Page 33 of The Nymph King

Imani rubbed both palms over her face, smearing blood over her skin. Weeks ago, shadowing herself across that distance would have seemed impossible. Instead, all she could think about was how natural it had been to arrive beside him.

Her stomach turned, knowing she’d memorized the cadence of his breathing when he was irritated. She knew how his voice dropped when he wanted something. The dangerous pull of his mismatched eyes still tugged at her.

Pushing abruptly to her feet, she paced through the glass, ignoring the crunch beneath her slippers.

“What did you expect?” she whispered to herself. That he had changed?

Her eyes slammed shut at how much she despised and missed him in equal measure. Hatred had not erased the desire, or any of their memories together.

She walked to the basin in the corner of the room and lowered her head.

I will not go back, she vowed. For several breaths, she stayed there, forcing the tremor from her arms and the heat from her face.

Panting, she barely heard the soft rapping at her door.

It must be Esa, she thought. Not caring about her appearance in front of the pixie, Imani smeared blood on the door handle as she pulled it open.

Ellisar stood on the other side.

He raised his eyebrows in question.

Imani held her hands up. “It’s not what it looks like… I-I did this to myself,” she stammered.

“Well, let me in so you can explain, because you look ghastly.” The High Sentinel did not mince words. She liked that about him. She didn't guess at hidden meanings or toy with her.

Embarrassed by the examination, Imani’s neck flushed. But as she opened the door wider, she gestured for him to come in. She turned her back and headed to the basin for water to wash her hands and face. He followed and took a long look at the glass on the floor. “And are you going to explain why you destroyed my mirror?”

“I didn’t like what I saw,” Imani replied. “I’m sorry for the mess, though.” Blood spread like ribbons across the water as she washed it from her skin.

“I see.” His eyes bored into her back. An emotion flickered in Ellisar’s eyes once, and his nostrils flared, subtle but unmistakable as he caught her scent. A muscle feathered along his jaw.

“I can smell him on you. The Niflheim king,” Ellisar said quietly, the words precise and unflinching. “But how is it that it’s nowhere else in the room? Explain.”

Nausea churned in her gut.

Telling him she could shadow-travel would have helped her argument. Telling him she had intended to cross the width of this room and instead landed beside Kiran would not.

She still did not understand why the shadows had chosen him over the destination she had given them. The heartmate bond was the obvious answer, which somehow made admitting it more humiliating. Ellisar did not need to know that her supposedly impressive new ability could seize on some buried desire, carry her across kingdoms, and deposit her beside the one person she had sworn not to return to. Especially when she had been planning to use that same ability as evidence of how powerful and capable she was.

“No.”

“I decide what happens within my borders.”

“Good thing this wasn’t inside your borders, then.”

Yes, withholding the only successful long-distance shadow-travel she had ever performed while trying to prove the extent of her magic was strategically ridiculous.

But pride won anyway.

Imani dried her hands on the folds of her dress, then lifted it and dabbed her cheek. “How can I help you, High Sentinel?”

His eyes met hers, cold and piercing. “You can call me Ellisar, Your Majesty,” he said, the gentleness unexpected beneath the low rasp of his voice.

“Then you can call me Imani. Does this mean you believe me?”

“I believed you were probably telling the truth before you ever sat in front of my council,” he said without pretense. “That is not the same as proof.”

Imani folded her arms across her chest.