Page 75 of The Nymph King

“I am Imani Aowyn,” she said. Her voice echoed against the stone. “The rightful queen of Essenheim.” She pointed the Drasil at Tanyl. “The Crown of Life does not answer to him. It never has.”

An agonizing beat of stillness filled the ballroom.

“It answers to me.”

The silence shattered into tense energy as the crowd murmured and someone gasped. Hundreds of eyes darted from Imani to Tanyl, comparing the humming gold upon her brow to the flickering illusion on his. Shock curdled into frantic calculation as the court recalibrated its loyalties in real time.

Tanyl’s grip on the Drasil tightened as the illusion of his Crown of Life wavered almost imperceptibly. Only she was powerful enough to notice it. She expected him to rise, but instead he slouched deeper into the throne, as if taking stock of the declaration she had just inflicted at his feet.

Imani planted her feet firmly, resolute in her refusal to retreat. The decision was made, and she was prepared for the consequences.

CHAPTER 22

Tanyl’s face twisted into a snarl. “Seize her.” The command snapped, stripped of his usual composure, driven by a frantic need to reclaim control before it slipped away entirely. His knuckles paled as he gripped the Drasil even harder, as if he could anchor his crumbling authority through the wood alone.

The guards surged the instant the order left his mouth. She guessed they were all High Breeds if they were protecting the king, but none of them had wands like the one they’d encountered in the hallway.

Six from the edge of the dais moved first. The two nearest Imani drew short swords, broad enough for combat but compact enough to wield in a crowded ballroom. Behind them, another pair leveled narrow metal-tipped staffs meant to strike, hook limbs, and force a prisoner to the floor without killing her. Two more spread wider along the edge of the crowd, cutting off her retreat toward the ballroom doors.

Nobles recoiled in delayed shock, silk skirts and polished shoes scraping over the floor as they cleared a widening circle around Imani.

The first swordsman came from her right. He slashed toward her ribs with the flat of the blade angled to disable rather than gut her. Imani stepped into his reach before he could recover, caught his wrist, and twisted. His sword clattered from his hand as she broke his balance and sent him hard onto the floor.

The staff-wielding guard came from her left. Imani pivoted inside his strike, caught the shaft, and wrenched it aside hard enough to send him stumbling. But before the next guard could close, Imani raised the Drasil. A heavy wave of magic surged outward and caught the advancing guards mid-step, rooting them beneath its crushing pressure.

Her shadows finally slipped free from the leash of her willpower. They bled like black ink across the tiles, coiling around ankles and wrists until the guards lost their balance and mobility. Imani was done holding back.

She was the queen, and no one in this room possessed the power to stop her. Mercy, she was learning, worked best when it followed fear.

A bright light flashed at the edge of Tanyl’s magical signature. The sensation disappeared before she could identify it, swallowed beneath the Drasil’s much stronger presence.

She dismissed it. Despite his magical talent, Tanyl had spent his entire reign hiding behind other people’s power, like Kiran’s, and there was no reason to believe this fight would be different.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Some guests shrank back instinctively, while others leaned in, morbidly captivated. Ellisar broke away, his body angled to intervene, but then he stopped because he must have seen that she was prevailing

Imani couldn’t help but steal a glance at Kiran. For once, he looked genuinely caught off guard. He stood frozen, entirely oblivious to the struggling guards. His unblinking focus was locked on her. What was he thinking?

Then surprise transformed. A wild, maniacal grin pulled at his mouth, his single clear eye burning with a possessive, obsessive glee.

Imani knew that look. Kiran loved the unraveling, and it brought her more comfort than she cared to admit.

Later. I’ll deal with him later, she thought as she swept the Drasil in a broad arc, releasing another burst of magic that overwhelmed a secondary group of guards. Their discipline broke, the formation dissolving into hesitant chaos as the guards abandoned coordinated movement and reacted on instinct.

Imani took a step forward. Then another.

Guards retreated as the crowd instinctively parted, creating a clear path to the dais. Noise faded until the room narrowed to Imani and Tanyl.

He rose slowly, setting his drink aside with one hand while his other gripped his weapon with white knuckles. Above his head, the glamoured crown wavered, its light warping at the edges. As the only other Drasil wielder in the realm, and the true queen, it made sense that only she could see through it, but the thought didn’t make her any less furious as her magic thrummed in her blood.

Tanyl lunged without warning, raw temper shattering his careless facade. He swung his Drasil high, driving forward with brute force. Imani tried not to flinch, sliding to the left and letting his strike carve empty air. Then, she released the full depth of her shadows.

Darkness flooded the floor, shadows rising around her. The sconces flickered and died. Ignoring Tanyl’s stumbling momentum, she drove her power upward with a feral scream.

Shadows swirled around him, smashing into the illusion with a fury that reflected her own. Branches snapped, and leaves crumbled, then it warped violently before collapsing into nothing but empty air.

Victory swelled in her chest, and for one breath, Imani thought she had done it because Tanyl stood with an empty brow, no Crown of Life or divine image to save him. Indeed, no lie remained between him and the court.

But then light burst from his wand.