41. Chapter 41
Chapter 41
W ith heavy lids, Imani tried to wrench her eyes open, despite the grainy texture. She tried to swallow, too, but her tongue stuck. She coughed. Her lungs burned as she shot up from the bed she’d been placed on, trying to catch her breath.
Her vision came into focus like a curtain being drawn. The ceiling above the bed became sharper, and the room stopped spinning.
Moving her head to the side, she saw Kiran lay beside her, awake and watching. Everything inside Imani bloomed with heat when their eyes met.
Exhaustion etched Kiran’s features, but his expression eased when she looked at him. Something else still played in his glassy eyes. Something like concern.
Half-asleep and still dazed from the spell, she reached her hand up to his face. The man was a bastard, to be sure, but the blood of another elf was something she didn’t want on her hands. At least, not yet.
He heaved a sigh, dragging a hand over his thick, dark hair. “I thought you were dying.”
The low, melodic tone from Kiran’s voice affected her even more this time, and she fought the urge to purr in response. A noise she’d never made in her life. Her overwrought body relaxed, oddly at ease now.
Kiran eyed her closely, absently rubbing his hand against his chest. He must have also sensed the same pressure there from the binding.
“I thought I killed you, too,” Imani whispered thickly.
It was obvious now, but the binding was too deep and would prevent either of them from killing the other. Even her shadow magic couldn’t breach it. Kiran might have gotten hurt, but the blow would never be deadly.
His features morphed into annoyance. “Sorry to disappoint.”
At his flippant words, she was hit with the absurdity of where she was. In bed with Kiran ? They were lying far too close together.
Distance. She needed space from him.
She threw her legs over the bed and found she was dressed in her nightgown again. A quick glance around told her they were not in Kiran’s room—this was somewhere else entirely in the palace.
Her robe lay discarded on the floor. Snatching it up, she wrapped it tightly around her then headed to a narrow, tall window. Blinking and shaking her hands out a bit, she ripped open the drapes, taking a moment to compose herself.
Dark clouds moved quickly as a storm brewed overhead. It was still the middle of the night. She nearly shuddered in relief.
Cracking her neck, Imani tried to remember how she had gotten into this room. Flashes of the magic they’d cast ran through her mind, and the bargain she’d made with a blood-burning binding assaulted her.
A warm hand gently curled around her neck, and she stiffened. As if checking for injuries, Kiran ran his hands over her braid and face, his other hand running lightly up her arm like he had every right to touch her. Even the way he stood and the position of his body next to hers was unmistakable in its possession.
She let him, even though she didn’t understand why.
“Where are we?” she whispered.
He pulled his hands back to his sides. “I brought you to Master Heirwyn’s rooms when you wouldn’t wake. I needed …” He trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I needed her help.”
Confusion clouded her mind. Kiran needed help?
As the magic wore off, he acted more strangely. She needed to leave.
Without a word, she shrugged him off and turned away. Slipping her wand from its pocket, she cast her illusion.
Nothing happened.
She glared as she tried again.
Nothing.
Panicking, she pulled her left sleeve up to examine her brands. She took in a sudden breath at what she found.
A detailed meshwork of red lines was now burned into the skin on top of her left hand. They crisscrossed over her scarred, previously unbranded skin and up her arm. The brand was massive .
Whipping back around, she found Kiran leaning against the wall with a ghost of a smile on his face. Something like masculine pride emanated from him. A corner of an identical brand showed on his hand, the rest covered by his sleeve.
Imani simply stared at him, unblinking, unmoving.
Powerful bindings often manifested in apparent locations to identify a bound witch quickly and deter frivolous, unnecessary magic. But not even her binding brand with Tanyl—appearing on her abdomen and lower back in a swirled design—was this blatant.
Once a person ran out of skin, it meant their bodies reached the limit of magic it would allow.
Almost no one ran out of space anymore, but she remembered Kiran’s shirtless body was covered. He probably only had a few places where any new bindings this large could appear. This must be one of them.
A marking like this would need to be glamoured if she wanted to avoid questions, magic not all had the luxury of doing. She was lucky.
