Page 20 of The Serpent Prince

“Fine. If you want to kill five people, that has nothing to do with me. Your choice, not mine.”

“I’ll kill five because you failed to choose one.”

“No, you’ll kill five because you want to. Because you’re a murderous cunt who can’t take responsibility for killing someone. Or five someones.”

Insults like that rolled off Kiran. Fed him. His eyes flashed with cruel delight, and he bared his teeth. “I am who I am.” He put his hands behind his back and started walking between the criminals, looking them up and down. “My world is one of torment, torture, and violence. What you have seen me do is a fraction of what goes on every second in this place. And I am arguably its worst prince, as they say.”

“Barbaric is what you are.”

“You’re not in Essenheim anymore, little elf. I recommend you keep remembering that fact.”

Imani snarled, “I won’t do it. You already saved me; I’d rather take the punishment than participate in this uncivilized execution game⁠—”

Quickly, his hand wrapped around her throat, almost cutting off her air. His eyes had bled black, and his beast stared out at her. Was he in control?

Her thoughts jumbled together, and it was all she could do to try to breathe. She fought the fear that crept up her neck.

Weak. She was weak.

While struggling to breathe, Imani tried to imagine what the Drasil would feel like—would it be gnarled wood? Smooth and clean? Such daydreams calmed her nerves.

One day, he would pay for such beastly behavior.

Finally, he let her go with a shove. She toppled to the ground and accidentally bit her tongue. Blood filled her mouth, and her anger at him threatened to reach a fevered pitch.

She wanted to choke him back. She wanted to choke something. But she couldn’t—not now at least, unless she wanted to end up in this circle of dead men. So, after a composing moment, she pushed herself up with her palms flat on the ground and spat a few drops of blood out. She stood, breathing slowly, shutting out the world around her, and ran her tongue along the inside of her teeth, holding back a smartass reply.

A long silence stretched between them.

“I’m ordering you to do this as the First Witch of the Royal Council you now work for, so do it—now.” Kiran crossed his arms as the preternatural entity inside him blinked out from behind his eyes.

Power—not her own—slithered through her, an intentional display meant to warn her against fighting him. A strange trembling vibrated in her bones, making her skin sensitive and prickly with anticipation, fury, calm. The binding was kicking in. Disobedience would not be tolerated or rewarded. She would do this or suffer the consequences, one of which would be death.

The prince tilted his head as if waiting for her decision.

Imani’s eyes almost teared up. She hated that power he held over her, hated cowering to him, but with the binding responding to Kiran’s demand, she had no choice if she wanted to live.

Someday, she’d break free of all these bindings, and Saints help her enemies when she did.

CHAPTER 7

Adetermined mask fell over her face. He wanted proof? She’d give it to him.

Not sparing a glance for Kiran, she stepped in front of the man at the end.

He was a low breed of some kind, and trembling violently. With a hand on his shoulder, she let the vision take over her mind.

A rush of current surrounded him, and water poured into his mouth. Bobbing up and down, he floundered for purchase before going under again and again … until, finally, never coming back up.

She stepped back and shook her head then moved on.

In a bed, surrounded by people, he lay prone and unmoving.

No, not him.

The next was a young man with a stony look on his face. While others were shivering and shaking in fear, his back was straight, face unmoved. She let her hand fall onto his shoulder, and still, he didn’t move.

Saevel stood over the man, his wand out, pointing straight at his forehead. All four other criminals bracketed him⁠—