Page 79 of The Serpent Prince

Tightening an arm around her so she was closer, he kissed her temple. “You’re magnificent. Now, set him free, aomagho ruya.”

Her lips pursed at the command, but she knew it was time.

A part of her enjoyed being on the same team as the prince. She curled into his side, and he kissed her temple again. Like yarn back into a box, she slowly unknotted her magic from around the archmage and pulled it back into her signature.

Kiran laced their fingers together and helped her sit down again. That hunger in his gaze hadn’t abated, and he seemed to be breathing faster than normal, but all he did was place his other hand on her face and shut his eyes for a second before settling back against the divan.

The archmage’s glazed eyes began to clear. He shook his head, as if trying to stop the world from spinning. Blinking a few times, he rolled up his sleeves, as if nothing had happened and he was simply about to get down to business. “I have to say … a mixed atrophic and nascent breed mating pair is exceedingly rare. First, though, allow me to see your archmage marking, Your Highness.”

Kiran’s face was indifferent, but he let go of her hand and showed him the top of his fist. The purple symbol gleamed.

The archmage murmured a few things, and Imani felt the spell. He nodded. “Thank you, Your Highness. Also rare for the royal family to produce an archmage. Your bloodline hasn’t for hundreds of years, correct?”

“Correct,” he deadpanned. Kiran did not like this man.

“Please hold out your markings.”

They both pulled up their sleeves. The archmage examined Kiran’s first. He scanned his arm, and Imani saw a barely perceptible flash of surprise in his expression. She glanced at his arm and realized, to her own shock, that he had no glamour covering his magic brands, including his red cadence magic brand.

The prince’s markings were remarkable. His power was unreal. Her mouth fell open a little as she counted them and took in all his magic. Terrestrial, water, fire, enchantment, illusion, defensive, conjuring, binding, alteration, healing, and two red brands—his cadence magic … and something else.

A person had twelve every hundred years in the Essenheim Kingdom. It was probably the same here based on the look from the archmage.

Possessive pride bloomed in her. Which was silly because Kiran was not her real heartmate, nor did she even really like the arrogant, sneering ass most days. Yet, for the next few days, he was hers.

She caught Kiran’s eyes, and he laced his fingers with hers again, bringing her hand to his mouth and softly kissing her inner wrist—their markings—not caring that the archmage was still looking at his other arm. He wasn’t worried in the slightest at this clearly powerful witch sensing the spell over the heartmate markings.

Suddenly, Imani wasn’t either. Not only had Kiran cast the illusion spells himself, but he’d used flesh magic to add to the strength.

Her eyes sparkled when Kiran handed Imani’s wrist over to the archmage. They were going to walk into Eto, and Imani was going to steal right from under their noses.

Her elf prince traced small, soothing circles on the back of her neck, watching the other male witch with a predatory warning while the archmage examined Imani’s heartmate marking and all eight of her brands—again, including the red one. The archmage didn’t even bat an eye at it. How common were mixed-color brands in Niflheim—or Essenheim for that matter?

“An eight-mark … still very powerful,” the archmage muttered, rubbing his fingers over Imani’s brands.

Kiran followed every movement of the man’s hands on her. Imani kept her back straight and expression focused. She looked rigid, but her body purred in relaxation as the prince’s fingers gently tingled over and over on her skin. Kiran knew it, too, from how her magic was reacting.

The archmage was done much faster with Imani than with Kiran and, honestly, Imani was a little offended. As if only Kiran was the serious threat. She fought her natural inclination to glare at him. After all, her role was the enchanting princess, not surly, plain old Imani.

Sitting back, he replaced his wand in his jacket pocket and turned to Kiran. “It was quite unbelievable to be asked to meet Prince Kiran and his heartmate … even more unbelievable when you brought her in here and I see she’s a rare Norn elf.”

“Why is that unbelievable?”

“I don’t think a female Norn has passed through these borders in five thousand years. I have never seen one. No one has. Yet here she is. You may have the rarest, most exquisite mate I’ve ever heard of or seen, Your Highness. It’s quite unbelievable.”

Zadie had been right; these people were obsessed. Imani refrained from making a dour face.

“I’m well aware,” Kiran murmured with a glare, his voice even as he continued calming her with his gentle fingers.

“Two elves … and your bond is strong.” He darted his eyes to Imani then back to Kiran. “And with her … I now understand your fierce protectiveness of her, Your Highness.” The archmage’s voice was so quiet she barely heard the last part, but Kiran had.

“Good. I don’t appreciate excessive attention on her for being a female High-Norn elf,” Kiran replied smoothly. Imani practically purred hearing that velvet soft voice with an arrogance most people could only dream of. Gods, he didn’t like this witch one bit.

“I now give you permission to enter Eto as our welcomed guests,” the dwarf said with an understanding in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Please, enjoy everything our city has to offer.”

The elf prince said nothing as he immediately stood and moved to help Imani stand, too. Within seconds, he led them through another room, back to the lifts. Their escort party was waiting, and many of them smiled at Imani. She tried to smile back, but something was still itching at her.

Had Kiran even cast a heartmate spell over them, or had he simply planned to use the protection spell as a ruse to pull out her soul draw all along? The thought chilled her.