Page 73 of The Nymph King

Unlocked.

They slipped inside.

The room appeared to belong to a noblewoman who had already left for the festivities. Silk dresses spilled over a velvet chaise while a half-empty glass of wine sat beside a clutter of jeweled pins on the vanity.

“This should work,” Imani said, already stripping off her drab gray servant’s uniform, letting it pool on the floor, then moving to the wardrobe. She skipped the display gowns and slid into a dress that was a bit too tight but still worked. It was spun in pale tones and silver threads meant to catch the eye.

Perfect, she thought, smoothing the wrinkles away

At the mirror, she let her hair fall loose over her shoulders.

Her hand paused at the Crown of Life. The glamour was the only reason she had crossed half the palace without an alarm. Once she dropped it, every servant, guard, noble, and witch who knew her face could identify her.

Ellisar’s warning surfaced again.

No one improvises.

Too late.

Imani waved her wand and released the illusion. The branches settled against her brow with a familiar, vibrating weight, their shining gold leaves catching the dim light. It pulsed with a faint, thrumming life, raw power.

When she met her own eyes in the glass, the servant was gone.

Beside her, Esa had been just as efficient. She’d picked a dark emerald dress that flowed around her ankles like water.

After a brief once-over, they both exchanged a single nod and left, letting the door close behind them with a soft click.

The walk to the ballroom felt endless in unfamiliar heels and heavy fabric.

Security thickened with every corridor closer to the ballroom. Palace guards now stood at major intersections, and attendants checked invitations at two approaches feeding into the celebration. Imani and Esa avoided the first by taking a narrower gallery used by noble households moving between private rooms and the ballroom floor.

At the second, there was nowhere to turn without looking suspicious.

A guard stepped forward. “Names?”

Imani ignored him and sailed by, head held high.

His tone hardened. “My lady.”

She stopped several feet away and turned just enough for the crown to catch the chandelier light.

The guard’s expression emptied as recognition took hold. His hand moved toward his wand, and Esa sucked in a soft gasp beside her.

“I wouldn’t,” Imani murmured.

Wide-eyed, the guard looked past them toward the crowded ballroom entrance, apparently calculating how quickly any confrontation here would become public.

Bewildered, he stepped aside.

Imani continued forward before he could reconsider. As they moved, she noted the lack of guests milling around, and those that did paid them no mind, lost in their own business or boisterous conversations. The Yule Ball had to be underway then.

When they reached the towering double doors, Imani stopped. The Yule Ball spilled its music and laughter through the crack in the wood, a wash of careless, distant joy.

Her stomach twisted as a spike of adrenaline threatened to double her over. She forced a measured breath, locking the fear down. Timing was everything. Imani wanted Tanyl relaxed before she pulled everything out from under him.

They paused in the widened alcove just outside, sticking to the shadows while the night built to its crescendo. Imani stood still as stone, tracking the party’s rhythm rather than rushing it. She let the room fill, let the noise swell into a deafening tide of celebration, waiting until every guest was seated or dancing.

Then she stepped forward alone to inform the herald whom to announce. Esa hung back, holding her position in the periphery—present, lethal, but ceding the center stage.