Page 82 of The Serpent Prince

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.

CHAPTER 30

The chatter during the lavish meal bored Imani to tears, and all she could do was drink enough wine to satiate that boredom. Her eyes blurred, and the conversation faded slightly until the topic landed on her home kingdom.

“The borders are a disaster,” one courtier said while taking a sip of his wine. “Your Highness, does your father have plans to secure them? Gods know we can’t depend on that pretender to the north to take care of it with his own problems. He’s too busy hunting down the real monarch and killing those who oppose him while he’s at it. And they call us savages.”

Flicking back and forth, Imani’s ears perked up at that statement. It was almost unbelievable that Tanyl would do something so brash.

“Who says the Essenheim king is a pretender?” she asked softly, hoping her voice wasn’t slurring.

It was the first she’d spoken all night, and every single eye landed on her.

“Rumors are rampant the true monarch is in hiding, Princess, because the crown on Tanyl’s head has some peculiarities. It isn’t passing the typical tests they put the new monarchs through. So, now the Essenheim king is dealing with rebellion from the pixies, and the Norn have remained neutral, as always, but for how long? Plus, the borders have been a nightmare. And, really, I think our king should do something about it.”

“Rest assured,” Kiran replied smoothly, “these problems will work themselves out soon.”

Ah. There it was—the elvish charm. The façade.

“Oh, enough politics,” a woman dripping in jewels said, swiping her wine from the table. She turned to the prince, her eyes glittering like the diamonds she wore. “It’s so lucky when elves find their heartmates.” She grazed the top of Kiran’s hand and leaned closer. “It’s becoming even rarer for elves to have children, but at least we still can within our own breed. Rare, but it happens.”

Kiran gave the other female elf a curious look.

Imani wanted to swat her away, but her hand remained still, resting on the table next to him.

Kiran slowly ran his fingertips over Imani’s before lacing their hands together. “Yes, I am lucky to have found her,” he murmured, holding Imani’s hand in his lap and brushing his other hand over her fingers, playing with them.

“Indeed. I’ve never seen a prettier female,” the other woman said flatly then smiled seductively at Kiran and lightly touched his arm. “You are certain to have the most beautiful little ones, Your Highness.”

Imani shot daggers at the woman. She had a passing thought to set her hair on fire for touching Kiran like that—for even looking at him. Instead, she forced a smile and curled her fist into a tight ball.