Chapter 29
The hallway to the library was dark, as were most places inside the mountain. Without her glamour, Imani’s shadows fluttered around her body. She felt naked but free. The sconces flickered as she walked past them, darkening the passageway even more.
She’d let the shadows out a bit more than usual.
Imani didn’t trust these elves, no matter how reverent and inviting they’d been thus far.
Besides, she’d lost her constant guard of the echo shield—a security measure—and Kiran forbade her from casting a blood burning. She needed her shadows for protection.
Around a bend, she saw large wooden doors with a stocky male elf in fine-tailored clothes walking out of them. His walk stuttered when he spotted Imani coming toward him, and he narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly as he scanned her body from toe to head.
Letting her wand slip a little farther out of her sleeve, she rubbed her fingers against the smooth wood and narrowed her eyes in return.
Imani didn’t like the way he looked at her.
She might have been glamoured for most of her life, but she had still learned young to recognize when others were looking at her with desire—though this wasn’t about a desire for her blood or her body.
This, somehow, seemed even more dangerous.
That was the power of the soul draw.
She cursed silently as he strode forward with his head tilted to the side.
“You’re the elf princess,” he stated. “And they are allowing you to wander the halls unchaperoned?”
“I was invited to come to the library,” she said coolly.
“Not many venture down here. You’ll be quite alone. Let me accompany you.” His voice was like a slither across her skin.
Imani glanced down the small hallway; indeed, it was dim and dark. Utterly deserted.
He trailed the back of his hand down her cheek, and she shuddered with disgust and anger. Imani slipped her wand entirely out of her sleeve and pressed it into his cheek. She was done hating herself for all the weaknesses that came with being a high-bred female elf.
No, she hated them—the men who took advantage of her for something out of her control.
“Don’t touch me,” she spat, a glamour layered in her voice, eyes staring straight into his.
It wasn’t enough.
This was where female elves needed magic to protect themselves. It was why Imani had been forced to hide all those years without magic. Because, sometimes, the draw wasn’t enough to subdue them—it simply overtook all reason. You needed magic to overpower the draw.
She gritted her teeth, eyes burning with determination as the answer came in barely a blink.
Imani set her jaw, nudging the beast within her.
Magic thrummed through her bones, setting her blood on fire, humming as if to answer her question.
That dark power in her uncoiled, awakening from slumber.
Fight, the shadows seemed to whisper. Destroy him.
The allure of her magic called to her, a slick, oily power burning through her veins, and for a moment, Imani forgot the world.
Remembering that day with Malis, a part of her ached to set it free and harness that power. She wanted to let it loose.
Yes. Her magic was protection. Power. Her lips lifted at that. In fact, she had been waiting for this day for a while now.
But attacking him wouldn’t be prudent with them still needing to be respected guests here.
The man pulled her closer with his hand curled around her neck. She recoiled. While the soul draw was to blame, males still had some purchase over their actions … and she’d make him regret giving in to his baser nature.
With her unassuming, soft appearance, Imani counted on her opponents being downright shocked by her ruthlessness. She wasn’t disappointed.
Using her shadows to cloak him in darkness, and with a strong right hook, she punched him.
He hissed in pain, eyes widening.
When the grip her shadows had on him loosened, with a grunt, he picked her up and slammed her down.
Pain ran up her spine. With him still bent over to be sure she was hurt, she kicked him in the face in retaliation.
There was a wordless shout from their right that distracted him.
Imani didn’t hesitate, kicking at his knee, savagely happy when her foot connected with a crunching sound. It didn’t stop him.
He growled in frustration, grabbing her dress just as she made it to her feet.
Her shadows pulsed in the room, ready to turn to darkness and eliminate this threat, but Imani had to hold them back. It wouldn’t do to murder a random man while they were guests here, still working on completing their mission.
Oh, how she wished she had her illusion magic. Maybe she shouldn’t have used a spell to bind the guards Kiran had insisted she take with her everywhere. The brilliant bastard made some surprisingly good points when it came to her safety, despite some being a bit overkill.
She landed back on the ground with an oomph as he fought to pin her arms and legs. She headbutted him, pain blazing from her forehead. He didn’t rear back as she’d expected, but he did curse, the sound vicious.
She smiled.
With a sudden thud, the man slammed into her body, collapsing in a heap next to her.
Panting, Imani scrambled to get away from under him. With a grunt, she shoved his body off her completely and stared up at the other attacker.
It was Kiran who’d dealt the blow. He’d come out of nowhere, his aim precise, ramming the man’s temple just so. Not quite hard enough to kill him, but hard enough to knock him unconscious. He stared down at the male elf.
As a strange look came over his face, Imani stood up. She didn’t want more blood, or guts, or ashes on her dress if he decided he wasn’t done.
His fierceness in protecting her made Imani’s heart beat faster. Before, it might have scared her. Now, the violent madness looked good on him.
With a slow lift of his eyes, he scanned her body as if searching for injuries, and she knew he would let the man go.
Call that a favor. Call it mercy.
A few strands of long, curled hair had fallen out of her loose braid, and she had a few bruises down her back, but she was unhurt otherwise.
Imani took in the man at her feet. Flecks of blood had stained the hem of her dress from where it had dribbled from the elf’s nose.
Perhaps Imani should have been afraid of the look in the Serpent Prince’s eyes—possessive, unhinged, and wild.
Indeed, the defensiveness and near bloodlust on her behalf was startling …
but also a little intriguing. Was this part of the act?
At this moment, Imani was a bit confused about him, if she were honest with herself.
Her mouth twisted into a small grin, but she managed to stifle it. Instead, she lifted her chin and gave him a haughty look. “I had it handled.”
