Page 80 of The Nymph King

“It’s yours,” he said quickly, lifting the wand slightly. “Take the Drasil, and the power. I’ll walk away and disappear. You’ll never have to see me again.”

Her nostrils flared, but she didn’t reply.

“You don’t need to do this,” he repeated, quieter now, the fight draining out of him as he searched her face for any sense of mercy. “You’re not like this.”

“I am,” she said.

He flinched, and tears welled in her eyes for her former friend, but she gave the command anyway. The shadows obeyed, shooting in from the edges of the room like moths drawn to a flame. They moved with a terrible patience, sealing off every exit, every possibility of escape. Their advance was silent and absolute as they formed their final, inescapable perimeter.

The pull of his soul began as a steady draw as her magic closed around him and turned inward. This feeling was deeper than flesh, and his soul unraveled under her control, slipping free as he choked and grasped at his chest. Then, his being snapped free in one powerful burst.

Calling it forward, she let his essence surround her, let the warmth run over her skin. A few tears finally ran down her cheeks, but she ignored them. Then, inhaled and took him inside her body.

What remained of Tanyl went quickly. The shadows devoured him, finishing what they had begun earlier, and the blood that reached Imani’s cheek was the last physical fact of him. No body hit the floor. The magic had left nothing so solid behind. Only the walls held any evidence, dark-streaked at the height where he had stood, and below them a thin layer of falling dust that had been, a moment ago, a man.

No one moved. The room went still, frozen in the aftermath of what they had just witnessed. It took a moment to register, and for the reality to set in.

A single clap broke the silence, loud and isolated in the vast room. Another followed, and another, hesitant at first, testing the moment. The sound grew in layers, spreading through the crowd as more hands joined in, until the applause built into a steady roar.

Imani turned to the throne where Tanyl had sat only minutes before.

She approached it slowly while the entire room watched her. It wasn’t like the Throne of Destruction in Niflheim, full of magic and power, but it held the symbol of power, and she wanted it.

Without looking back at the crowd for permission, she settled onto the chair as if she had always been returning there. It was an inevitability.

Seated on the throne, she took in the entire room.

Ellisar merely stood watching, his hands at his sides despite the surrounding applause. He watched her with a slight tilt of his head, his face a mask of calm consideration. A flicker of approval crossed his features, then vanished as his eyes narrowed slightly, reassessing the balance of power in the room now that she had laid her capabilities bare before the entire court.

His presence reminded her that the room’s applause had changed far less than it appeared to. Imani had taken Stralas herself. She had not acquired an experienced government, universal territorial loyalty, or an army that would follow her simply because she sat in Tanyl’s chair.

Ellisar had all three things she still needed, though, including soldiers who obeyed him without question, years of governing and military experience she did not possess, and enough power to stand beside her if Kiran turned his attention toward Essenheim.

And there was the bargain between them.

The High Sentinel had delivered exactly what he promised. He had brought his army, committed Vathis to her cause, helped build the operation that put her in this room, and stood ready to support whatever came after Tanyl fell. In return, Imani had promised him the Drasil and agreed to become his chosen mate.

Winning Essenheim did not erase his actions, and she had to honor her promise.

Kiran treated agreements like obstacles to bend, reinterpret, or break whenever they stopped serving him. Imani had spent too much time despising that part of him to imitate it now. She had given Ellisar her word while she needed his help. Keeping it only after the need had passed was what made the promise mean anything.

She had won without Ellisar fighting her battle, but that did not mean she could rule what came next without him. More importantly, she had no intention of taking everything he had given her and pretending her own side of the bargain no longer mattered.

Kiran’s applause cut through the rest, louder and more erratic, his hands coming together with a force that bordered on aggressive. It was a raw approval, out of place in a palace still catching its breath. His face matched it, that same unguarded, almost fevered satisfaction pulling at his mouth as if what had just happened wasn’t shocking at all, but exactly what he had wanted to see. The Niflheim king’s gaze locked on hers. His lips moved slowly, forming the words without sound—I love you—clear enough to read across the room.

Despite her best efforts to remain aloof, Imani’s mouth formed a shocked O as she stared at him, shaken beneath her calmness. Then she shook her head, forcing the surprise away while she held his stare.

She had known he would be here since his caravan passed Galwell on the road to Stralas. That knowledge had become the one part of tonight she had refused to leave to chance. Their last encounter had made Kiran’s intentions painfully clear: eventually, he would try to take her back to Niflheim whether she agreed or not.

He would likely try tonight. Kiran wasn’t known for his restraint.

Fine.

Now that Tanyl had been dealt with and Essenheim was hers, she intended to let Kiran come close enough to believe he had won. Then she would close the palace around him.

Ellisar’s soldiers were already positioned in Stralas. Esa was within reach. Imani had the Drasil, the Crown of Life, and, if the court accepted what had just happened, the authority to order the Niflheim king detained on Essenheim soil.

She had spent too long running from Kiran, and tonight, she intended to put him in chains.