Two days later, she broke into the princes' rooms again.
Despite the thicker magic coming off it and a nasty heat signature warning people away, at her command, it rushed around her like a broken dam, stripping away the glamour over her appearance.
She smirked as she stepped over the threshold in her mostly true form.
"She gave us everything. All the proof, ready to go," a man's voice drifted down the hall.
The orange glow from the fire lit everything up as she approached, including the three men standing together near it. The sight made her freeze.
A million scenarios for why they were here were running through her mind, and none were good.
"If you bring this to the Queen, she'll have to take it seriously," the other replied.
"The magic was—" the first man cut himself off, staring at Imani. He glanced at her and then back to the prince. A slow, wicked smile spread across his nymph face. "Well, well, well, Lady Aowyn."
Her grandmother met with the men's father on a few occasions years ago—all business—and on more significant transactions, she and Riona always accompanied. So, while they'd seen her years before with her glamour on, he still knew her.
Imani stood firm, unflinching despite the weight of their heavy stares.
"What a nice surprise, Imani," Kiran deadpanned in a tone that suggested the opposite before he turned to the brothers. "I wasn't aware that either of you personally knew Lady Aowyn." The prince's face remained impassive, but a muscle in his jaw tightened, and she knew right then that she shouldn't have let herself inside his rooms.
In no way did Imani personally know the sons of the High Sentinel of the Naiads. But she kept her mouth closed in a thin line.
"I wasn't aware that you did either, Kiran," Selwyn countered smugly. "My, she's certainly more grown up than she was all those years ago," he said as his eyes lowered to her breasts with heat banking in his electric-blue gaze. "I always knew you'd be pretty, never this, though."
Her lips parted, breathing short and shallow—still, she stayed silent.
The younger brother, Maelon, leaned against the wall and studied her curiously. She suspected her magic had taken hold of him already and chastised herself again for her carelessness and arrogance in barging in here. He shook his head, stepping closer to Imani. "Hmm, indeed. It's a shame the prince here—"
—He didn't get to finish because Kiran slammed his fist into the second man's jaw. A sound like crunching bones and a muffled groan, then the body fell onto the floor.
Kiran stared for a moment at what used to be the High Sentinel's oldest son. Then his boot slammed into his head, knocking away his wand and forcing the man onto his back.
Selwyn opened his mouth to protest. The prince didn't let him, grabbing him by his hair and smashing his head against the marble above the hearth.
"What part about not talking about anything did you not understand? Let—" he smashed his head. "—me" another smash, "—remind you!" Kiran yelled, hammering the man's head against the fireplace mantle. Stone crumbled onto the floor, mixing with the blood.
Yet Kiran didn't stop.
"You don't talk about my business to anyone." Smash. "You don't mention me, ever." Smash. "And you sure as shit don't call me anything but Your Highness."
Crush. Slam. Smash. The prince didn't hold back, and she cringed every time. Imani exhaled as he finally released his head, now covered in blood and flesh. Utterly destroyed.
No emotions showed on Kiran's face as he let the body fall to the ground. He likely died after the first two hits into the wall, but the prince wanted this nymph's head to come off his shoulders.
Rolling his shoulders, Kiran began pacing. Then with a choked laugh, he tugged on his hair with both hands like he was working on composing himself.
Imani felt mesmerized, watching his muscles tense with his wild gaze dragging over the room. His chest was heaving, covered in blood splotches, scrubbing his hands down his face, looking both devastating and positively insane.
Actually, Imani knew without a doubt that the man was positively insane. It didn't take a master witch to see that fact.
She fought a crazed urge to close the distance between them—a sick, despicable notion.
Brushing his hair off his brow and wiping blood off his face, he stared at the bodies around him just as another fool stepped in. This unknown nymph instantly stilled, looking with his mouth open at the blood, down at Imani, and up at Kiran.
Kiran rolled his eyes. "Are all Naiads this stupid?" He asked no one in particular, reaching for his wand as he tried to turn and run. But Kiran sliced off his legs with one swipe, and the nymph fell.
The prince strolled over and cocked his head to the side at his sobs and screams. Then laughed again and winked at him. "I did warn you that you and your brothers should have never made this deal with me if you couldn't keep your mouths shut."
He blasted a hole through the man's face with his magic, and again, the blood splattered onto his face. He groaned in irritation once more at the mess before turning to Imani.
She'd watched scenes like this before. It didn't happen often, but violence was unavoidable if you sold magic. But her current situation with the princes was far more dangerous than she'd wanted to admit. And it made her afraid. Not because she was afraid to die at their hands—she wasn't scared to die—but because it made her stomach drop at what her kingdom would face.
The fact that Kiran made a deal with the sons of a High Sentinel, then murdered them seemingly on a whim in his room in Essenheim's palace, told her just how little the Crown threatened them and how deep the Niflheim Kingdom had infiltrated.
Two choices laid out in front of Imani now—tell Tanyl and expose herself or keep quiet and let the Niflheim Kingdom continue tightening the noose around their neck. Neither of which sat well with her.
Ripping off his bloodstained shirt, the elf prince continued ignoring her, even while she crept closer and openly studied the multitude of markings and scars covering his body, surprised and mildly shocked.
