The Elf Witch |Book 1|

Chapter 23

"I'm sure the prince is more than happy to oblige," Imani muttered.

"I assume he hasn't been successful?"

"Not for lack of trying, I heard—or at least pretending to try for his father's sake. But he probably needs his heartmate to have children, like your kind. Who knows, though; this is all gossip and pure speculation," Esa waved her hand dismissively.

"Does Saevel have a mate?" Imani tried to remain nonchalant.

"I have no idea. No one's mentioned one," Esa replied carefully, shooting her a sharp sideways glance.

"Even if he found his heartmate, It's rare for an Ilithana to bind to one, chosen or fated, that requires sharing power and being monogamous."

They walked in silence for a few moments.

"I would be cautious about getting into bed with either of them," Esa said when they reached their rooms,

"Both princes have been enjoying whores since crossing the border. Nasty stories from this past week are circulating, and let's just say they like it rough."

Imani gave her a pointed look. "I can handle rough."

Esa grabbed her arm, and they stopped. "I'm the last person who'd make the mistake of underestimating you. But this diplomatic honor? You should do what you can to not get chosen. Their Assessments are a death sentence."

Her friend would be disappointed.

"If you had to, would that stop you?"

"Of course not," Esa said simply. Then she turned on her heel, leaving Imani alone in the hallway.

- - -

Imani only slept about half the night and spent the early morning hours restless. Esa said they would be calling them at first light, and her chest and stomach ached with that tug of hunger, that need. But all she could do was wait, her guilt worsening by the hour.

Getting chosen felt like a betrayal of the worst kind, but she couldn't let this chance slip away.

Esa and Imani walked silently to the main ballroom as the sun rose and the feelings intensified. She rubbed her chest again.

Conversation filled the room. It seemed many of the witches knew each other. Esa kept her eyes ahead but leaned closer to Imani. "You look good—real good. You feel like a high bred Norn female for the first time since I met you. Gods, you even smell different. You're welcome for the warning, by the way. We're not going to survive this with our raw magical talent."

She agreed. Her entire look this morning was on purpose, and her illusion was light. She kept her feeding draw locked up but wanted to appear like a Norn elf. Next, she adjusted her breasts, displayed in the emerald dress her sister had made for her. With its fitted waist and low-cut neck, Imani knew it showed her important assets despite her size.

"I don't see Ellisar or Gorre anywhere," Esa muttered darkly.

"Looks like my Sentinel and yours aren't interested in obeying the Royal Order or the Queen."

No surprise there.

There were a hundred thousand more high-bred Norn elves, but the likelihood she'd meet any remained low—as expected, they'd deliberately chosen to ignore this mandate. As a result, elves living in the Draswood enjoyed the freedom, safety, and protection they never had in the Riverlands.

Practically as magically powerful as a monarch, the High Sentinel of the Norn elves ruled his territory like an independent kingdom. As far as Imani knew, until yesterday, Ellisar was the only other witch alive rumored to be a twelve-mark.

Vathis was almost as impenetrable as Stralas itself, especially to uninvited outsiders. Imani spent the first decade of her life in the massive city in the forest's center and knew firsthand how treacherous and foreboding the forest surrounding Vathis could be.

A powerful magical entity on its own, only the Norn could understand the Draswood's secrets. But that didn't mean it was less dangerous. Her fingers instinctively brushed over the hidden black scarring on her cheek.

Attacking and invading the Norn elves would be utterly foolish with the escalating southern conflict.

Imani didn't know about the High Sentinel of the Sprite pixies. If Gorre was like Esa, he probably laughed when they summoned him. He couldn't offer the same protection as Ellisar. Hundreds of pixies were in the room.

Everyone seemed nervous. Even experienced, powerful witches' eyes darted around. Immediately, Imani started taking in the competition.

The First Witch instructed them to arrange themselves by sigil, breed, then low, com and high bred. Almost everyone was a high breed of some kind, and two shifter groups took up half the space in the center of the room, with two nymph kinds smattering behind them.

Pixies assembled around the room's edges, including Esa and maybe twenty others. The Mooreland pixies had typical Sprite wings—delicate-looking, rose-colored butterfly ones that shimmered with pale green dots at the apex. The Trow, or the Meadowland pixies, had moth-like wings that were more beige with bold, russet accents and tips fringed with black.

Some kept theirs tucked up tight against their backs, but others like Esa left them out, floating effortlessly behind them as the edges furl and unfurl. A Trow let hers out, and while they weren't as vibrant or as lively as a Sprite's wings, something about their softness, the graceful way they danced in the air, made them entrancing to watch.

All had blue hair, and none looked friendly to each other. Indeed, it appeared to be a veritable glare fest.

Lore and Esa seemed to ignore each other but stood close together. Before losing them in the crowd, the male pixie pressed his hand to her back, and Esa let him without a word.

After a turn around the room, she finally spotted three male elves standing in the back with severe looks. Imani assumed at least Master Selhey would be here, but her mentor wasn't with them.

It struck her that this was the most she'd been around her kind since leaving home.

The men's gazes narrowed as she approached. None bothered to hide their surprise at the sight of her.

Far taller and stockier than Master Selhey, the male elves were strikingly masculine compared to her form. But otherwise, the silver hair, blue eyes, and shimmering pale complexions were unmistakable.

Magic rolled off them, and feeling it slam into her, she felt like crying to be around more of her kind.

Still, Imani could sense an undercurrent of worry emanating from all three men.

Desperate to end the uncomfortable moment, Imani pressed her hands together on her chest and nodded a formal greeting.

They responded similarly, then one moved closer and murmured a question to her in rapid Elvish.

Grasping the basics of Norn still, some familiar words jumped out to her.

Was she here alone?

It wasn't accusatory—he seemed genuinely concerned and shocked to find an unmated female elf alone here. Now their reaction made sense.

Nodding, she switched to the common tongue and explained how she grew up in the Riverlands.

Their concern lessened, but she could feel a swell of their sympathy and sadness. Imani bit back a snap. She didn't need pity—and especially didn't want it in front of the Niflheim princes.

Imani smothered those feelings back down where they belonged.

They seemed to accept her explanation, so she told them about her home and how her grandmother had been a high-bred Naiad witch from a southern border village.

For a few moments, the conversation flowed easily.

Suddenly, one elf jerked his chin towards the open door, whispering to another. While Imani didn't understand the words, they relaxed, but the leader gave her a confused, almost pleading look.

"Our apologies for our response earlier. It was our mistake that we assumed you were alone—"

The room went quiet but for a few murmured whispers.