Chapter 39
Kiran perched over Imani like a shield, his hand on her chest as his healing magic worked through the wound.
Blood streaked his back and side, yet he gave it no attention, no sign that he felt it at all.
People blurred into sound and motion, yet they remained untouched within a ward of defensive magic he’d cast.
Guards beyond Kiran’s ward caught her attention, though. Saevel pointed at Kiran and shouted something, murder written plainly across his face as he moved toward them.
“Wait,” Imani rasped.
Saevel stopped, then gave he a nod to continue.
“He’s healing me.” Speaking pulled painfully across her chest. “You want him dead, you wait until he finishes.”
His jaw worked, but he commanded everyone to stop. Imani had broken his chains, brought him back to the Throne, and handed him the chance to reclaim Niflheim. Whatever he wanted to do to his brother, he would not repay that by interrupting the magic keeping her alive.
“Until you’re safe,” Saevel said loudly.
Kiran did not even look at him.
Heat spread beneath his palm as the worst of the torn flesh began knitting together.
The bleeding slowed first, then the deeper damage closed enough that each breath stopped feeling dangerous.
He was stabilizing her, not restoring her.
Pain still burned through her chest and back whenever she moved, and she could already tell twisting or lifting either arm too far would pull at what remained open.
His head lowered until his forehead met hers, and he exhaled slowly, drawing her breath into the same rhythm as if he could anchor her there by force.
His grip adjusted to keep her from slipping, to keep her with him, then his nose brushed along hers in a slow pass, lingering at the end.
Her heart stuttered, and he slid his eyes shut with a small, satisfied smile, as if he could hear each beat inside his head.
When she looked up at him, his face had changed—open in a way she had never seen, stripped of pretense, a fierce desire laid bare beneath the strain. His mouth was set but unguarded, his expression fixed entirely on her as if nothing else existed.
“Look at me, my love… feel what happens when you’re this close to me.
Tell me you don’t want it.” His voice dropped into the space between them, low and intimate, each word meant only for her.
Breath caught in her throat, the pull of him pressing harder through her chest, through her body, leaving her with no space to think past it.
“I—” The word broke softly against her lips. He swallowed hard, and she added, “I remember.”
A small smile tugged at her mouth before she could stop it, warmth breaking through the pain as her hands lifted without thought, sliding into his hair and gripping the back of his head to draw him closer.
Their connection deepened as her fingers pressed into the thick softness of his hair, holding him in place.
“I missed you,” Kiran murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the delicate spot beneath her ear. “You’re even more beautiful as a queen.”
Everything beyond him dropped away, including the chamber, the blood, and the throne, all fading into nothing as the bond surged through her chest and spread outward in steady warmth that dulled the pain and pulled her fully into him.
His presence filled every part of her consciousness, and the bond coiled tighter in her chest, refusing to yield.
A rough growl rolled from his throat, and it pulled an answer from her without thought, a lulling purr breaking free as her body leaned into him and allowed the touch. His mouth pressed along her neck again, and she let him, nearly panting.
No, a voice roared in her head.
Awareness crashed back in all at once, the memory of what he had done slamming back and tearing through the warmth the bond had built. Rage followed just as fast, and she shoved him away, breaking free as her face twisted into an angry snarl.
“Get away from me,” she snarled.
His body jerked back in a flinch, his grip failing all at once as his arms released her, too fast to support her weight. She slipped free and hit the stone hard, breath breaking from her. Pain flared through her chest and back on impact.
Stone scraped her palms as she dragged herself backward, pushing away from him in short, uneven shoves.
He reached for her again, but she slapped his hand away.
Residual pain pulled through her chest with every breath, but she forced herself up anyway, bracing on an arm before pushing to her feet.
Imani’s back hit the wall as she tried to put as much space between them as she could stand.
Shock held him in place, his hand still lifted between them as if the moment hadn't caught up to him yet, as if he expected her to take it back. The wards fell away with his concentration broken.
“I am not yours,” she said, forcing the words through the pain, her voice steady despite it. “You know I’m mated to Ellisar now.”
Emotions flashed across his face, giving way to fear and grief, then the certainty broke when the words registered. His mouth thinned as he slowly drew himself upright to his full height.
