Chapter 25
For the first time in her life, Imani boarded a steam-powered vehicle called a train. While she resented Kiran’s comments about her sheltered upbringing, he was correct—she’d hardly seen the true wonders of the world.
Her eyes were wide with awe, and she couldn’t stop rubbing her hands over the soft leather covering the luxurious seats. A permanent smile covered her face as she marveled at all the little details.
Kiran sat opposite her. Today, he wasn’t the usual taunting, mercurial prince Imani knew.
Today, he was stoic, and his profile commanded power.
She could feel him gathering his magic inside him, building as he prepared to enter the dangerous city of these other elves.
Imani was finding out that the elf prince was so much more than he let people see.
They had hours together before the train would arrive in the dwarves’ territory, deep in the mountain, and Kiran stared out the window, rubbing a coin between his fingers over and over. She’d never seen him nervous before. But they’d never done something so dangerous and daunting before.
Imani checked the jewels in her hair for the tenth time and prayed they could pull it off.
Kiran sporadically turned his attention on Imani to lecture her at random moments during their journey.
After a while, she was ready to throttle him if he said one more word to her.
Zadie had already spent the last three days pushing information into Imani’s head, ordering her about, demanding perfection.
If it wasn’t for the tantalizing opportunity to search for the History of Royal Bloodlines book and possibly even the Drasil, she might have protested more at such domineering behavior.
“Are you listening to me?” Kiran interrupted her thoughts. “You need to listen to me, or we risk the whole thing,” he demanded.
Imani waved him off, silently agreeing.
He narrowed his eyes as she turned her head to gaze out the window. That penetrating gaze burned into the back of her neck until she felt it stray away. When he ignored her again, she peeked through her lashes to see him turned away from her, staring vaguely in the distance.
Eyes turning to slits, Imani tried to examine him.
His nose was perfect and straight, and his lips, although usually formed in some form of a sneer or unreadable expression, were alluring.
Even now, that perfect brow was furrowed, and he held the back of his hand pressed to his mouth, thinking.
No doubt, the Serpent Prince had serious thoughts running through his mind.
Imani wondered what they were. Reading his physical tells was getting easier and easier, but his inner thoughts remained elusive. Even with his expression set somewhere between irritation at her and boredom at the situation, Kiran’s thoughts were a mystery.
And with such striking looks, it was impressive how he managed to remain inconspicuous with his glamour magic. But today, he had brought his best self out in full force for the dwarves. With no illusion, he was a fearsome specimen to behold.
Did Zadie lecture him on his looks, as well?
Of course, she had. He’d never show himself so blatantly like he was now if she hadn’t.
Just as Imani had come well-groomed and dressed impeccably for their journey, he’d done the same. Covered entirely in black, his dress pants and shirt hinted that he was a lean but muscular male without giving anything else away.
Taking in the prince’s entire appearance, Imani fought a grin.
As long as he didn’t speak, pretending to be mated to Kiran would be quite enjoyable.
Shifting slightly in her seat, Imani felt somewhat insecure about her looks, something she’d never felt before.
Maybe she’d thought it about her magic skills, lack of schooling, or even her accent.
Most of the time, she wanted to be known as an intelligent, cunning female rather than pretty … unless it suited her, which it did now.
These elves needed to believe she was Kiran’s equal in all things.
All. Things.
Suddenly, his eyes found hers. Tingles shot through her body in response, feeling that powerful masculine energy focused on her.
She forced herself to hold his gaze, drawn to his blinding green eye and the other black one.
Where all jewel mountain elves had blue eyes like Imani’s, he had the beautiful green eyes of the Drow elves and the shifters.
Again, she wondered about his black eye.
What happened to him?
Nothing good, she concluded.
He looked about ready to say something, but then he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and turned his attention back to the window.
Imani wanted his eyes back on her.
“When will you cast the heartmate illusion?” Her voice sounded blasé, yet she was anything but that at the moment. “I’m assuming you perfected it, no?”
He met her gaze head-on. “Of course I did. I can cast it now, if you’d like.”
“You figured it out without flesh magic?”
“I didn’t say that, but all you need to know is that it will work.”
“Let’s get this over with then.” She leaned back in her seat and tried to look casual.
“Did you remove all the glamour from yourself last night, even the one over your red shadow magic brand?”
She nodded and held out her arms.
“Good. I’ll replace it.”
He grabbed both her wrists so gently she wanted to lean into the soothing touch. For a few seconds, he studied the markings, free from glamour.
The large, red trinity symbol dominated all the others, and her heartmate’s matching stag sigil remained next to her identical one.
Kiran traced his thumb around it. He blinked, and for a second, the beast stared out from inside him.
His hands tightened around her wrists. With another blink, it was gone, and his wand was out in his hand.
Tapping her wrist three times, he muttered a spell in Elvish. The red lines for her heartmate swirled into the intricate, blue leaf symbol with a triangle around it. His Drow elf sigil—the letter X, also with a triangle around it—also appeared.
