Page 111 of The Nymph King

They pressed on with purpose, climbing steadily toward Kehomel as the storm raged and the trail narrowed. Silence filled the air as the mountain city loomed closer, an inevitable encounter drawing nearer, whether they felt ready or not.

CHAPTER 33

The palace, with its unbroken obsidian lines dominating the horizon, rose before them as Esa led them onto the grounds without breaking stride. Restorers had erased every fracture Kiran had caused months earlier. Gleaming even in the darkness and storm, the ancient building had been repaired with exacting care, leaving no visible trace of the destruction. This was not a place recovering from upheaval as Imani had expected, but one fully reestablished under Kiran’s rule.

Esa presented the official parlay invitation with confidence, holding it just long enough for the seal to be verified. The guards examined its authenticity for several moments, then waved them through, but their wary looks suggested they accepted the invitation more out of obligation than out of genuine hospitality.

A guard stepped forward before they could move farther, his posture formal but his attention discerning. “We will escort you during your stay,” he said, looking over each of them in turn.

Lore’s face blanched. “Escort,” he repeated.

“For your security,” the guard replied, already turning toward the man approaching from the corridor.

The newcomer wore a dark military coat fastened high at the throat, with a narrow silver insignia pinned over one shoulder. He was lean, dark-haired, and old enough that faint lines had formed around his mouth.

“Captain Vaelor Renn,” he said, giving a shallow nod. “I have been assigned to your delegation for the duration of your stay. I will ensure you reach your quarters and remain… accommodated.”

The pause before the final word made the threat obvious.

“Then lead,” Imani said, gesturing ahead.

Their group followed the escort inside, and Imani’s head involuntarily tipped back at the grandeur she found.

The architects had reconstructed the palace interior with great precision, designing each corridor carefully to prevent neglect or decay. The stone walls appeared smooth and seamless, illuminated at consistent intervals. Guards stood strategically, not clustered but spaced out to observe discreetly. Their commanding presence created a constant aura of authority as the group moved further inward.

As they delved deeper, Imani saw that every intersection was monitored, avoiding natural gaps or blind spots.

Captain Renn guided them up two narrow staircases and through a succession of guarded corridors without offering conversation. At every intersection, another guard watched them pass, then looked to Renn for acknowledgment. Twice, Imani caught movement in the gallery above them, including a dark uniform disappearing behind a column only after their group had passed. Renn might have been their official escort, but he was clearly not the only person tracking them.

Staff showed them into a spacious guest suite paneled in black wood and pale stone. A low fire burned behind a carved iron grate, warming a sitting area arranged around a rectangular table large enough for maps or meals. Heavy curtains framed two narrow windows overlooking an enclosed inner courtyard rather than the city, and an enormous bed stood behind a partial dividing wall at the far end. A washstand, wardrobe, and silver water service had been prepared with almost insulting thoroughness.

Luxury did little to disguise the room’s purpose. Only one door led to the corridor, no adjoining chamber, and the windows were too narrow for an easy escape. Even the furniture left the center of the room exposed from the entrance, giving anyone who opened the door an immediate view of its occupants.

The door clicked shut behind the escort. Imani didn’t wait for the sound to fade before advancing further into the room, her focus singular as the others followed, the space finally feeling usable. Lore exhaled through his nose and briefly kneaded the back of his neck, as if shaking off the corridors’ restraint. Esa lingered near the door a moment longer, listening carefully before fully entering. Meira stayed close to the room’s edge, her gaze darting quickly around.

“We have little time,” Imani said. Standing by the table, she rested her hands on it briefly before moving on. “The summit doesn’t begin until this evening. Our window is closing in just a few hours.” Her fingers tapped once against the wood. “We move now, and find him before Kiran suspects anything.”

Esa shifted her weight lightly, folding her arms as her eyes flicked to the door and back. “And once the summit begins,” she said, “we’re confined.”

“Yes,” Imani nodded. “After that, they’ll observe, test, and control every move we make.”

“I’m going with you,” Meira declared before the silence grew longer. Her composure was slipping as her hands clenched at her sides, and she spoke quickly. “If you’re navigating the palace, through the dungeons, I’m coming with you.”

“No,” Esa said instantly, her response nearly a snarl. “We need every person watching each other’s back. You can confirm the bond when we return. If you come with us, part of that attention goes to you.”

“I’m not asking anyone to protect me,” Meira shot back, lifting her chin. “I can help⁠—”

“That isn’t what I mean.” Esa stepped closer. “The moment you feel him, you’re going to want to follow that bond. If you rush ahead, we have to decide whether to follow you. If Kiran threatens him, we have to wonder whether you’ll abandon the plan. If you freeze, someone has to move you. Every second we spend managing what Saevel does to your judgment is a second we aren’t watching Kiran’s guards.”

Meira’s jaw set.

“You’re too invested in someone you haven’t even met,” Esa continued. “It makes you another risk we have to account for.”

Her sister’s breath caught just enough to show the insult landed.

“She’s coming with us,” Imani announced, her tone decisive enough to halt the conversation before it escalated. Both of them turned to face her.

Esa pressed a finger to the bridge of her nose. “Imani⁠—”