Page 26 of The Nymph King

The tension in the room was so thick it felt like a blade pressed against her skin.

Without moving, Ellisar held up a piece of paper from his chair’s armrest.

“Is this you, Lady Aowyn?”

“It’s Your Majesty,” she corrected through gritted teeth, then nodded. “And yes, that’s my face.”

“Your Majesty, you say? That remains to be determined.” A cold glare cut through her confidence.

“So you answer to the impostor king, Tanyl, do you?” Imani asked brazenly.

Ellisar’s eyes hardened into stones. “I answer to no one,” he said darkly.

She swallowed hard. When she looked at him, her face heated and her breathing quickened. Kiran should be more afraid of this man, was the first thought that came to her mind as she took in Ellisar’s calculated demeanor. There was no madness in his eyes, as there might be in Kiran’s—just cold, cunning intelligence. The Norn flipped his wand between his fingers, and the air nearest his hand rippled faintly before smoothing again.

Aside from Kiran, the male Norn elf might be the most dangerous person in both kingdoms.

She seemed to be alone in that opinion, given the lack of attention he received and the scant information available about him. But it was true.

Imani brushed a few errant strands of hair from her face as she took one of the open seats closest to Ellisar. Esa followed suit. Imani let the silence hang heavy in the room as she stared back at the High Sentinel. She had to tilt her head quite a bit, but she didn’t mind. “How can I prove to you that I am the rightful heir to the Essenheim Kingdom?”

Ellisar sat back in his chair, still toying with his wand. “Now, that is the question, isn’t it?”

His eyes locked onto Imani’s, almost an exact match of the same blue, and she resisted the urge to point at her own head. “You can see the crown.”

“I can see what appears to be the Crown of Life,” Ellisar corrected.

“It’s fused to my skull.”

“A glamour can imitate roots growing through skin just as easily as it can imitate flowers, blood, or bone.” His attention moved briefly over the living branches woven through her hair. “Tanyl is wearing a crown too, according to half the reports coming out of Stralas. If appearances could settle the matter, I would already have two queens and a king claiming divine legitimacy.”

Imani’s knuckles whitened around her wand. “Gavin saw what happened when one of his men cut it.”

Ellisar remained impassive. “Gavin is a low-ranking soldier who took it upon himself to hire mercenaries and hunt you down because he hoped finding you would improve his standing. Those men are not part of my army.”

“They watched five people die.”

“And if Gavin wants prestige badly enough, he has every reason to exaggerate what he saw. His mercenaries have every reason to support the man paying them.” Ellisar leaned back. “I am not deciding the succession of Essenheim because Gavin arrived at my gate with an impressive story.”

Imani hated that she understood the logic. “So, you trust no one.”

“Not with this.”

Imani let out a soft exhale. The crown itself was absolute proof of the monarch it chose. The problem was proving that what everyone saw on Imani’s head was truly the crown. Glamour could imitate even something that appeared physically fused to her body. Only direct contact with the real crown—or power impossible for an impostor to reproduce—could settle the question.

“And if I can, will you ally with us against the impostor king?” she demanded, her voice ringing through the chamber.

“Hard to say. I need to know whether I can trust you.”

“Trust takes time.”

“Or one big sacrifice.”

“It seems the only way to prove the truth on demand is to have someone try to remove it from my head,” Imani stated resolutely.

“Ahh, but that would kill them if you’re telling the truth.”

Imani sighed. “It’s the only way without putting the rest of your people in danger.”