Page 107 of The Nymph King

“Watch,” she breathed.

She fed the edge of the paper into the fire. As the ink darkened and lifted, her wand guided the flame. When she spoke the incantation, her Divination magic answered immediately. The fire drew inward, its light sharpening from wild heat into a solid structure.

A figure emerged in the embers. Saevel stood fully formed, not a blur or a suggestion. He was massive, broad-shouldered, carrying a grounded presence that refused to be moved. Dark hair framed the sharp, clean lines of his jaw. His mouth was full, caught in a bright, unguarded smile, disarming in its warmth. And his eyes—vivid green even through the firelight—held a steadiness that made the vision feel terrifyingly real.

Meira’s breath hitched. Her disbelief shattered as she lifted a trembling hand toward the flames. “He’s—” Her voice faltered, her eyes shining as reality crashed over her. “He’s real.”

Her sister swayed, her hands lifting as if she needed to anchor herself. “Saevel,” she breathed, the name tumbling out in abject wonder. A wet, unguarded laugh escaped her, and she turned to Imani, tears spilling over her lashes. “It really is him, isn’t it?” She reached for Imani’s hand without thinking.

Imani stepped back from the hearth.

Her sister didn’t seem to notice, entirely consumed by a frantic, breathless joy. “I need to go to him. Now. Where is he? How far?” Her words tumbled over one another. “If he’s out there, I’m not staying here. I’m not waiting.”

“This isn’t just about you,” Imani cut in. “There is an old theory that the monarchs of each realm are heartmated. A bond would not prove Saevel is king by itself, but if you find him and the magic recognizes you as his heartmate, it gives us another reason to question Kiran’s claim.”

Meira gaped at her.

“That is why you’re coming,” Imani continued. “You help us confirm whether the bond is real. If it is, we bring him out of hiding and find out whether the Throne of Destruction recognizes him too.”

“You want to put him against Kiran.”

“Yes,” she stated. “Kiran has Niflheim, and I believe he intends to use it to come for Essenheim next. He wants my kingdom, my crown, and me beside him while he takes whatever else he decides belongs to him.” Imani stepped closer. “Saevel gives me another possibility. If we free him after Kiran imprisoned him, he has a reason to work with Essenheim instead of invading it. And if he has a legitimate claim to Niflheim, then Kiran loses the kingdom he intends to turn against mine.”

Her eyes dropped briefly to the fading image in the fire.

“Saevel might not be a better man than his brother. But I only need him to have a claim Kiran cannot ignore and a reason to remember who gave him his freedom.”

Meira pulled her focus from the fading embers. Tears tracked through the dust on her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered, her defensiveness entirely stripped away. “For telling me. For not hiding this.” Her voice faltered, but she didn’t look away. “And I’m sorry. For what I did to you. I’ve had time to think about it, and I know what it was.” A bitter exhale shuddered past her lips. “It was cowardice.”

Imani let Meira’s admission lie there in the silence, letting it bleed out before she finally spoke.

“An apology,” Imani said, her voice hollow, “is not the same thing as trust.”

Meira flinched. “I don’t expect things to go back to what they were. But if there’s anything left to rebuild, I’d like the chance to try.”

“No. You don’t get to decide that you’ve suffered enough to earn it back.” Imani’s gaze was absolute. “You don’t get to stand here, say the right words, and expect what was between us to return. It won’t. That version of us is gone. You killed it when you chose yourself over me.” She studied Meira the way one might measure an insect before crushing it. “Crying prettily in a room rebuilds nothing. It just proves you understand what you lost.”

Meira dipped her chin in acknowledgment.

Imani tilted her head. “If Saevel is alive, you may be the only one who can lead us directly to him and confirm the bond when we find him. After that, I’ll find out whether Niflheim has been following the wrong king.”

“He’s alive. I would know,” she screamed. Tears streamed freely down Meira’s face.

Imani tapped her foot, impassive to her sister’s emotional display.

Knowledge of the second Crown of Life was still contained. If Tanyl had known, he was dead. Esa knew now, as did Ellisar. Beyond them, Imani had kept the truth as restricted as possible. Lore had not yet been told, nor had the courts or the rulers gathering in Niflheim.

That secrecy was the only reason Meira could still walk into Kiran’s palace without immediately becoming a political crisis.

“Now listen carefully,” Imani said. “Hide your Crown of Life like you’ve been doing with an illusion. Don’t display it, and don’t give anyone a reason to remember you have it. Esa and Ellisar know. That is already more people than I would prefer. No one else learns unless I decide the political cost is worth it.” Her glare left no room for misinterpretation. “The moment it becomes visible, it becomes a claim, and I will treat it as one. If you so much as consider stepping toward the Essenheim throne, I won’t negotiate. I won’t warn you again. I will end you before you take a single step.”

Meira winced at the threat. Then, her shoulders dropped in absolute surrender. But her mind immediately clawed back to the one thing she couldn’t let go of. “I’ll go,” she said, her composure fracturing into raw desperation once more. “Please—I just need to see him. I need to find him.”

Imani felt a surge of suppressed grief burning fiercely within her chest. She struggled to keep her expression blank, despite her urge to scream. She then took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to channel the intense heat back into the darkness inside her.

“Being heartmated won’t solve your problems,” Imani said flatly. “It will only give you something new to lose.”

The words were meant as a warning, offering no comfort. Before they could sink in, Imani turned and left the room. The door shut quietly, with a finality that felt devastating, leaving Meira alone in the middle of the room, crying for a future she had just found and might not have, and for the sister she had already lost.