The Elf Witch |Book 1|

Chapter 37

Stars blinked through the windowpanes lining the stairs to Tanyl's apartments, and Imani's boots clicked loudly across the marble floor.

Imani walked assuredly with her head held high—as if she lived there—imagining a momentary fantasy that she was Queen Consort and did live in these rooms. The whole palace fell into an eerie calm in the days after the melee ended, and with no one in the halls to watch this little display, she let herself indulge.

Everyone knew death was possible during Assessments, and she thought such a large amount would warrant more comments. But the Crown didn't say anything. Imani had a feeling they actively worked to sweep it under the rug because, suddenly, courtiers related to the dead witches returned home. Any master witches who spoke out against the Assessments were assigned a new job away from Stralas.

Unbelievable.

The horror of her gruesome crime against the male elf should have been eating her alive—but her mind had never been quite right. In horror's place, the need for justice settled in her bones and heart.

While going down the hallway, Imani's mind wandered to the night of her second report. It had come and gone faster than she anticipated, and much to her ire, Kiran gave her a pittance of information. All he revealed was the nature of the Assessment—paired combat—and she'd learned nothing since that night.

Combat with magic was still her weakest skill, and a one-on-one fight in front of an audience meant she couldn't run and hide. Without leverage, she felt the days counting down to her execution instead of victory. So, in the past day, Imani had focused her waking hours on either preparing for the final Assessment or gathering information on the Niflheim princes. At this point, she desperately needed to uncover anything meaningful to get more details on the duel.

Imani let herself in at the door, commanding a tiny tendril of the night to slip under the door through all Tanyl's wards and locks. His spells felt particularly nasty tonight. She sensed a new silencing enchantment, which was too much even for the prince.

Moments after stepping inside, a guard made her jump in surprise. He stood with his hand outstretched, halting her. "Tanyl would kill me if I allowed you to trespass through his rooms right now," he said.

Exhausted and running on too little patience, she brandished her wand and pointed it at him in an obvious threat. "And I will kill you if you don't move out of my way."

He balked, flustered, then moved aside like a good soldier. Tanyl certainly wouldn't like that, but she was exhausted and starving, her patience non-existent.

Usually, a calm and quiet sanctuary for Tanyl, she was surprised to hear tense voices spilling into the hallway. While not quite an argument, the heated dialogue made her ears twitch back and forth. Suddenly the voices grew louder—one measured, the other hissing. Now it seemed to be an argument. Who would Tanyl be having such an intense conversation with at this hour? It must have been unexpected—Tanyl cleared his schedule on the nights he spent with Imani.

"You have no right to demand that," the Essenheim prince yelled.

Imani positioned herself just behind the wall and hid in the shadows of the hallway, casting her invisibility illusion.

Tanyl swore, and someone laughed.

Her skin prickled. Melodic yet mocking, with an edge of sensuality to it, she recognized the laugh immediately.

Peering around the wall, she shouldn't have been shocked. But her mouth still fell open at the sight in front of her.

In two chairs positioned near the fireplace, angled towards each other, sat the Serpent Prince and the Essenheim Heir Apparent. Tanyl's features contorted into a furious glare, his body so rigid he appeared seconds away from attacking. Across from him, Kiran looked like a lion. He lounged as if he were merely chatting with a friend. Or a child. His hands steepled, displaying that maddening smirk.