Chapter 1
With the right motivation, her grandmother could do just about anything. Imani scrunched her nose in disgust at the prison cell's dank, dark walls. Indeed, Ara could escape anytime if she wanted it badly enough.
“I hope they're treating you well,” Imani said, attempting a few civil last words.
Ara’s face appeared between the iron bars as she laughed in response.
Laughed.
Imani ground her molars at the sound. They were too similar in many ways and had grated on each other for over a decade.
“You almost slit my throat the night before the arrest. You couldn't give a damn how they're treating me.” Aralana tried to laugh again but started coughing instead. Her blue eyes, exactly like Imani’s, glowed in the darkness, her tangled blond hair framing her once-pretty heart-shaped face. Who would have thought so much malice existed in such an unassuming, small person?
Imani watched silently for a minute, then said tightly, “Yes, well, I suppose the whole thing is rather humorous after what you’ve done to this family, especially recently. We’re practically destitute with you disappearing on us these past six months. And where has all the money been going? To those old maps you brought home? To the musty books? Because we haven’t seen the fruits of our labors for quite some time, you selfish hag.”
Ara snickered. “Open those perfect blue eyes and look around. I saved this family after what you did. Don’t waste this gift I’m giving you.”
“What gift?” Imani fought the urge to reach through the bars and choke Ara. “Your death? Oh, no need to worry. I can’t wait for you to burn tomorrow.”
“Ungrateful elf,” Ara snarled. With a snap, she tossed her supposedly confiscated wand at Imani. It tumbled to the grimy floor. “Stupid as ever despite what I’m leaving you and the sacrifices made for your life. Your parents, my heartmate, and now me. Riona, too. All dead because of you. Focus on surviving so everyone's efforts aren’t wasted.”
Guilt spread through Imani’s chest as she stared at the wand on the ground—a wand Imani’s mother made—a gift. Ara had always known how to get everyone where it hurt. No one else could dissect people’s weaknesses and mercilessly use them as leverage. Imani secretly admired such expert manipulation, except when directed at her.
She carefully picked up the wand and slipped it into her pocket. Imani wished she could wield it, but to her, it was a useless piece of wood without any magical brands. Still, it would be harder for Ara to escape without access to her magic through her wand.
That said, the fire itself would be a powerful medium. She couldn’t help but wonder if Ara had something planned while tied to the pyre tomorrow.
Imani cleared her throat, feeling less indignant. “I’m grateful for what you’ve given us all these years. It was more than most. But it doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you for being an absolute cunt for most of my life.”
“Good girl.” A crooked smile spread across the old witch’s face. “Leave forgiveness and mercy to the angel and deity breeds of the Upper realm.”
“I wouldn’t give you mercy now even if my life depended on it.” Imani’s voice held no remorse because she had no sympathy for the bitch. None whatsoever. Yet, for some reason, her heart still ached all the same. She wanted to cry, sob, and beg like she had when her grandfather died. Young people usually mourned their grandparents. Imani tried to mourn hers, too.
The emotions never came. Ara wasn’t capable of sympathy either, or many other feelings for that matter. Imani brought her face directly in front of her grandmother’s. “I’ll make sure all of us survive like always.”
“Perfect.” Ara’s grin was terrifying and feral. “You’ll need to be the one to make the choices no one else can stomach now, like I taught you.”
Imani’s lip curled in disgust. “It’s what I’ve always done, right? You know I hate you for that, too. You said nothing when we arrived in Riverlands as children, alone and three days late! You barely showed a modicum of concern. You simply took Dak from my arms and silently waited for an explanation. When I told you our parents were dead, your only reply was, ‘I see.’”
Ara nodded. “Indeed. This burden is one you’ll have to carry alone.”
“I hated you then, and I hate you now, a decade later.”
Even if her parents hadn’t died on the trip to the Naiad nymph territory of the Riverlands, Imani terrified Sven and Saria Aowyn. After what happened, they were at the end of their rope and couldn’t have her anywhere near the Draswood Forest, the Norn elves’ territory. They were getting rid of their daughter because, unlike most elven parents, Ara had no problem using a heavy hand to rein in Imani’s behavior.
“You have no idea what true hate is, but you will,” Ara said. A long pause stretched out between them.
“How inspiring. I’ll cherish such advice forever,” Imani deadpanned, steeling herself against the familiar barbs that had marked most of her adolescence and early adulthood. Ara wouldn’t miss a chance to communicate her blatant disdain for Imani even halfway to the grave.
They’d never gotten on, but Imani and Ara’s relationship further deteriorated after Imani failed to inherit any magic. It rankled the nymph witch, who expected the whole family to earn their keep. Especially the adopted one who couldn’t control her soul draw—the special compulsion magic Norn elves possessed, designed to ensnare their prey and feed on their life essence.
“We all have choices to make in life, and everyone must deal with the consequences of those choices eventually. As wrinkled, lumpy, and uncomfortable as it may be, you made your bed. Don’t you dare complain about having to lie in it, you selfish, menial piece of shit. An orphaned elf without magic. You should be grateful to have a bed at all.”
Imani fought a smile at the memory of the lesson Ara had repeatedly taught her. Locked inside the cage in the back of their shop, half-starved, Ara forced her to control her soul draw without magic. The ramification if she couldn’t? Cease to exist at all. As brutal as the punishments were, they worked.
