32. Chapter 32
Chapter 32
I mani paced until she wore the carpet down before retreating to bed when the heaviness of her limbs and eyelids grew unbearable. A storm brewed outside. It had been a restless evening, and she feared it would also be a restless night.
Clear as day, her name flitted in and out of her ears. Irritation sparked in her chest, as it wasn’t time yet to wake. The night had not yet released her from its deep slumbering spell, and frustrated, she tossed and turned, tugging the covers over her head to try to drown out the voices.
Finally, she sat up with a groan at her shadows whispering her name. Despite the warm blankets, she shivered. No, not a chill—it was a familiar magic near her door.
It had to be him. Kiran’s audacity knew no bounds. How dare he? She hadn’t expected he would be on time. Keeping her waiting would have been a game to him. But she hadn’t expected him to be hours late. She contemplated ignoring him, but she couldn’t. Gaining his agreement with this bargain trumped her pride.
Slow embers burned in the hearth, and her shadows flitted around the room, flashing light, then dark, then light again as they danced and twirled between the table and her dressing room.
Letting out a quiet, frustrated groan, she grabbed her wand and the heavily embroidered robe her sister had made for her.
Unhurried , she shooed her shadows away. Her control of her magic had increased, but the darkness simply followed her everywhere like a piece of her.
The sconces pulsed and walls darkened immediately when she passed by them. She flung open the door.
Kiran paced at her door, preparing to knock.
Imani pinned him with a bland look and crossed her arms. With her hair untamed and coming loose from its braid, she was hardly intimidating. In a thin, white nightgown, her glamourless face and nightclothes made her feel naked.
Taking him in, he was in worse shape. An involuntary thrill shot through her at seeing him in such a state.
Tense and oddly disheveled, Kiran held his wand loosely in one hand and ran the other through his messy hair. Someone had unbuttoned his shirt so far she could see the fine hairs trailing down his abdomen. His pants had been hastily thrown on, and numerous pinpricks of blood dotted his forearms and hands.
It occurred to her that she liked this version of him more than any other.
Had he been in someone’s bed earlier? Where had the blood come from? Anger at how he’d kept her waiting spread through her chest.
Her robe fell, exposing her shoulder. She tugged up the sleeve and scanned him with narrowed eyes. He could see her breasts through the thin fabric if the robe slipped again.
His scrutinizing gaze searched her in return. He lingered on her chest and mouth, but with a jerk, his eyes snapped overhead to the space above the doorway.
“Why are your rooms not protected?” he asked in a low voice.
“Kiran,” she snarled in greeting, grabbing his arm. “You’re truly remarkable.”
The door closed on its own while Kiran cast defensive magic around them before rounding on her. Jaw tight, he stared. She stared right back, uncomfortable around this uncharacteristic behavior.
“You don’t have this place warded at all,” he said through clenched teeth. “How bloody stupid can you be to sleep here like this? I can’t believe Tanyl lets you stay in this room with nothing. Any witch can walk in.”
“If they come in uninvited, they won’t like the result. Besides”—Imani smiled mockingly—“what my prince lets me do—or not do—is not your problem for the time being.”
A crack of thunder boomed outside and made Kiran jump. He dug his palms into his eyes, groaning.
Imani blinked, taken aback. “What’s the matter with you?”
A beat of silence passed. “I don’t like storms … the lightning, really … and I don’t know how long I can keep doing this,” Kiran murmured to himself, mussing his hair more.
Imani gaped at this nearly vulnerable behavior from him, and she sympathized. The lightning from the Fabric event she’d caused haunted her dreams. Most nights, she could vividly see the destruction of the orchard like it was yesterday.
“Doing what?” she pressed.
“Nothing! I’m doing absolutely nothing,” he shouted, his expression darkening.
“Keep your voice down,” she snapped.
“I had no idea you slept alone like this, Imani. You need to take more precautions.”
“How dare you come into my rooms, telling me what to do? I don’t work for you yet, Kiran, so allow me a few more days of freedom, Your Highness,” she shot back.
“You don’t understand?—”
The room flashed with a bright white light from the lightning then dark again.
