Chapter 11 #2
“Imani! You’re on a first-name basis, then? Extraordinary.” He sounded crazy, like Kiran, at that moment. The similarities between the two were astonishing.
Magnus smiled back at Imani. It wasn’t kind. “It’s been a great long while since I last saw a high-bred Norn female as perfect as you. I would very much like for you to join my court.”
The crowd behind her was surging forward, and someone reached a hand out to touch her. The throne reacted swiftly, tossing the imprudent one back so hard his head smacked on the floor and he blacked out.
“Uncivilized idiots,” Magnus roared.
Everyone practically fell over themselves to shuffle backward.
Magnus glared at them all. “No one is to ever touch these elves, especially the female. This is her new home, and my new pet will be safe in this palace. If anyone touches her, you will answer to me directly!”
Reaching to hold Imani’s chin again, the king turned to Kiran, his burning gaze fixed on the prince.
She wished he would stop touching her. “That includes you, my son. Is that why you wanted to hide her? Did you purposely cast that magic to keep her from me, Kiran? That glamour had your signature all over it,” he all but shouted at his son, and Imani remembered that Magnus was supposedly a powerful witch in his own right, despite his disdain for magic’s use in general.
The echo shield was not enough for the most powerful witch in the realm.
“I wanted to avoid a situation like this,” Kiran ground out and gestured to the glassy-eyed crowd still murmuring and inching toward Imani and Luvon. “Even with the throne’s power, with so many people, this could get out of control.”
“So you’re an expert on Norn elves, eh?”
Kiran shrugged. “I am about to be mated to one.”
Imani wanted to obliterate the throne itself with those words.
The king roughly dropped her chin and turned to face Kiran head-on. “You want this one for yourself, don’t you? I already gave you one, but you aren’t satisfied. Of course you want her. She’s more beautiful and more powerful,” he snarled at his son.
With a quick glance at Ayla, Imani felt satisfaction shiver through her.
The princess’s face was pinched in irritation, and her clenched fists gave away exactly what she thought of Magnus’s tirade.
Imani vaguely considered staring the woman in the eyes and pulling her under the thrall, too, but with the confrontation between Kiran and Magnus, she needed to focus.
There was no response from the prince to Magnus’s yelling.
Why didn’t he defend himself? Hitting back with a snarky reply seemed like the thing he’d do in this situation.
Instead, Kiran’s eyes were … empty. Desolate.
His creature was nowhere in sight. Was it afraid of the king?
Was this why the king didn’t think Kiran had any shifter power?
There was too much to understand about this complicated family, but patience was a virtue, and she would burrow deep and learn as much as she could.
Magnus stood and pointed down to the floor. “Don’t ignore me, boy. Did you think bringing me this girl would forgive what you did before you left? Well, I haven’t forgotten, and now you’ve tried to lie to me. On your knees.”
What had Kiran done? Imani’s brows wrinkled in concern.
The only hint of Kiran’s reaction was the tiny rise and fall of his shoulders.
“Do you want this female elf for yourself, Kiran?” Magnus pointed to the ground. “I said on your knees, for Saints’ sake.”
With an immovable, unreadable look on his face, Kiran finally dropped to his knees and bowed his head.
Saevel spoke up. “Father, Kiran is the one who discovered the elf and brought her into our employ. It was he who managed to bring her away from the Essenheim court to ours. We owe him our gratitude.”
Magnus ignored Saevel and bared his teeth at Kiran. “No response for your insolence? I don’t care if you found her; you specifically disobeyed me when I said no glamour. Now, show your penance. Lick. My. Boots,” Magnus growled.
Imani’s face blanched, her body literally shaking with anger in the face of King Magnus’s cruelty.
Kiran was a prick, for sure, but they all accepted his dirty work, welcomed it even—dirty work he’d used to get her under their control.
Then they treated him like this? She wanted to fill the room with darkness watching someone as powerful Kiran—someone she reluctantly respected, despite the hatred—forced low.
To think she had hoped the Dark Kingdom wasn’t as barbaric as the rumors said.
Without a word of protest, Kiran did as his father asked.
His pink tongue languidly swiped across the left boot, followed by the right one.
His moves were unhurried, and as Imani watched him subjugate himself in humiliation once again—but this time with a far larger audience than merely her and Saevel—her chest ached.
Kiran wasn’t born to bow to anyone, let alone lick shoes.
With a blink, the creature emerged behind the windows of Kiran’s eyes, and it was enraged. But, in the next blink, it was gone.
Why didn’t Kiran shift? Was it that embarrassing?
“I’ll ask you again, you ungrateful bastard: Do you want her for yourself, my son?” Then, with a wide right hook, Magnus’s fist connected with Kiran’s face, and all Kiran did was grunt in pain. Silence. Another punch. “Do you?” he shouted. Another punch. “I hate repeating myself!”
Imani put her hand to her mouth. This was what the thrall did in all its power—one word and Imani could have both these men licking her boots and doing exactly what she wanted.
It stirred their emotions to new heights, but she would not attempt to quell the argument without knowing what her shadows might do.
While she’d felt powerful before, now all she wanted to do was cast her illusion again, remove these glassy-eyed looks from their faces, and stop this madness before it careened out of control.
The prince still didn’t stop his father’s strikes. When Magnus eventually pulled back, there was blood sprayed on the floor. It covered Kiran’s teeth, too.
