The Elf Witch |Book 1|

Chapter 35

Mere hours later, Imani stood outside with the others for the second Assessment. A biting cold wind from the Neshuin sea whipped through the courtyard where they stood, waiting for the princes.

Black veins pulsed up her hands and arms when she left her chambers earlier. It worried her how much her atrophic magic was pushing for freedom. Not even Kiran could break that illusion—it was the strongest of the many she'd cast that night. The spell had its limits, though.

It seemed Master Selhey's execution had done what Ara's hadn't—anger and grief feverishly pumped through her. Yet, despite an additional illusion spell cast on top of the flesh magic glamour, she still stood in the frigid gardens clenching and unclenching her fists, trying to keep her signature as contained as possible.

Indeed, she felt like a tinder box ready to ignite. Whispers flicked her ears back and forth, and her magic purred under her skin.

Unlike everyone else, she knew what was about to happen.

Everyone hushed and parted as the Niflheim royals strode into the crowd. Their advisors and master witches trailed close behind, ascending the viewing platform. The nymph witch was with them.

Imani bristled at their relaxed demeanors and luxurious setup. All of them were planning to watch this Assessment like bloody entertainment. Too many innocent Essenheim master witches had died in the past few days—weakening their kingdom further—and she was fresh out of patience for the slaughter of her fellow magic wielders.

Saevel laughed at something Kiran said—who smiled in return. The sight made her practically gag. Sweat covered her back as she forced herself to watch their every move.

The princes strode up to address those gathered.

More massive than any other male, Saevel didn't hide one inch of himself. Like his shifted beast form, the Niflheim's Heir's presence overpowered everything around him. Yet, his expressive green eyes continued to hold intelligence that hinted at a far more complex man than just some animal.

Unlike his brother, Kiran hid so well.

In the usual black, his jacket was pressed to perfection, hinting at the lean yet strong body beneath and how it fit his muscular shoulders. Holding his wand at his side, the younger prince appeared unassuming as he lazily scanned the crowd.

Everything about Kiran felt wrong. He'd easily be the most fearsome yet exquisite creature anywhere he went if not for the illusion he constantly wore to give the impression of mediocrity—disguising a menace she didn't understand.

"The first Assessment tested your willingness to obey execution orders without question," Saevel announced. "The second will test your ability to fight for us in battle. Today, we'll see your ability to survive in the chaos while proving your loyalty to your new kingdom by killing your brethren."

His words hung in the air, cold and final, with a heavy silence falling. People shifted their feet and glanced around, wondering who was living their last hours in this world.

"Well, well, well. No objections?" Kiran taunted with a dazzling grin. But his mismatched eyes held a haunted viciousness that spoke of imbalance. They pierced through everyone, wild as he stared head-on, daring anyone to look back.

He didn't look at her, but Imani didn't shy away. Instead, she stared right back, wondering what precisely the endless black depths in them housed.

A troubling sensation lit up inside her again. Barely there, she felt it gently pulsing deep inside her. A desire that wouldn't go – a constant yearning that skittered below her skin. She pushed it away, determined to resist any thrall Kiran attempted to put on her.