He scraped a trembling hand down his face and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes again.
Imani had a distinct urge to comfort him. She slowly removed his hands from his face, raising a tentative hand. They were still shaking.
“It’s only a storm, Kiran. It will pass. We are safe. I’m safe.”
He stared at their clasped hands for a moment then shut his eyes. But, a second later, he snatched his back. “You’re without any wards protecting your room or?—”
“I’m done having this conversation with you,” she cut him off. “My protection is not your concern until I’m entirely your pet to control.”
In response, he barked a low laugh, muttering something in his elvish dialect she didn’t understand.
Rain pounded against the window as Kiran wandered around her room, picking up her things randomly. He paced while mussing his hair further, picking up a book and some parchment on her desk before glancing at the furniture. Still uncertain, she didn’t stop him.
Kiran seemed calmer. But his hands trembled, and his chest heaved as he took several deep breaths. How terrified did the storms make him? Or was something else bothering him? Maybe both? Anyone could see how tired he was right now. Imani sensed it in his magic, too. The snakes in his signature writhed in agitation. He didn’t have his glamour on, either.
She admonished herself for caring. After all, he was the Prince of Snakes, a true master of deception. However, Imani’s lies were also stacking up, and she was about to turn the tables on him for something she wanted. Now who was the schemer?
For all his faults and madness, sometimes Kiran and Imani were quite similar.
The thought made her shudder.
Another crack of thunder rattled the windowpanes. Imani’s insides twisted as he sharply inhaled and scrubbed his hands up and down his face, scratching at the stubble growing in.
“What’s going on with you?” Her words came out softly. She reached for him but pulled her hand back, stopping herself.
He shot her a contemptuous look. “Are you worried about me, darling?”
As always, he’d unsettled her again when she thought she might be starting to understand him.
“I couldn’t care less,” she hit back. “But you barge into my room hours late, berating me, acting strange—even for you—which begs the question.”
“Trust me; I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t asked me to come. Your note said you’d make it worth my while, but if all you wanted was to inquire about my well-being, I’m leaving,” Kiran said, his voice tight.
Imani shoved the hair back from her forehead. She might be small and a new witch, but everyone had a fear—or a want. Learn those two facts, and she could hold power over anyone. All it took was information.
“You’re not going anywhere. I want something from you, and I know you have some nasty secrets—worse than mine.” Imani stepped closer, forcing herself to stand as tall as possible.
Kiran didn’t back away, even when they were chest to chest. Instead, he dropped his chin and played with the loose hair framing her face. “Tell me what you think you know, my darling.”
“Tell me about the divination spell you need.” Her body tingled with the pleasure of commanding such an arrogant bastard.
The elf prince shrugged lazily, his response revealing nothing. “What makes you think I need a divination spell?”
“Please. Let’s drop the pretense. I heard you in Tanyl’s room last night.”
He frowned. “I don’t believe you. I cast the silencing charm around Tanyl’s rooms myself. Besides, even if I did need this spell, I’m not asking you to make it for me.”
Kiran didn’t know just how easily she could slip through his wards.
Imani plowed on. “Why? You know I have a potential master level divination brand, and you know I value discretion.”
He reached for her hair. “I know you stole a divination mark.” He wasn’t jumping at the opportunity to admit anything, let alone agree to her help.
More silence fell as he continued twirling her hair around his finger.
When Kiran didn’t immediately respond, the pit in her stomach dropped further. The weight of failure suffocated her, getting heavier by the second.
“Your time is up,” he said, dropping her hair.
If he was going to be difficult, she had to play her only other card. She would have preferred to go with an incentive, but the threat was her best chance of surviving, and she wouldn’t waste it.
“So interesting you mention time,” she said.
Those words broke the dam. Kiran’s face contorted in ire, and magic filled the room. Flames stood still in the fireplace, like before, and the flickers from the scones froze. She waited for him to say something, but his eyes simply bore into hers until she swallowed hard.
Victory must have shown on her face, but her confidence shook as his cool gaze took her in. Imani had no idea why his magic wouldn’t work on her, but she was infinitely grateful it didn’t. Maybe her shadows were protecting her again.
