Page 112 of The Nymph King

“I heard you,” Imani interrupted. “And you’re right about the risk. But if the bond can lead us to Saevel, then the same thing that makes her dangerous to the plan may be what keeps us from wasting hours searching the wrong part of the palace.”

Meira managed a delicate swallow as the argument she had been building dropped away as quickly as it had formed. She sighed in relief.

Imani paused briefly, then turned to face her sister. “But listen carefully,” she said, her voice losing its warmth. “This isn’t about forgiveness or shielding you.” She moved close enough to make her intentions clear, but not so close as to invade her space. “If things go wrong, I won’t hesitate for you. I won’t alter my course for you. I won’t choose you.”

Her words sounded soft, making them harder to dismiss.

Meira didn’t look away this time. “I understand,” she said, the answer immediate. Her hands loosened at her sides, not relaxed, but resolute. “I’m still coming.”

Imani observed her a moment longer than needed, recognizing that Meira had thrown all caution out the window. A begrudging respect bubbled up in her chest, and she rubbed the feeling away with her fingers.

“Fine,” Esa said after a moment. She pushed off the door, her posture straightening as she forced herself back into alignment.

“We move quickly,” Imani said, turning her back to the group. “We don’t deviate, and we don’t linger anywhere longer than we have to.” Her gaze moved between them, holding each one. “We find Saevel, and we leave before anyone has a reason to question where we’ve been. And once we leave this room, we stay together.”

Finding him was only the first step.

If Saevel was alive, then Kiran might not be Niflheim’s only legitimate claimant. Imani understood that possibility better than anyone now. She and Meira both carried a Crown of Life, both possessed a connection to Essenheim’s monarchy, and the existence of a second contender had already complicated everything Imani thought she knew about her own rule. If Niflheim had the same fracture buried beneath Kiran’s Throne, Saevel could become the weapon that shattered Kiran’s claim.

“If he has a real claim,” Imani continued, looking between them, “we bring him upstairs.”

Esa’s brow furrowed. “Into the parley?”

“Yes, into the throne room,” Imani said. “In front of everyone Kiran is trying to convince.”

Lore rubbed his chin. “You want them to see whether the throne recognizes Saevel.”

“Exactly.” Imani planted both hands on the table. “Kiran is building his power on the belief that Niflheim belongs to him. If Saevel can challenge that publicly, then Kiran loses more than a brother he failed to kill. He loses what he holds most dear—his power.”

Meira’s mouth fell open a little, but Imani kept going.

“I think Kiran wants Essenheim. I think he wants my magic tied to his and every kingdom around us forced beneath the same rule. I’m not waiting for him to finish building enough power to come for mine. If Saevel can tear Niflheim out from under him first, then that is what we use him to do.”

“And if Saevel has no claim?” Esa asked.

“Then we learn that before we stake an army on him,” Imani said. “But if he does, Kiran has a problem he cannot solve by threatening me.”

“There’s no time to waste then,” Lore stated, already moving to the door. “I’ll take care of the guards outside.”

The rest of the group exchanged determined looks, then they broke apart only within the suite to prepare. Esa checked the door and listened for movement in the corridor before letting Lore exit while Imani emptied unnecessary equipment from her pockets and reviewed the route they had taken upstairs. Meira changed into darker clothing and secured her wand at her hip.

They would find Saevel, and then she would crack open this entire palace with her vengeance.

CHAPTER 34

Once Lore dispatched the guards, they left their chambers in tense silence, slipping into the corridor at staggered intervals, each movement timed to avoid notice. Dark fabric absorbed what little light the palace offered: Imani in a fitted black coat that allowed lethal fluidity, Esa in shadowed robes stripped of heavy ornaments, Lore in close-cut leathers that wouldn’t catch or scrape, and Meira in darker silks hastily chosen for silence over courtly grace. Without a word, they moved as a unit, spacing themselves just close enough to maintain visual contact as they descended into the unseen belly of the palace.

Imani took the lead, adjusting their path the moment they hit the main hallway, cutting left and guiding them into quieter passageways. She anticipated turns before the intersections came into view and kept a disciplined pace, a habit formed by time spent surviving within these walls. Without pausing, she bypassed wide-open spaces, skirted lit corridors, and rerouted them when her shadows sensed guards present.

She sliced her hand through the air. Stop.

The heavy thud of approaching boots echoed down the corridor. The patrol rounded the corner too soon, their pace brisk, leaving no room for a detour. Imani reacted instantly, stepping off the main path and flattening herself into a shallow stone alcove. The others followed in quick succession, bodies angled tight against the freezing stone. They held their breath as the guards advanced, their low, indistinct voices growing louder.

One of the guards slowed down.

A pause.

Metal scraped against stone as the guard dragged his sword across the floor, studying the dimly lit corridor. Imani kept her gaze dead ahead, unmoving, her focus locked on a narrow sliver of space as the seconds stretched into an eternity.