For the first time since he’d come to her, his attention drifted to the rest of the chamber, his chest heaving. He stood bleeding in the open, and an all-encompassing silence fell over the chamber with everyone’s eyes on him.
He panted, gaze going wild. Something was hanging by a thread inside him, and Imani didn’t want to see it snap.
They had all seen the Throne strike, saw the blood that now dripped down his front. Several raised their wands and pointed them at Kiran.
Saevel approached the Throne and stared at it for a few moments, his hesitation a clear measure of the risk.
Niflheim’s Throne allowed only its true monarch to approach and wield its power, and anyone else who crossed into its magic would be killed.
If the Throne did not recognize Saevel as king, he would die before he ever reached the seat.
He let his wand slip from his sleeve into his hand and rolled his shoulders.
With several careful steps, he moved into its orbit…
and took the seat without resistance. The obsidian claimed him fully as his signature flared and held, marking him as the only one the Throne of Destruction would ever allow near it.
No one moved to deny or challenge him.
One of the oldest nobles dropped to his knees before Saevel.
Others followed, one after another, lowering themselves in sequence as acceptance took hold, while a few Niflheim courtiers remained standing, refusing to yield, their loyalty anchoring them despite everything they had witnessed.
The Essenheim delegation held firm behind Saevel, offering no interference.
Guards divided next, with some stepping uncertainly toward Kiran while others backed away from him entirely, as if proximity alone carried risk.
“Stand down,” Kiran said to the guards, the command clear and absolute. But no one moved as the idea of him as king broke under what they had all seen.
Kiran returned to Imani’s side, despite her protests and everything falling apart around him. Blood marked his body, and his breath came unevenly.
“Imani… I love you,” he said, the words raw, stripped of everything he had used to shield himself before.
He lowered himself to the ground, kneeling in front of her as if no one else watched, as if the cost meant nothing.
“I’m sorry. For all of it. I was wrong.” He dropped further, abandoning the last of his pride as his hand lifted again, stopping short of touching her this time.
“Help me,” he said through gritted teeth, each word forced through what remained of him.
“Don’t let them take everything from me.
Not like this. Not when you’re right here. ”
A slow, knowing smile curved across her mouth as she stared into those wild, mismatched eyes. “It’s too late for those pretty words,” she purred. “You built this without me. Now you can watch it fall without me.”
“Seize him,” Saevel ordered.
Imani jerked back and glanced up at Saevel. “Essenheim stands with you,” she said. “End this. Hunt him down and kill him.” Guards marched forward at once, drawing their wands. Kiran glared, snapping his wand out and angling his body away from the center as the outcome became undeniable.
With a sudden surge, the black-and-red scaled dragon at Kiran’s side lunged, its enormous mass crashing between him and the guards. The creature rose on its hind legs, unfurling its wings as its throat heated, ready to incinerate all in its path.
Still, the guards—and Esa and Lore beside her—pummeled Kiran in uneven waves of magic, the push toward him growing despite the beast’s threat.
“Out,” Saevel ordered as Kiran’s dragon’s maw opened. “Clear the chamber.” Panic followed, people scrambling for the exits.
Through the crush of bodies, Imani tracked Kiran.
He broke for the window and drove through it without slowing, stone and glass exploding outward.
Before he cleared the frame, his form shifted, reforming mid-fall.
Wings tore free in a violent transformation, and he took flight in his dragon form, black against the stormy Niflheim sky.
A deafening roar tore through the chamber as Kiran’s pet dragon also surged forward.
Fire poured from its throat, striking the wall where Kiran had escaped.
The blast cracked the structure until chunks fell away, widening the opening enough for its body to follow.
Claws tore at the remaining stone as it launched after Kiran into the open air, giving chase.
Imani looked around the room, trying to catch her breath.
Shouts rang out, and magic still rebounded off the walls.
She crouched to dodge an errant spell, then ran to the gaping hole in the wall and stared outside.
Blood spurted from Kiran’s back, the trail stretching farther with every beat of his wings, distance growing between him and the palace.
Her head bowed, and she reached behind her, where she’d stashed her wand in her waistband. The Drasil pulsed in her hand as she pulled it out, and contemplated what she’d just done.
Kiran had been annoyed with her before. Frustrated.
But now?
He would be back, and next time, he would try to kill her for the betrayal.