The border of bright green rimming Kiran’s eye flared.
“Think about your next words carefully, Imani,” he commanded.
The words tumbled out of Imani without a thought. “I suppose this means you’re not as powerful as you thought. I might fail in outing you, but I could certainly try.”
He didn’t like hearing that one bit. He clamped his hands around her throat. He forced her eyes up to his with a squeeze.
“You don’t have to try.” His grip on my throat eased until it was more of a caress. What was he doing now? Was this a game? “You don’t know what you do to me.”
Imani took in a ragged breath, wanting to cough at the pressure. But somehow, she met and held his insane eyes, dilated to an impossible size.
“Blackmail me again or utter even one word about my magic to anyone , and I’ll show exactly why you’re in over your head as I break this perfect little body a hundred different ways. Each one will be more gruesome than the last.”
He dropped his hand but didn’t walk away. His intoxicating signature surrounded her, the scent overpowering. They locked eyes in a standoff. His eyes, filled with rage before, softened and briefly flitted down to her hands, and she followed his gaze. There was faint darkness flaring from between the fingers of her clenched fists. Not like smoke, but like?—
“What do you want?” he interrupted her thoughts, oblivious to the magic seeping out of her.
“In exchange for this spell and keeping your nasty secret, I want answers to two questions,” she said.
The male elf stayed silent but watched her with dark expectation.
She shivered and crossed her arms again to cover her hardening nipples. “First, I want to know more about myself.” She took a deep breath, unsteady at revealing one of her biggest secrets. But she wanted the truth so badly she would take the risk, especially with so much leverage over him. Besides, something hidden under Kiran’s layers made a tiny, minuscule part of her want to trust him.
With a flourish of her wand, she ripped away the flesh magic hiding her heartmate sigil. She tore up her sleeve to reveal the red stag on her arm, and there it sat next to her glamoured High-Norn leaf sigil.
“I have a heartmate,” she whispered. Then, with a delicate gag, she covered her mouth before turning to the wastebasket and throwing up a thin snake. This one’s ashes fell into the basket, much smaller than the one from Ara’s flesh magic spell.
Wiping her mouth, Imani ignored any embarrassment. Kiran would know what had happened. He practiced flesh magic.
She peered into his eyes again, undeterred. “I know who he was, but I don’t know what he was. I’ve never seen this sigil.” If she learned his breed, she’d learn her own, too.
Kiran grasped her hand and ripped it toward him, studying it, transfixed by the sigil. His thumb rubbed small circles on the red stag.
“ Was ?” Kiran asked without stopping his ministrations.
“He’s dead.”
Her answer made him shoot his eyes up to hers. A storm of unreadable emotions swirled in his green eye. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
He swallowed and dropped her wrist. “And the second demand?”
“You’ll tell me exactly who my opponent is for the third assessment.”
Kiran let his gaze slide over Imani for a full minute. “I can give you the opponent’s name after you complete the spell.”
“And my heartmate’s sigil?”
“I can’t tell you much about it.”
Her eyes flew open in disbelief. “You don’t know?”
“I don’t know.”
He was convincing—Imani had to give him that—but she couldn’t accept that as an answer.
“You’re an archmage witch, and the bloody First Witch of magic in your kingdom,” she bit out, impatient, “how do you not know everything about your kingdom’s sigils and their related breeds?”
“I do know everything about my kingdom’s sigils. But this …?” Kiran grabbed her wrist and shoved it in her face. “I can only tell you this red sigil is not from my kingdom. Ours are blue, like Essenheim’s. This is from the Under realm.”
The walls caved in on Imani. Saevel and Kiran had kept their brands glamoured since arriving in Essenheim, and Malis’s had been flayed. She’d never actually seen a Niflheim brand.
“What …? What are you saying? He’s from the Under realm?” Her heart pounded against her ribs.
“Indeed. Your heartmate is not from this kingdom or Niflheim,” he said.
“How can I be sure you’re telling the truth?”
He shrugged. “You can’t. But believe it or not, I’d like to know more about this sigil, as well.”
“Have you seen one before?” Imani asked.
