Page 78 of The Nymph King

“Not powerful enough,” Imani taunted.

Light burst outward, and she ducked again just in time. “Not clever enough,” she cooed.

Another strike hit the table, but this time she sent shadows wide instead of directly at him, spreading them around the room so his attention couldn’t follow every strand at once. “Not worthy enough.”

“Enough!”

A scream tore out of him as more Upper magic erupted from his wand. The magic flared around his body, brilliant enough to bleach the ballroom of color, but the edges broke apart, revealing tiny weaknesses.

And her shadows found the cracks. Thin strands of darkness slipped through the unstable points and buried themselves inside the white-gold magic before Tanyl understood.

“What—”

Imani smiled. “Your mother was right about one thing.”

His breathing turned ragged, and she pushed the shadows deeper.

“You were never good enough to be king.”

Tanyl roared, then light exploded in the ballroom. Still, her darkness spread through the fractures.

Tanyl tried to force more power through the Drasil, and the competing magics reacted violently. White-gold magic surged outward while black shadow crawled inward, each fighting for space along his arm. His hand shook, the tremor traveling into his forearm. Sweat ran down his face, and his next breath hitched. He had spent too much power too quickly.

Imani advanced, and her shadows forced him back. He stumbled. “You wanted everyone to believe you were chosen.”

Her shadows penetrated farther. “They chose your blood.”

She took another step closer and raised her wand. “Not you.”

Tanyl’s face contorted. His Drasil jerked violently in his grip.

Imani stopped directly in front of him. “They knew you were weak… and they exploited it.”

Tanyl dragged in a broken breath and swung at her anyway. Exhaustion had shortened the movement, rage pulling the Drasil ahead of the rest of his body.

And it was the opening. Imani stepped inside his attack. Her injured shoulder screamed as she caught his wrist, but she refused to release him. Tanyl tried to pull free, but she drove the Drasil upward beneath his arm.

Power detonated between them. His weakened magic tried to answer, but her shadows were already inside it, expanding. Darkness burst through the failing white-gold field and wrapped around Tanyl’s arm, chest, throat, and legs. His light flared once more, burning away several strands, but the shadows still found the gaps in his spell.

Imani twisted his wrist until his Drasil pointed uselessly toward the ceiling. “You could have been my ally,” she said through heavy breaths. “You didn’t have to make yourself my enemy.”

Genuine regret rose beneath the adrenaline. She remembered the version of Tanyl who had once made her laugh, who had known exactly how to tease her without provoking a real fight, who had once seemed like someone she might trust. For one ugly heartbeat, she wanted that man back. Then she looked at what he had chosen to become.

“You don’t understand what they’ll do to you,” he said, voice frantic.

Imani paused with her wand raised. “The Upper?”

His lips parted, but he didn’t reply.

“Why did they give you the Drasil?” she demanded.

Tanyl struggled against her darkness. “They didn’t give me anything.”

His magic sputtered around his fingers.

“They came to you because of your father.”

Silence.