A warm hand curled around her neck as he pulled her closer and waved his wand over his own wrist. Where there was nothing on his skin for his heartmate, suddenly the High-Norn elf sigil was there.
That familiar blue leaf instantly appeared in the spot next to his Drow elf one.
Winding and bleeding further together, they both entwined themselves—a symbol that they had completed the three heartmate rituals—and stopped moving.
She liked the way they looked together. This was an improvement from the mysterious and unsettling red stags. Even if Kiran was an irritating, prickly princeling, she would much rather these marks stay on her skin.
Maybe she’d ask him to keep the illusion just so she didn’t have to look at those red monstrosities anymore.
“Is that it?”
“No, there’s one more part.” He pulled her closer until their foreheads were touching. He placed his wand over her heart and said another Elvish incantation. His hand trembled slightly. Was Kiran nervous?
Air was sucked from her lungs with such force that she whimpered a little. The end of Kiran’s wand was glowing and sparkling with a white light. He touched the tip to his chest, and the light disappeared.
“What was that?” Imani rubbed her chest, feeling a hole there.
“A piece of your soul. Now take out your wand.”
She blinked in surprise. “What? I didn’t agree to this.”
He shrugged. “This is what will fool the heartmate defensive spells they have in place.”
Imani looked around then sighed. She let her wand slip from her inner sleeve into her hand.
“Repeat the same spell on me,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse.
Imani moved closer and placed the tip of her Draswood over his heart. She could feel it pounding through the wand.
Recalling the incantation, she repeated it much slower, in stuttered Elvish. The same glow appeared, and Kiran gasped, nuzzling his nose against hers. He squeezed his eyes shut as Imani slowly moved the light to her own heart. With a few more words, the light slipped inside to fill the gaping hole.
A wholeness she’d never felt settled inside her chest.
This was different from feeding but similar. It connected them in a way she’d only felt with feeding.
Close as they were, their breaths mingled. Imani felt him ghost his lips over hers, and a hunger like she’d never felt slammed into her. She deepened the kiss.
A groan escaped his throat, but he pulled away. “Later,” he panted. “Later, darling, I promise.”
“Why? We’re alone in this private compartment,” Imani asked, bewildered at being called darling by Kiran in such a loving way.
He still held her close, tracing small circles on the delicate skin beneath her ear with his thumb as he dropped kisses into her hair. “Because someone could easily enter, and I don’t want to risk anyone seeing your true feeding draw. Because I would have to kill them.”
Chest still heaving, Imani pulled out of his grasp and sat back heavily, frustration coursing through her. All he cared about was appearances. How did he lock down his emotions so easily? Hers were about to boil over.
She rubbed her chest, where warmth spread outward from her heart. Such a strange yet lovely sensation.
She needed a distraction.
“Do you ever wonder when you’ll meet your heartmate? Or what she’s like?” she murmured, touching her finger to his sigil on her arm.
“No, I don’t. Not anymore,” he stated, barely audible as he distractedly stared out the window.
“Why?” she pressed. She’d certainly wondered about hers since learning that Malis wasn’t, and a small part of her desperately yearned to meet the one destined for her.
“What would be the point?” he said simply, still distracted, cracking his knuckles. There was that nervousness again that said they were walking into a lion’s den.
“There wouldn’t be. A silly fantasy,” she mumbled. Learning his opinion of his real heartmate gave her an idea of what the next few days would be like pretending with him. Hopefully, he could throw together some semblance of emotion for her.
They rode in silence after that.
Deep inside the mountain, the train slowed. Imani grabbed her wand and bit her lip again to hide her trepidation as it became darker and colder. Kiran ran a hand over his hair again and took a deep breath, although it still looked perfect.
They rolled to a full stop, and the second they did, he grabbed her cloak. It was a gorgeous, fur-lined one with diamonds woven into the clasp. Everything she owned now was of the utmost quality and beauty.
Still holding the cloak, but not moving to put it on her, he gave her a judgmental once-over for several seconds. She endured his heavy stare.
Finally, he nodded.
She stood, reaching for the cloak. He ignored her and wrapped it around her shoulders, his expression unreadable as he focused on making sure it was secured tight around her.
Her hair had been elaborately braided with diamonds woven in throughout, although a piece kept falling out against her cheek. He tucked it behind her ear, searching her face. She couldn’t understand what the look he leveled down at her meant. What any of these looks meant.
She scowled and crossed her arms. “What? Let’s get the criticism out of the way before we get in there, Kiran. It may not be illusion magic, but I know I have enough makeup on to hide the scarring.” Her brow raised in an obvious challenge.
A strange silence passed between them.
He watched the light reflect off the diamonds in her hair.
“I have none, aomagho ruya,” he said softly, brushing his fingers across her face.
“You’re perfect. Everyone will fall instantly in love with you, like everyone does,” he murmured almost to himself.
He looked around outside at the people gathering like animals observing their alphas. “Why do you think I brought you here?”
Smugness settled on her face. She knew where she stood—a tool and nothing more—but the little compliment would sustain her confidence for a while.