Page 29 of The Nymph King

Esa glanced at her and looked about ready to speak but then shut her mouth.

Imani looked away first and kept walking, and with a sigh, Esa followed.

They arrived at the ornate doors to both their rooms. A recessed alcove sat between two tall windows, furnished with a narrow upholstered bench meant for people waiting on audiences or servants carrying messages. Esa walked toward it without asking and sat.

Imani remained standing.

Esa motioned to the cushion. “Sit.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You’re rubbing a hole through your chest.”

Ripping the hand she had unconsciously pressed to her sternum, she flexed it a few times.

“I’m thinking.”

“Looks like you’re panicking.”

“I do not panic.”

The pixie’s violet eyes traveled over her. “Of course not.”

Imani glared, then dropped onto the bench with considerably more force than necessary. She pinched the bridge of her nose as the estate continued around them. Servants moved through distant corridors. A door opened and closed somewhere below. Normal life carried on despite the fact that by tomorrow morning she might kill the man responsible for protecting it all.

Her stomach twisted again. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “I came here because I needed Ellisar. I needed his army, his authority, his influence over the Norn.” Imani picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. “Proving who I am requires a sacrifice, and I knew that before I walked through his doors.”

Esa leaned back against the wall but didn’t argue.

“And if he dies,” Imani continued, “Vathis loses its High Sentinel in the middle of a political crisis. The Norn lose a powerful commander. Any alliance I might gain collapses before it begins. There are a dozen practical reasons I cannot let him touch the crown.”

“Of course.”

Imani narrowed her eyes. “You’re being irritating.”

“I learned from you.”

They sat in silence for several seconds.

Glancing down the corridor where Ellisar had disappeared, Imani tried to think logically about the issue at hand.

The problem was that the Crown of Life was deadly. No matter how Imani spun it, someone always ended up dead, even though she was only trying to prove it was real.

And that truth sat heavier than the branches around her head. The crown demanded outcomes. It chose, and everything else bowed to that choice, no matter the cost. There was no easy path forward, no version of this in which she walked away without blood on her hands.

Her hands fisted, still seeing Ellisar letting an elderly servant scold him for missing a meal without an audience. No soldiers to impress or council watching to see what kind of leader he was. Just a tired man promising an old woman he would eat dinner.

“I liked it better when I thought he was an arrogant ass,” she mumbled, sitting back against the wall with Esa.

The pixie chuckled under her breath. “Ah, yes, and therein lies the actual problem.”

“The actual problem is that tomorrow he could die,” Imani snapped.

“And you care.”

“I care whether a good High Sentinel dies unnecessarily. Who knows who will take his place?”

“Yes.”