Page 43 of The Nymph King

“Exactly.”

Ellisar was silent long enough that she prepared for another argument.

“Taking them in will create problems,” he finally said. “Housing. Food. Soldiers to watch the prisoners. Norn families who lost people today will object to seeing Lochheim refugees protected on our soil.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Imani put a hand on her hip. “No. Not all of it. That is why I need people who do.”

He tilted his head, yet he let her continue without speaking.

“I know what decision I’m making here.”

Still, he waited.

“They stay,” she reiterated.

Ellisar gave a single nod. “Then they stay.”

With a wave, Ellisar called for an officer. “Separate the surrendered fighters from the civilians. No one is to be turned away. Find temporary quarters for the families before nightfall.”

The officer hesitated. “All of them?”

Ellisar glanced at Imani but did not answer for her.

Her stare bore into the officer’s eyes. “All of them,” Imani stated.

The officer bowed. “Yes, my queen.”

She gave the High Sentinel a nod of appreciation, and Ellisar motioned for her to continue walking with him.

“You allow such things?” she asked, striding quickly to keep up with his long legs.

“Allow what?” He kept his face straight ahead, expression blank.

“Earlier you allowed one of your soldiers to mock you.”

“Mock? I don’t think you know what the word means. He has served with me for eleven years.”

She almost smiled. “So he’s earned the privilege?”

“He’s earned the knowledge that I won’t have him executed for being irritating.”

From behind them, the captain called, “High praise.”

Ellisar did not turn around. “Keep walking,” he shouted.

Imani bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. They fell into a companionable silence.

As the returning boats converged on the Norn-held shoreline, the fighting behind them had dwindled to scattered bursts of magic and shouted orders. The story of what Imani had done was already moving faster than they were.

Hundreds of soldiers had been scattered across the ships when the slip closed. Some had watched her from only yards away while others had seen the fracture disappear above the sea and immediately demanded to know who had done it. As the returning vessels converged on shore, men shouted the story from deck to deck, then repeated it to soldiers waiting on the beach.

When Imani eventually stepped ashore, hardly anyone in the returning ranks had not heard some version of it.

“That’s her⁠—”