Page 109 of The Nymph King

The thought burrowed into Imani. She stayed silent, eyes on the horizon, as her senses sharpened and the city faded away. Unpredictable was a woefully inadequate word for Kiran. No one knew his true intentions, and that was the real threat. His ability to act without regard for others’ understanding made the world conform to his desires.

Esa and Lore rode with the focused efficiency of soldiers aware of what they faced, even if they couldn’t foresee the outcome. When Imani looked behind her, Meira stayed outside their group. She moved slightly out of sync, and everyone watched her every move, though no one voiced it.

At twenty-five, Meira was only two years younger than Imani, but sometimes the distance between them felt much larger. Imani had spent twenty-seven years learning what her little sister looked like when frightened, angry, stubborn, or hiding something, and she recognized pieces of all four now every time she tossed a glance at her sister. The tension was palpable.

As they traveled further, the land became less governed by crowns and old laws and more defined by Kiran’s looming presence at the border.

A familiar pulse beat under her skin near her sternum, an ache she couldn’t ignore. Her face stayed emotionless, but her hand instinctively went to her chest to steady the heartbeat. She quickly lowered it again. Esa noticed the faint sign but wisely stayed silent.

The gesture left her aware of another absence.

Ellisar should have been riding beside her.

For weeks, his presence had been a constant at her side. His silver hair in her periphery, a dry comment under his breath, the steady pressure of his magic beside hers while they crossed roads and stood in crowded rooms. She had grown accustomed to turning her head and finding him there.

Now only an empty stretch of road lay beside her.

Imani tightened her grip on the reins.

He was exactly where he needed to be, holding Essenheim while she crossed into Niflheim. The logic had been sound at the war table, but it felt considerably less satisfying with an empty stretch of road beside her. She found herself wondering what he would have said about Lore’s warnings, and whether that severe mouth would have twitched when she inevitably told him everyone else was being dramatic.

I miss him.

Conflict tore through her at such a thought, making her ride harder.

The journey stretched across several days, carrying them south and east through Essenheim before the Riverlands finally opened around them. They rode from first light until dusk whenever the roads allowed it, stopping only long enough to rest the horses and sleep. By the time Kishion came into view, the constant travel had stiffened Imani’s back and left everyone more subdued than when they had departed Stralas.

The Riverlands unfolded around them in a patchwork of deep waters and dark soil. However, as they drew nearer to the Niflheim border, that familiar light started to fade into overcast skies and darkness. A subtle yet unmistakable tension settled into the terrain, as if a monstrous force on the other side was already pressing back.

Essenheim’s border patrols quickly bowed to the Crown of Life and let them pass.

But at the end of the bridge into Niflheim, a line of stern-looking guards stood, their hands resting threateningly on their weapons’ pommels. As the group’s horses clattered over the wooden planks, a dozen heads turned sharply toward them, eyes narrowing. One guard’s gaze fixed on Imani before drifting past her to the stormy horizon, as if checking whether the tempest beyond already knew she had arrived.

Imani took Kiran’s invitation and held it up without greeting, just to reveal the dark wax seal. The guards immediately shifted, stepping back quietly to clear the way, yet their silence carried no respect. They watched the riders enter Niflheim with cautious dread.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, the storm erupted with full force. A fierce wind forcefully pushed against them, hindering their every step forward. Relentless freezing rain followed, instantly penetrating thick wool and casting the scenery in harsh shades of gray. The atmospheric pressure dropped sharply, creating an unnatural heaviness. While it could have been considered an ordinary squall, Imani knew better. The wind consistently battered their cloaks with an orchestrated intensity. Beneath the cold, an unseen, icy presence seemed to observe Imani—an oppressive awareness that they were being watched.

Night collapsed on them as well. Forced to halt shortly after passing over the border, they wrestled their tents into the muddy earth as the bitter wind fought them for every inch of canvas. Cold settled deep into their bones. They kept their conversations to a bare minimum because no one would waste breath on anything that didn’t ensure their survival. Then, huddled inside the main tent, shaking off the rain, they choked down their hard rations.

Afterward, Esa circled the tent with her wand raised, laying a privacy ward into the canvas and ground until a faint pressure sealed around them. Lore checked each point where the spell joined, then added a second layer designed to warn them if anyone crossed within hearing distance. Only when Esa nodded did Imani clear the makeshift table and unroll a map of the Niflheim citadel.

The storm helped. Rain hammered the canvas hard enough to swallow ordinary conversation from outside, but Imani trusted the wards more than the weather. Nothing about Saevel, Meira’s bond, or their real purpose in Niflheim would be spoken without protection.

“Let’s review it again,” Imani said. Her voice was low, cutting cleanly through the wind’s howl outside. “We arrive under invitation. We play exactly the part he expects.”

Lore leaned over the map, water dripping from his chin, with his blue hair plastered to his face. “We attend the parley, keep our hands off our hilts, and don’t give him an excuse to throw us out before we learn anything.”

“Correct,” Imani said. “We listen more than we speak. Watch who stands with him, who cowers, and figure out what he isn’t saying.”

Esa’s eyes drifted up from the parchment, her wet wings drooping. “And Saevel?”

“We find him before Kiran suspects anything,” Imani answered. “That is the only thing that matters beyond that meeting.”

“Assuming he doesn’t already suspect,” Lore muttered.

“He doesn’t.”

A heavy silence descended, thick enough to drown out the storm. Esa tilted her head. “You’re certain.”