Witches collected brands like this all over their bodies the longer they practiced magic. The only spells that didn't leave a mark were illusion ones. Hundreds of defensive spells, enhancement spells, and mate bindings were burned into the skin somewhere when the magic embedded inside a signature.
Over the years, Imani had seen all kinds of low breeds working for the large covens, and most had bodies like Kiran's, covered in nasty markings—brands from binding magic mostly—but also various scars everywhere. Hell, even her own body had more binding brands and marks than most high-breed females, but he was a prince.
"Still breaking into my rooms, I see." His voice shattered the strange silence between them. "I've killed people for less."
The warning slithered over her. A logical response would have been to stay still, give Kiran the information he wanted, then try to get out of there quickly.
She was starting to understand Kiran better and knew that wouldn't keep her safe from him.
Without a thought, she drew herself up to her full height, as insubstantial as it was, and let her magic signature surround her before sauntering to stand before him. Her hands ran up and down his arms almost of their own accord.
He let her, his expression flickering to one of curiosity.
"You're not going to kill me. Not when I can easily share what I just saw with Tanyl," she whispered, tilting her head to watch his reaction.
Wildness still shone in his gaze as he slid his eyes shut for a moment, and she felt his body relax under her palms. Warmth spread through her hearing his soft inhale when she moved to touch his chest.
Such power she held at this moment. It was an effort to prevent her hands from roaming further to coax more sounds like that from Kiran.
"All three of those witches were participating in the Assessments."
And Kiran controlled all the Essenheim witches participating in his Assessments. He would say that they died in the first test, and no one would question it.
Before she could say anything else, he placed his hand over hers, stopping it. "I could kill you, though. I'm a savage, remember? Anything's possible when I sense a threat." He smirked at her, one glowing eye glinting from the fire. "But I won't."
He picked up a lock of her hair, wrapping it around his finger, and she couldn't move.
"I should cut all my hair off and give it to you since you seem so interested in it," she said, her voice more breathless than she intended.
"I'm interested in every part of you, Imani."
Her name on his lips and his words sent something shivering through her. That strange feeling of recognition settled in her bones again, horror and delight all at once.
With a sobered expression, he pulled back. "But no, I won't kill you tonight."
He turned in a silent directive for her to follow.
With a pause, she took in the bodies of the High Naiad males—the Sentinel's sons.
It was then that Imani understood threats would get her nowhere regarding Kiran. If someone was in his way, he simply killed them. Outside of the monarchs and his brothers, it didn't seem like there would be many people Kiran couldn't cut down.
To survive around people like him, everyone always needed to ensure they were more valuable alive than dead. She needed to find something he desired badly enough to hold absolute power over someone like Kiran. Trailing a shirtless Kiran into the next room, Imani discovered a whore waiting for them. The fire cracked awkwardly when no one spoke, and Imani narrowed her eyes at the woman.
Now lounging in a chair, Kiran didn't seem to sense her discomfort. Or he didn't care. Probably the latter. He lazily began unbuttoning his pants in greeting, watching them with a spark of amusement in his eyes. She wondered if he would be amused if she got naked and made this whore service her instead.
"This is a female of your kind, isn't it?"
"Indeed. Quite observant you are," Kiran deadpanned, still undressing.
"I've never seen a female elf before, your highness," the whore murmured, eyes widening with surprise before turning back to him. "They didn't tell me there'd be two elves feeding from me."
An emotion too brief to name passed over Kiran's face. "She won't be feeding from you."
Imani tried to reign in her emotions, but her blood continued steadily heating at the scene she knew was about to unfold. Caught in her thrall already, the whore didn't wait for a response before pinning her gaze back on Imani.
Clad in nothing more than a dressing gown, the woman surveyed her with a demure smile. Then, she let the robe fall, pooled on the floor, and sauntered closer. Imani noted her sigil—a common breed. A Satyr Shifter.
"I want to touch her, though. She's beautiful—"
"—Get away from me," Imani snarled and tried to shove her. She had nothing against this woman personally, but she wasn't in the mood to be toyed with by anyone.
"None of this tonight." Kiran's arm wrapped firmly around her waist as she lunged.
She groaned, struggling, but he held her tight against him as her braid came loose, strands falling over her eyes and brow. Finally, she stilled.
"Let go of me," she demanded, her voice flat.
He did, turning her around. They both watched each other.
"I absolutely adore these territorial displays from you," he murmured.
Imani opened her mouth to protest.
Kiran's hands moved up to her face, silencing her. Then, lightly holding her cheeks, a dark malicious expression shone on his face as his forehead dropped to hers. "But I need you to behave, my darling."
Her heart plummeted as he backed away and traced his fingers down the column of her neck, his voice lowering. "I'm a busy man, and you'll find I'm very good at multitasking."
Blinking a few times, not knowing how to respond, Imani stood there like an idiot as he walked away.
Across the room, Kiran still observed her. His face was unreadable, that disconcerting eye glinting under half-closed lids. For once, the seemingly ever-present cocky smile was gone. Instead, he kept staring at her, silently removing all his clothes.
She was about to watch Kiran have sex with a whore, a blatant display of his power over her, meant to demean and mock her.
Fury burned her chest as lust and loathing fought within her core.