Her chest tightened as a wave of fear crashed into her. “Kiran, where is my magic? Why can’t I cast?” She marched over to him, intent on violence. But this time, the binding tightened her stomach, twisting more as she moved closer. Right in front of him, she doubled over, cursing root bindings. It had gotten stronger while she’d slept.
Laughter echoed ominously in the room while she winced at the pain and hunger—insatiable hunger. He kept laughing at her, and she covered her trembling lips with her hands, waiting for it to pass. A binding like this was unprecedented.
A mess of emotions churned inside—conflict, screaming with hate, rage, want, need. Saints, she was starving . She needed to feed for her strength to return.
At least the heady effects of the binding were lessening now.
A long, thick silence fell between them as she backed away, breathing hard until the pain dulled a bit.
“Tell me what you did to me and my magic,” she said again through gritted teeth, rubbing her chest furiously. “Is this the bond between us or?—”
“What are you fucking talking about? The binding where you’re the servant of the opposing king or some imagery bond you think exists because of it?” He looked down his nose at her, void of any spark or concern. Only cold, cutting depravity played in his eyes now. It set her teeth on edge.
“I’m relieved to see you alive. It’s more than I can say for others who’ve done blood burnings with me.” He sighed. “And it would have been incredibly inconvenient to find a replacement.”
Humiliation flooded through her, pinking her cheeks. It was all obvious now that she was one of the many people he had already controlled. How many times had he manipulated and trapped others in the same way? Based on his brands, the number was too high for her to comprehend.
Replaying the events, she could see it now—all games and lies, him moving her where he wanted, controlling her, making her weak?—
A scream sat at the back of her throat, but she gave him a nasty smile instead. “You lied to me, and you’ll regret it someday,” she said, barely above a whisper. Her voice came out harsh and cold. Still, she wished it sounded colder.
“I highly doubt it.” He chuckled. “I regret many things, but this will never be one.”
“You made an enemy of me today. I will return the favor at some point,” Imani shot back.
“ Made an enemy ?” He threw his head back and laughed.
Clenching her fists so they didn’t shake, anger rooted her in place. All she could do was watch Kiran laugh.
“Fortunately for me, I have a lot of enemies,” he said, finally managing to compose himself. “So, I couldn’t give a fuck about one more.”
She gave him the finger. But he merely grinned like a proud cat who had caught the mouse.
“Yes, I lied. You know all I needed was a Norn elf desperate enough but also magically powerful to agree to such a binding, right? I was lucky to find one people wouldn’t miss much. When I return, I can’t afford anyone asking questions about my trip.”
“My siblings will ask questions.”
Pity crossed his face, but he ignored the comment. “I already told you the spell requires feeding afterward. It’s settling more, so we should complete the ritual. We didn’t take nearly enough before.”
Being here for one more moment would surely kill her. Or Kiran.
“I need to leave and meet Tanyl. Goodbye, Kiran,” she said curtly, barely throwing him a glance over her shoulder on her way out.
Moving at a speed she didn’t think possible, his hand shot out, capturing her jaw.
“You’re never feeding from him again. Never fucking him again. Am I clear, Imani?” He applied pressure until her mouth opened, tipping it up, the command of the binding practically choking her.
She mirrored his glower while attempting to call her shadows forward. “I tire of your demands, Your Highness.” Her jaw tightened in his grip. “But fine, I won’t fuck him until I find a way out of this binding.”
A menacing unkindness danced in his eyes as he studied her. The dark emotion in his lingering stare made Imani’s knees tremble. Imani had to endure it because her magic was a barely lit ember burning inside her—a wisp of smoke, as if someone had blown out the candle of her power. Even the whispers couldn’t soothe the mounting panic. For one terrible moment, she thought he had enchanted her magic to be locked again, like Ara had done.
“I swear, if you’ve taken any of my magic, I will?—”
He pushed her jaw out of his hands. “Calm down before you almost kill yourself again. I cast an echo shield, which might briefly dull some of it. Once you’re rested, it’ll be fine.” He paused. “I think. I’ve never cast one before.”