An owl hooted directly outside the basement's narrow windows, making Imani’s heart race. Imani hated birds, and they hated her right back. She hated any beasts who reminded her of Draswood, which, unfortunately, was a great many things.
“Ahh, the owl.” Her grandmother bared her teeth at Imani's startled face. “A symbol of death.”
Imani composed herself and looked Ara straight in the eyes. “A good omen then.”
“No, because before we reach heaven, the Saints will eat us. Which means I'll be with your father shortly.”
“We'll be better off without you.”
“You'd be nothing without me.” All Ara did was stare back at her.
Imani brought her face directly in front of her grandmother's again. “What do you want? You called me here.”
“I planned to give you more answers.”
“I want absolutely nothing from you.”
The old witch merely shrugged. “With power, there's always a cost. This is yours. The sooner you accept it, the easier your life will be. Starting tomorrow, surviving, despite the hatred and loneliness, will be the hardest thing you ever do. You’ll need to figure out most things independently, Imani. It’s always been the best way you’ve learned. It’s why I opted for the cage all those years. Do it fast, though, because you'll be utterly alone once I'm gone.”
Venom laced Imani’s quiet words. “Alone? Where have you been? I have my siblings, and someday, maybe even a heartmate—”
“Your heartmate?” A loud cackle echoed against the crumbling, dark walls, cutting Imani off. “I've met your heartmate,” Ara said with a cruel smile, “and that man will hate you. In fact, he already does.”
Imani froze. “What…Wh— Who is he? We’ve met? What’s he like?” she whispered, grasping the bars.
It was almost impossible to believe she might have met her heartmate, the one elf in the whole world made from the same piece of the Fabric as her, and therefore her fated partner. And these days, to find him outside the Draswood Forest seemed inconceivable.
Before Imani could get the words out, Ara’s fist struck her face through the iron cage, knocking Imani’s head back. She steadied herself with the bars and grabbed her nose.
“You bitch,” Imani said, her voice muffled by her hand and the blood running down her mouth.
“Get a hold of yourself,” Ara said. “What I have to say about him is important.” The nymph growled, frustrated, as if some memory of him suddenly enraged her. “A heartmate can be a blessing but also a nightmare. Sharing power with someone is no light matter.”
Ara would know. She had one for decades before he died suddenly back when Imani was still a child.
Ara’s face was crushed between the bars, and her eyes looked wild. “Your father was the best divination witch I’d seen in years, and your heartmate is everything he foresaw he would be. But he’s also far worse than either of us imagined. The bastard heartmate of yours sees a partner he thinks is a poor, uneducated female with no magic. You're a humiliating weakness for him, and he'll try to kill you for it. Don’t you dare tie yourself to such a beast.”
If she didn't know any better, Imani would have thought Ara was afraid of this man.
A guard yelled from the top of the stairs, hurrying them along. With a snap of her neck, Ara’s eyes suddenly burned into her. “What that heartmate of yours doesn’t know yet, and it might take him a while to realize, is you’ll be the only thing to truly scare him. A weakness if you can’t be controlled.”
“Then he’ll have to kill me because I won’t let anyone, not even my heartmate, control me anymore.”
“With him, you might not have a choice.”
“You think after all these years with you I need to be loved so badly I’ll let some bastard manipulate me? Don’t make me laugh. I will make the life I want after you’re dead, with or without him.”
Imani gave Ara her back, ready to leave, but like before, a hand ripped her arm back faster than she expected.
“You will stay and listen to one last thing I must say, granddaughter.” Blue eyes hit her with sudden, chilling clarity. Ara’s madness was temporarily gone. “I don't give a shit about the life you want. Do you think anyone ever asked me what I wanted? As female witches, we take the fate handed to us and do our best with it. If you want any sort of life at all, you will have to accept it and fight for what you’re given. In fact, accepting everyone will soon hate and fear you will make things easier. You better start now.”
Tension hung in the air. After a long, painful silence, Imani answered in a low and threatening tone, “I meant what I said when I pressed the knife to your neck. I would have killed you if you came back. I still will. So, you’d better hope you die tomorrow. Drop any ill-conceived plans of saving yourself because it’s over.”
Ara’s unreadable expression sent a shiver down Imani’s spine. She let it roll through her, trying to steady her breathing. As Ara had said, people made their beds, and the old nymph was currently lying in hers. It was an unpleasant bed she found herself in.
What must it feel like to burn alive? Hopefully, quite painful. The consequences for conspiring with the enemy kingdom and using illegal flesh magic were steep.
“This conversation, maddening as usual, is over.” Unsettled and with her chest heaving, Imani turned away toward the door again. Losing control right now was the last image she wanted to leave the witch with before dying.
“Goodbye, Ara,” Imani shouted over her shoulder. “I'm counting the seconds until I'm rid of you.”
“You aren't even close to being rid of me,” Ara warned, getting in the last word before slinking back into the shadows.
Stomping up the stairs, Imani clenched and unclenched her fists a few times, letting the words sink in. Ara sat locked away, rotting without her wand. Yet somehow, like a general to be feared, the witch still sounded triumphant. Did her grandmother truly have an escape planned?
It wouldn’t surprise Imani one bit.
