Chapter 11
The fealty binding was to be performed by breed, and after the king’s words of warning, they wasted no time getting started.
Magnus waved Saevel forward and murmured words in his ear. The king nodded then turned to Kiran. “My son, I hear you’ve brought me something special back.”
Imani should have guessed she would be first, but it still raised her hackles.
All the shifters parted for them, and everyone’s eyes were on her. Even the brothers stared at her, but their gazes were much more penetrating, not ogling like the others.
Magnus motioned for her and Luvon to come forward.
Picking up her dress, Imani strode forward with her chin lifted.
She stepped up to the dais, right before the barrier.
The spell buzzed across her skin, and her shadows swam just below the surface of her skin.
Imani tried to keep herself relaxed, but the shadows were fevered—they sensed an incoming threat, though she tried to dismiss it as an overreaction.
Luvon followed protectively behind her, and while she saw no outward anxiety from him, his signature was tense.
In front of the dais, Imani wasn’t sure what to do. Luvon nudged her into a curtsey, and he bowed.
The king and his brothers merely kept staring.
Imani, practically trembling at the tension in the room, averted her eyes and darted a glance at Kiran.
By chance, Imani caught a rather malevolent look that clouded his brow like a heavy storm cloud.
The crowd around them faded like dying embers while his all-encompassing awareness of her lit her on fire.
But like so many of his moods, it passed in an instant, leaving only a pained tightening of the lips behind.
The king leaned back, steepling his fingers, and studied them. After a moment of silence, he shifted on the throne and fixed his piercing gaze on Imani. “You’re a true High-Norn female, no?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Imani bowed her head in response; she could hardly stare at Magnus for more than a few seconds. The beast behind his eyes was like Kiran’s, except far more present. If she looked close enough, she could see it stalking … hunting.
“Hmm. So rare to find one outside the Draswood. Why have you glamoured your soul draw, elf? I’m sure you were told I don’t like useless magic in my throne room.”
Her brow furrowed. It was out in full force, just as Kiran had told her to do, which meant monarchs could sense the echo shield. It was the only glamour she had besides the flesh magic, but that wasn’t hiding her soul draw.
Or maybe it was a guess on Magnus’s part?
Swallowing hard, Imani debated her next words. Admitting the truth seemed like the best option, but he appeared to be displeased.
Before she could respond, though, a cool voice replied, “I told her to do it, Father.”
Kiran managed to tell the lie with a blank face. Even Imani had to admit it was impressive. That he was impressive. He was a good liar, nearly as good as her. But why was he lying for her?
Magnus shot Kiran a hard look. “That was deeply unwise. You of all people know how I feel about illusion magic here.”
Imani didn’t know how either of them could stand the hypocrisy of that statement after waltzing around a heavily glamoured elf—Kiran’s common-breed mate—like a doll.
“This is different.”
Magnus offered no rebuttal to this statement. All he did was stare at his son, his expression stony.
“It would be unwise for her to let it out in this room, Father; trust me,” Kiran added.
“Do you think I am a fool, my son? I may not need magic, but I understand it.”
Kiran paused. “No, I don’t think you’re a fool,” he said slowly, clearly trying to predict where the situation was going.
“Then why are you giving me advice? I am the king. I did not ask you.” Magnus still hadn’t stopped staring at Kiran, and the tone in his voice chilled her as he continued.
“I’ve felt the power of a High-Norn female before, and this girl is hiding something with magic, sneaking around here undetected.
I have ordered this room to be free of glamour, and it will be done.
Don’t question me.” His father’s voice was like a whip, cutting through the air and drawing everyone’s attention.
Magnus sent a final dark look in his son’s direction then turned to Imani. “Are you here to put up a fight like my son?”
“No, Your Majesty. I’ll remove any glamour you sense over me.” She had no idea if the echo shield was still at work and wasn’t quite sure how to remove it, but magic was all about intention, and she would put every ounce she could into this spell.
“Good,” he said with a malicious smile.
Imani had to bite her lip to keep her mouth closed in response. At that exact moment, Magnus had looked and sounded so much like Kiran that it was difficult not to stare. The father and son were more alike than she could have imagined, and it unsettled her.