All Kiran did was casually lift a shoulder and give her a cruel smile. “Of course you did.” He studied the man for another moment. “May I suggest you take care to use your shadows more when you’re traipsing around this place alone, my darling?”
Kiran and Zadie claimed the shadows would keep her safe, but Imani just didn’t trust using those spells still.
The sheer power they wielded made her nervous to unleash her darkness.
And they also gave away one of her many secrets, and right now, without her glamour, Imani didn’t want to be too exposed.
Kiran inclined his head and gave her an annoyed look. “What are you doing down here, by the way? We have an event in our honor in an hour.”
The only emotion Imani could detect in Kiran’s expression was irritation, but she knew better. He was searching for cracks and weaknesses in her response to garner the truth. Then he could exploit it. He was the better opponent between the two; Imani still didn’t know enough about him.
“Looking for a book to read. You?”
“Looking for you,” he growled, opening the door and motioning for her to enter. “Let’s move. You can search for reading material later.”
Yes, he was better at exploitation and manipulation games. Although it was taking longer than Imani would have liked, bit by bit, that was changing as she spent more time with him, and she wasn’t going to waste this moment.
Imani stepped inside and let him follow, knowing they were going to be late to their own damn party.
Gazing out from the palace balcony, Imani’s mouth gaped a little at the revelry inside the mountain’s main square underground.
Fires were lit in almost every corner of the city, the smell of roasting meat thick in the air replacing the earlier scent of musk and dirt.
Men and women alike danced about in drunken glee.
It seemed as though the whole of the city had been shut down for this celebration.
There were no shops open except for the taverns and small stalls in the plazas.
If people weren’t yet inebriated, they were well on their way.
She saw Kiran glance at her from her peripheral vision, and Imani wondered what her astonishment had looked like to him. She tried to steel her features.
He put his hand on her back. “They are about to announce us. Are you ready?” His voice was softer than usual.
Imani could only blink slowly and offer a forced smile, trying to hide her dread. Interacting with the nobility of Niflheim was like entering a lion’s den. She’d had much practice in Essenheim since Tanyl had kept her hidden, but she was constantly wearing a mask.
“I’m ready whenever you are.”
He nodded and guided her forward. For now, she’d follow his lead. It was a trust she didn’t bestow easily or lightly.
They stood at the entrance to the great hall, and many eyes turned to watch them.
After a pregnant pause to eke out the most dramatic effect, the herald’s voice broke the silence. “His Royal Highness, Prince Kiran of House Ilithiana, First Witch, and his heartmate, Her Royal Highness, Princess Imani Aowyn.”
People whispered, and Kiran and Imani were soon swallowed in the crowd.
She could feel their eyes on them, and amusingly, no one seemed to know what to do with him.
The strange Mad Prince. Every interaction was a tumble of awkward bows, confused raised eyebrows, and hesitant, surprised greetings.
Some stood a while, making idle chatter, hoping to discuss politics or any number of issues surrounding the kingdom.
“Your heartmate is very beautiful,” one said slightly under his breath as he shook Kiran’s hand. They were words that were not really meant for Imani to hear. “Maybe the most beautiful elf I’ve ever seen.”
With a slight tilt of her head, she fought an eye roll at this man.
Indeed, Imani knew where this road led. With Ara as their territory’s most powerful witch, she’d been playing this game since she could talk.
Plying Kiran with compliments, the courtiers wanted something and thought—rightly—that the son of the king could help them get it.
As the king, no one except the Essenheim monarch wielded more power than Kiran’s father.
However, Kiran had heard it for the tenth time that night and seemed out of patience.
He tugged Imani slightly behind him and gave the man an assessing look.
“I’m quite aware of my heartmate’s looks, and pointing them out to me won’t do you any favors right now—trust me.
” His voice was smooth and polite but nonetheless threatening.
When Kiran lost his patience, all decorum was forgotten.
The man stuttered something then walked away. Another stepped up to take his place. And on and on it went.
Her face hurt from smiling so much, but it felt oddly comforting to have the Serpent Prince by her side, executing little touches here and there, such as holding her hand or rubbing her back. He could be magnetic and charming when he wanted to be, and he’d turned it on tonight.
It felt like hours when, really, it hadn’t even been that long.
The attention of the scores of dwarves present weighed heavily on Imani.
Amused murmurs and sneering looks followed her form.
Soon, they’d announced all the guests, and as the night wore on, the noise of the room grew deafening, the harsh brightness of it all too much.
Eventually, they were left alone for the first time all night.
Overwhelmed and dazed, Imani blinked for a second then found Kiran’s gaze locked on hers.
His green eye was gone—the pupil had swallowed all but the last of his iris, revealing the dark magic glistening in that bottomless darkness.
No creature stared out of it, but she could feel its presence.
Again, she wondered what he could shift into.
He broke away, moving his hawklike eyes around the room, almost glaring at everyone, though not quite, as he took a drink of his whiskey.
When his gaze flicked to her, a lump that Imani didn’t quite understand grew in her throat.
Lately, something about how he looked at her—heavy with an unspoken question, blue lights dancing across his face, heat radiating from his skin where he held her waist close to him—made warmth pool at her core.
“I don’t need to tell you that you’re perfect tonight, even though you are stunning.
In fact, if I hear one more person lament about it, I might tear their limbs off,” he grumbled and stole another glance around the room.
“You’ve never needed to hear it, though …
and soon, there will be no more hiding, Imani. ”
Imani gave him a confused look. There would always be a need for hiding—she was a female High-Norn elf. What was he talking about?
But he was already pulling her through the crowd toward their table for dinner.