“Yes, of course, I want her for myself,” Kiran replied softly but defiantly. “Look at her perfection.” The elf prince gestured vaguely toward Imani’s form. “She belongs with me.” He touched his ears then pointed to his chest.
Sometimes it did feel like she belonged to him—body and soul—but Imani wasn’t stupid enough to read anything into the words. Kiran didn’t want her—he wanted her power.
Angry tears pricked her eyes at Kiran’s bitter lie.
Magnus threw his head back and laughed. All but one of Kiran’s master witches laughed with him. As if the concept of Kiran and Imani together was an absolute joke.
Ayla glared.
Saevel gripped the armrests even tighter, powerless to stop the exchange.
The prince had given the king what he wanted to hear, but it made her sick. Maybe because he was another elf, but she just hated seeing someone so powerful in this humiliating position …
She wanted to kill Magnus. In her thrall, she could do it. She could get anything she wanted with her soul draw. Indeed, if she could have gotten away with it without starting a war, she would have destroyed him and enjoyed it.
When she had the Drasil, she wouldn’t hold back. Desperation to find it shot through her limbs. The games people played with her would finally end once she held the wand in her hands.
Kiran’s jaw clenched and unclenched at the sound of their laughter.
Imani whipped her head to the side to glare at all of them. One by one, she pushed her magic into their signatures and snarled silently for them all to be quiet.
Confused, the witches’ eyes slid first to her then to Kiran, and some swore under their breaths, but they stopped, abruptly, when her magic demanded it.
It was satisfying, and Imani had a feeling Kiran’s furious reaction in private would be brutal for many of them.
She would like to be there to witness it.
Grabbing him by the arm, Magnus forced Kiran to his feet.
Kiran stumbled a little.
A low growl threatened in her chest at his treatment—Kiran didn’t deserve this.
Their eyes met. He gave her a small, subtle shake of his head, imploring her. He was pissed and wanted her to behave. She would, for his sake, and because Imani wasn’t confident enough in her magic—soul draw or shadows—to do anything that would make a difference.
She held her tongue.
She was irate at her ignorance and incompetence with her power. However, Magnus was clearly ignorant of exactly how potent her thrall could be, even after he had just experienced the hold it had over him.
When the prince straightened, he was as calm as she had ever seen him. Both father and son stood almost eye-to-eye, the exact same height. There wasn’t a reply at first, just a deep breath, then Kiran’s voice was quiet yet measured.
“We know Ayla can breed with other elves without a heartmate since she’s done it before, but we don’t know this female’s potential. I know it doesn’t make sense for her to be with me. But be careful with this one—the power of a High-Norn is nothing to trifle with.”
At the word breed, Magnus’s brow wrinkled, and he glanced at Imani with a hunger in his eyes she’d seen many times.
The smug look on Ayla’s face made Imani’s mouth thin.
Imani had never heard of any elf having children with anyone but their heartmates, but she knew it was possible.
Just extremely improbable. And Kiran was right; Imani likely wouldn’t be able to have children with anyone but her heartmate.
Still, with the hungry look on Magnus’s face, her power was already coming at a cost.
“Your counsel is noted,” the king sneered. Magnus’s voice dropped lower. “Now look what you’ve done. Gone and humiliated yourself again.” He leveled Kiran with an arrogant, disdainful look.
Oh, Imani wanted her darkness to wipe that look off his face.
The Serpent Prince didn’t deign to reply to his father, and the king’s last words were whispered in a sharp, low voice Imani could barely hear, even as close as she was. “Get out of my sight.”
Kiran’s jaw clamped down, his teeth grinding. His fury was subtle compared to someone like Saevel, but Imani knew it could be just as lethal. Each time the king backed his son into a corner, it forced the already-twisted elf to quietly fight harder.
Tendrils of fear wound around her chest. One day, Kiran would break. It might not be soon, but it was inevitable.
She watched Kiran walk away, admiring the profile of his beautiful, masculine features, and she thought of the way his fire and his storms had obliterated dozens of people, or more, in just minutes.
They hadn’t the time to cry out in pain before they were extinguished into nothing but ash.
It felt like he’d been holding back even then.
The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced of one thing: With Dialora dead, if anyone was as powerful as Magnus now, it was Kiran. No matter what Tanyl was doing to make people believe he was king, it could not compare to the immense magic Kiran possessed.
Magnus turned back to the crowd, his arms wide as he stared down at the elves with pride.
“These elves will work for our Council of Royal Magic. I will have them accompany my sons on the upcoming emissary of peace campaign to strengthen relations with the elves around our kingdom and start to show them the power of a combined Essenheim and Niflheim Kingdom.” He paused.
“Meanwhile, my heir apparent will take on the task of hunting down the traitor—my son—Respen and bring him to justice. We’ll stop at nothing to prevent his madness from spreading. ”
Surprised, Imani’s brows shot to her hairline.
She glanced at Luvon, who had a similar look on his face.
Traveling the Niflheim Kingdom was something she had never imagined she’d be able to do.
It was the perfect opportunity to look for the Drasil, but it also meant she was under the throne’s power more than just Kiran’s.
With Saevel’s departure, it also meant she had no one to feed from and no information to safely pass along.
Would she ever live without shackles?
Some days, it was hard to believe.
She had to find the Drasil.