Heavy silence permeated the room, and she could feel everyone’s eyes on her.
Unhurried, she took out her wand. Then, with one sweep down her body, she muttered the incantation of an illusion spell.
As she’d hoped, the curtain of the echo shield fell, revealing first her top portion then shimmering farther down to the floor where it stripped the magic into nothing then dissipated.
With a deep breath, Imani surveyed herself.
The echo shield hadn’t been hiding much—her black scars, red brands, mangled hands, and other secrets remained hidden from the flesh magic.
She wouldn’t be vomiting any snakes in front of this crowd.
But with the echo shield entirely gone, her exposed skin brightened further to a glittering white-gold color with a halo-like glow surrounding her signature.
Her hair looked far thicker and shinier—even she couldn’t stop touching its softness.
There wasn’t a mirror, but she was sure her eyes were wider and bluer, and her silver freckles sparkled even more.
Again, she had no idea the echo shield worked so well but, apparently, it really did hide her entirely. Even when she thought her full soul draw had been out, it had been muted.
She’d underestimated the echo shield, and whatever new magic coursed through her veins made everything amplified.
Some in her thrall cried out, driven to their knees. Others could only stare at her in a daze.
This was the first time in more than a decade she’d purposely let her natural soul draw out in such raw force in front of so many people. The magnitude of her power was truly something to behold. A perfect representation of her breed, they always said.
She felt like a bright star in the sky with a hundred moons orbiting her.
At least the flesh magic held up against Magnus’s scrutiny.
The king’s glazed eyes flicked down to the leaf sigil, shining bright blue on her wrist. His lust was evident, proof of her breed.
She stared into his beautiful green eyes. In this moment, if she wanted, she could ask Magnus to quack like a duck, and he would.
Imani could get used to this, but then she remembered how easy it would be for the crowd to descend on her like a pack of wild dogs.
Her illusion and shadow magic might be enough to protect her—or it might not.
She shuddered. This was what made her kind so dangerous, and so hunted.
Especially now that she had this new magic elevating her already formidable power.
Everyone staring made nerves skitter down her spine. Indeed, she needed to play this carefully.
Luvon stood closer to her, sensing her anxious emotions. As a male elf, he’d be less affected by the thrall, and like most Norn elves, his natural instinct would be to protect her. He gripped his wand tighter as more murmuring broke out and a few breeds began shuffling forward to better see her.
The five princes watched her like she was a new species to behold. In a way, she was, if they had never seen a true High-Norn.
Well, now they had.
Saevel looked particularly hungry with his white-knuckled hands grasping the armrests of his chair.
Like always, it was Kiran who surprised her.
The youngest prince fought better than any of them against the pull of her soul draw.
His eyes pooled with darkness for a moment, somehow resisting the call, and that was it.
Nothing in his expression or body language gave away that her thrall affected him at all.
The type of cold bastard he must be to do so was unimaginable.
Even the king was smiling and happy, letting the full force of the soul draw pull him in.
It would feel delightful, after all.
With the wave of a hand, Magnus beckoned both Imani and Luvon forward. Imani stepped up to the dais, feeling the throne’s magic flutter across her skin as she entered the radius of its power. Unsure of what to do, she curtseyed again and stood up straight with her eyes averted down to the floor.
Out of her peripheral vision, Luvon had bowed as well but was looking up at the king instead. Not making eye contact but waiting for him to speak.
Magnus put his hands on his knees and leaned forward.
Then, raising a hand, the king put a crooked finger under Imani’s chin and lifted her face to his.
“You are absolutely beautiful. Look at you. And you’re a strong fighter, aren’t you, little elf?
I can see it in your eyes. A sparkling gemstone amongst the uninteresting rocks my sons have brought for me.
I’m not sure how you ended up in such a subservient position with my youngest son, but I am grateful you did.
He does have a way of getting people to do his bidding. It’s why I keep him around.”
Imani hadn’t expected to hear so much commentary from the king, but that was what the thrall did—it relaxed her prey, made them feel safe, uninhibited, and happy.
“Isn’t she a rare marvel, Saevel?” Magnus grinned at his heir apparent.
Saevel cleared his throat and tried to focus his half-lidded eyes. “Yes, Father, she is. Imani is lovely.”