“Yes. But beyond seeing it before and knowing red brands come from the Under, I can’t tell you anything about this particular sigil.” Truth rang in the prince’s words as he studied her. A gut instinct told her he was being honest. Maybe they were starting to trust each other.
Kiran cleared his throat. “Now, do we still have a bargain for the other information?”
Imani’s voice had disappeared, but she managed to nod.
Her whole life, she’d ignorantly thought Niflheim brands had to be another color. How could they be the same blue color as Essenheim brands? The kingdoms’ magic was so different from each other. Her brands were much more illegal than she’d initially thought. They didn’t even come from the Mesial Realm.
Again, she and Kiran had more in common than not.
“You have a brand from another realm. So, it’s red, as well?” She was grasping at any information she could learn.
He smirked with a hint of evilness in it. “Not part of our bargain, little elf. You already know too much.”
So, what the fuck kind of elves were she and Malis? Malis had acted like he’d been from Niflheim, but maybe he was born in another realm and grew up in Niflheim? Perhaps he was lying? Imani’s head spun with confusion and possibilities.
It struck Imani how she wished Ara were alive. Her mind kept coming back to the night in the jail when her grandmother had summoned her to provide answers, but she never had. Bloody Aralana had to know the truth about Imani’s heritage her whole life. After all, the sigil would have been glamoured since Imani had been born.
But Ara’s secrets were an untouchable mountain Imani would never climb now. This distraction wasn’t needed; she needed to focus on the final assessment.
She turned back to Kiran. “Tell me about the spell.”
Kiran sighed, a loud, exasperated sound, and took a folded paper out of his pocket. “Truthfully, I should hire someone else to cast this magic, but it’s bloody impossible to find a master witch who practices flesh magic divination around here, especially one with discretion. It will reveal someone’s heartmate, and I want to keep quiet who it is—even from my brother. I don’t think you have the skills, but I’m running out of time and options. I suppose I can let you try.” He handed it to her. “I don’t need to threaten you any more to get my point across. This stays between us.”
“I can cast divination magic just fine,” she muttered.
Unfolding the parchment, a lock of light hair—blonder than her silver but similar—rested inside.
“Since you’re an annoyingly well-read person,” he said with a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth, “I’m sure you know divination magic either seeks to predict the future or reveals the unknown in the present.”
“Yes, yes, I understand.” She waved her hand impatiently.
“This is the latter.” He inclined his head toward the paper and picked up the lock of hair, holding it in front of her face. “All we need to cast it is a physical piece of one person in the pair. In this case, a simple lock of hair will do.”
“Is this the male or the female’s hair?”
“The female’s.”
She lifted the hair to examine it more. “And whose heartmate do you want to identify with this spell?”
His response was instant. “None of your business.”
Was Kiran searching for his own heartmate?
Was he … lonely?
Imani tried to imagine Kiran with a heartmate. Would he protect and love her? Would she be as cunning as him? Would he be affectionate, like she’d seen other heartmates be with each other?
Maybe he had a soul in there somewhere after all, and yet … his behavior constantly suggested otherwise. As did the creature who peeked out from behind his eyes.
It didn’t matter. She had no idea what he wanted with this girl’s heartmate, but it was probably nothing good and likely had nothing to do with him. Tanyl said he liked to hold secrets over people, and this fit the bill.
She slit her eyes at him while slipping it into her robe’s pocket. “How will I know it worked?”
“The spell, when created correctly by someone with divination magic, will project an image of the other heartmate into a person’s mind.” He brushed some tangled strands of hair off her face. “You might actually earn a modicum of respect from me if you can create this spell.”
Too startled to question why he was touching her, she shut her eyes briefly when he dropped his forehead to hers. They remained there for a moment. The only sounds in the room were the crackling fire and pattering of rain.
It struck her that she might know more about Kiran and his secrets than anyone else in the castle right now, and she’d successfully manipulated a deal out of him.
A ruthless sort of pride bloomed in her chest.
“Try not to kill yourself, my darling,” he whispered, lips lightly brushing her brow.
Lightning flashed and lit up the room, and he was gone.