned forward, both hands on the man’s shoulders, squeezing as a maniacal grin spread slowly across his face. “Would you like to try to take it from me?”

With a hard swallow, the man’s demeanor changed from obstinate to tentative as he glanced at the throne. It vibrated the air, sensing a threat.

“You … you don’t deserve it, you snake of a prince.”

At that, Kiran snapped.

Drawing a blade from his hip, with preternatural strength, Kiran plunged it into the siren’s guts and twisted viciously. He felt the man’s breath whoosh out before he wrenched it from his body.

“Anyone else think I’m a traitor?” He spread his arms wide, the same manic grin stuck on his face. He felt unhinged and ready to murder anyone who threatened his reign.

Blood dripped down his hand and onto the floor. He just smiled wider at the sight.

Another nobleman rushed him; Kiran was ready.

Like a whip, he whirled and slashed his throat. Blood sprayed as he went down. Kiran laughed.

“This is what happens when you tell lies about your king and insult him.”

As another man moved toward him, he let loose a side that he’d always known existed—but kept leashed—in a feat of violence. His muscles flexed, eyes blazing as he swept his arm in a wide arch and kicked the man down from the chest.