Page 77 of The Nymph King

She ignored him and glared up at Tanyl. Bright light coated the Drasil and crawled along his forearm, brighter with every step. Her shadows gathered weakly at her feet, only to shrink whenever his magic reached them.

Nausea churned in her gut as it dawned on her that she could lose. Tanyl had raw, rare magical talent, becoming a Master Witch at sixteen. One of the youngest ever. He had trained his whole life to be monarch, surrounded by the best of the best.

Imani came into her magic at twenty-six and had barely gone to school.

His grip tightened around the red-grained wand shaft, and the unreadable carvings seemed to deepen as the magic rippling around the wand intensified.

“I didn’t want it to come to this. We were friends,” he said with a frown.

Blood filled Imani’s mouth where she had bitten her tongue. She spat it onto the floor. “You should have learned how to fight without borrowing power from your relatives.”

His frown deepened, and he raised the Drasil. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

But she did, because he was right. They had been friends, and memories surfaced with brutal clarity. Every defensive outburst, every need to be admired, every performance of certainty. The insecurity beneath it, that feeling of inadequacy that his mother had planted and fed for years.

Not clever enough.

Not good enough.

Not worthy enough.

Never powerful enough.

Imani dragged herself to her feet just as Tanyl attacked. She dodged instead of blocking, throwing herself sideways as his Upper magic ripped through the column behind her. Stone exploded across the ballroom.

“You know what I find interesting?” she asked as another strike forced her behind a heavy table.

“I don’t care.”

“Yes, you do.”

His light magic obliterated the table, and Imani rolled clear as broken wood crashed around her. “Everything you’ve done,” she continued, breathing hard, “and somehow you still need everyone to tell you that you matter.”

“Shut up, Imani. It’s over.”

The response came too quickly.

She smiled. Meeting force with force only fed him opportunities to burn through her magic. But she didn’t need brute force magic to beat Tanyl.

“Did your mother know?” Imani needled.

Tanyl froze. “Know what?”

“That your father was Upper.”

“Of course she knew.”

“Did she tell you that made you special?”

His jaw clenched. Imani stepped forward despite the pain radiating down her shoulder. “Or did she tell you it still wasn’t enough?”

“Stop talking.”

The Upper magic surged, and Imani ducked to the side before the spell formed completely. A blast tore past her ribs and scorched the floor.

“She did, didn’t she? She spent your entire life telling you what you lacked.”

“Shut your mouth.”