Page 66 of The Serpent Prince

“Fuck yo⁠—”

“Gods, you’re fucking annoying.” Imani punched her again. And again. And once more. “Tell. Me.”

A ragged, deep panting filled the air around them as the female cried.

“I won’t look at him,” Ayla choked out. “I … I wasn’t with him today. He denied me. I swear, I thought he⁠—”

Another punch. “You thought wrong,” Imani snarled, slamming Ayla’s body to the ground. “You made a mistake coming here to threaten me with one of my biggest, darkest secrets. I can’t risk you telling anyone.”

So Imani struck again, and again, and again. After a moment, her hand was so slick with blood that it caked underneath her fingernails. Not even the rain could wash it away, and the combination of water and blood made her hands slippery—numb.

Imani felt that numbness, everything inside her collapsing into decaying dust.

A soul started materializing above the body.

Blinking harshly, Imani stared down at Ayla and felt nothing except anger that the woman had been stupid enough to threaten her. Imani was angry at Kiran, too, for letting such a conniving woman into his life. Or letting his father manipulate him into it. Ayla would be alive otherwise.

Imani kicked the elf in the ribs once before stepping over her dead body.

Her shadows were tearing at her skin to get free. She’d exercised immense control over them during the altercation, but she was done with that.

She took a deep breath, extending her wand toward the body.

Now.

An explosion of darkness surrounded her in black nothingness. The spray of blood and guts from Ayla’s body splattered against her face and chest.

It took seconds, and the void was so deep Imani couldn’t see her hand in front of her as she pointed her wand outward to pull them back in.

As the darkness cleared, what little remained of Ayla was sprayed on the trees and a bit on the ground. The rain was already washing it away, but some parts remained. Mostly dust and remnants from her bones.

Finally, Imani cast an alteration spell to clean the prolific amount of remains covering the area, as well as her body and dress.

Unlike with Malis, she wouldn’t leave anything silly, like bones, behind this time.

Glancing around, she nodded at her work. The woods were pristine except for one spirit—a coalescing ball of light—that lingered near the treetops.

Sighing, Imani held out her arms above her head, calling the spirit forward. With one deep breath, she took the ball of light inside her and felt it nestle inside her own chest, a feeling of fullness taking over her body. Imani wondered again if there was a way to call the souls back from inside her body—could she save them or did she just obliterate them into nothing?

She still didn’t understand.

But it felt good to get rid of Ayla.

Glancing at the perfectly restored forest, Imani turned on her heel. “Godsdamn Kiran, ruining my morning walk,” Imani muttered, straightening her dress as she strolled out of the forest.

CHAPTER 24

Lying in bed, Imani watched the dawn light sneak in through a crack in the curtain to stretch its pale fingers across the ceiling. She knew Kiran and Zadie would learn Ayla was gone today, and while the mysterious disappearance of the traitorous princess might beguile some, Kiran and Zadie would recognize the work of her magic right away.

Imani was truly a murderer now. A killer. A slaughterer. With many deaths on her hands, she was no better than Ara. A vile, despicable creature. A monster.

There was freedom in accepting what she had become.

Imani wasn’t going to hide from it or deny the truth, either—she had killed Ayla for being a traitor and for endangering her life with her threats. She also found it quite advantageous to be rid of the other female Norn elf—Kiran would still need an elf to accompany him to the dwarves as his mate, and Imani intended for it to be her.

After a sharp knock, her door opened before she could give permission to enter. Zadie and Kiran strode into the room, looking far too put-together for the early morning hour.

Imani sat straight up in bed, pulling the covers closer to her chest to find some measure of decorum. Her unglamoured hair was untamed and framed her face, the long ends curling slightly at the tops of her breasts, helping to conceal them further.