The Elf Witch |Book 1|

Chapter 14

Sweat covered her palms at the conversation ahead, but she wanted to get this over to assuage the master witch's suspicion.

Downstairs, through winding corridors with soft, sumptuous black carpet, Imani allowed herself to look around the atrium. Her head tilted back as she gazed at the gleaming, glass-painted windows.

She knew her glamour wasn't hiding her anymore—Esa made it clear all it did was dull the intensity and made her feeding draw tolerable. Those were her choices; everyone should be allowed control over their appearances, deciding what people saw and when without others being suspicious.

Groups of courtiers milled around, stealing glances while maids, laundresses and other staff openly watched, too. Watched her. Their eyes fell on her sharp pointed ears and sapphire velvet, form-fitting dress.

Despite all her efforts to fade into the background, Imani was a curiosity.

Even fixing her gaze straight ahead, she couldn't help but see the muted colors that appeared to be the court's fashion this winter. Women wore boxy-shaped dresses, all in some drab shade. Unfortunately, both made elves look like corpses with their pale complexions. Unlike the shapeless fashion the courtiers wore, her dress cut a bright slash through the crowds and hugged every curve down her body.

The intelligent thing to do was to toss out all the dresses and glamour her face more to blend in. But she couldn't even think about doing such a thing. So instead, she held her head high with every right to be here. Meira was a registered high bred Norn elf, and Imani would wear her sister's clothes no matter how much they stared.

Trying to ignore the looks, Imani focused on the luxury around her. Everything they passed appeared gilded in gold or marble, and she gaped at the paintings, vases, rugs and ornate scones lighting the vast hallways.

The leering looks finally thinned when they moved up a winding, carpeted staircase.

Everything in this wing looked less polished than the rest of the palace. The carpets frayed in some places, less decor hung on the walls, and paint peeled in various corners. Its remote location in the court seemed odd as well. It was as if the Crown tried to shove the distinguished Royal Order of Magic into the attic and forget about them.

In a long hallway, the servant took her to the one lone door and opened it. She stepped past him and found herself in a large open room, watching two men engaged in a rather intense but clearly friendly dual.

Furniture sat piled off to the side. Looking over the garden, half a dozen tall windows lined the outer wall. One man, a broad-shouldered pixie, shot some enchantment that slammed the other man into the wall. The pixie's sleeves were almost in ribbons, and he had a massive slice down the front with a big gash visible down his lean abdomen.

Her back stiffened in surprise as the other, a nymph with short dark blonde hair, sent one of the chairs across the room and smashed it into his companion. Unlike the pix, the nymph had somehow lost his shirt, and sweat glistened on every inch of his golden skin while he braced his hands on his knees, panting.

Suddenly, both snapped their gazes toward her.

Imani hoped her face conveyed blank annoyance. Despite her hammering heart, she slowly held the paper between two fingers. "I was summoned here. Likely by the master who arrived yesterday with the new witches. Have you seen him?"

"Lady Aowyn," the shirtless one greeted her with a lazy smile.

She crossed her arms, about to unleash a snarky comment about him putting a shirt on. But she held her tongue. Meira wouldn't say anything so crass.