“You what ? I never agreed to have you cast any more magic on me beyond the binding.”
“Well, good thing I’m so generous. Otherwise, you might be dead. You should be thanking me.” Kiran laughed, rolling his eyes. “It’s a powerful, useful illusion spell. Until it weakens, it allows you to hide or call forward your magic at will, including your pesky shadows and nasty soul draw. So, you won’t have to remove and recast your illusion each time. And, unlike your illusion, no one can remove it. Except me.”
“Your arrogance is astounding. You don’t think there’s a witch more powerful than you?”
He chuckled. “It has nothing to do with how powerful I am. This spell is different. It reflects a person’s own magic back to them. It doesn’t matter how powerful they are; they won’t sense anything besides themselves unless you want them to. At least, until it weakens in a few months, at which point maybe I’ll cast it again for you. Maybe I won’t.” He crossed his arms. “You’re welcome, by the way, you ungrateful?—”
Before he could finish, Imani pointed her wand at his chest. “Will you shut the fuck up?” she snapped, not caring her wand was useless against him.
He opened his mouth to speak but stopped, staring down at her arms.
Currents of power vibrated under her skin. Her brands brightened and burned.
“Hmm, my magic is waking up,” she murmured, baring her own minuscule fangs.
Kiran glared at her wand when she pressed it harder into his flesh. “I told you it would come back,” he grumbled.
“Excellent. Now, out of my way.” She tilted her head to the side like he always did, her shadows gathering around her like a halo. “I hate repeating myself.”
“You’re adorable when you’re trying to be me.” A sinister smirk spread across his face. “You could never be me, though—villains don’t bargain, Imani. I take what I want and refuse to settle for anything less. Besides, I don’t know where you’d go. You need to feed to ease the root binding, and Tanyl is off limits.”
The air grew thinner, and the light grew darker. After a moment, the door opened. Master Heirwyn sailed inside, oblivious to their standoff. She stood near the edge of the bed and fixed her gaze on Imani.
“Let’s go,” Master Heirwyn said in her commanding tone.
Giving the prince a sideways glance, she saw how Kiran’s eyes drew a lazy trail down the length of the naiad nymph’s body. Flawlessly built, the nymph witch had the perfect hourglass figure, and although she was obviously older, she’d aged beautifully. The conclusion only made Imani hate the woman more.
“As fun as this has been, darling,” Kiran said, turning to Imani, “you and I both have another commitment we can’t miss now.”
“Move. I’m leaving—without you. I’ll figure out my own feeding. Maybe your brother would be interested now. Your binding has disappeared after all.”
“My, this night continues to be quite humiliating for you.” He stepped closer, threading his fingers through her hair, tilting her head back. “See, I correctly assumed you’d have difficulty accepting your position in our kingdom.”
“What position?” she asked through gritted teeth, trying to remove his hand.
He brushed his mouth against hers, even while she fought to turn her head away from his seductive lips. “An elf whore with a magical cunt, one I control,” he said simply. Kiran’s mouth turned up into a cruel smile.
Before she could respond, he grabbed her arm and pulled her out the door after the nymph.
Magic burned wildly through her veins, her anger pulsing from head to toe. But she couldn’t hurt him—the binding prevented it entirely.
She hated it even more now that the truth about him was in the open. People hadn’t been exaggerating when they’d called him a bastard and a snake.
“Where are we going?” She tried to tug her arm back, but he held her firm.
“Back to my rooms so you can feed. I’ve taken care of everything so we can finish this binding properly in the safety of my rooms. There’s more security there.”
“Who will I be feeding from?”
He ignored her question.
“I wouldn’t have sex with you if you were the last elf in the realm.”
“As I said before, good thing I refuse to sleep with Tanyl’s whore then.”
“Then who is it?”
He rolled his eyes. “Saints, you’re annoying. Master Heirwyn will supervise to make sure nothing … goes too far. It’s why we couldn’t feed earlier. We shouldn’t have done it without someone else in the room. Now, I’m ordering you to come with me.”
Her throat constricted before he had even finished the sentence.