Page 50 of The Nymph King

Some conversations were plainly political. Others were nothing more than friends laughing too loudly over wine, soldiers finding people they had feared they might never see again, and families crowding together after the battle. Imani found herself watching those moments longer than she intended.

She also watched who gravitated toward whom, who was welcomed without question, and who hovered at the edges waiting for an invitation.

Every interaction carried a double meaning, and she could already see the invisible lines pulling them all together.

And all those lines converged on Ellisar. He stood near her on the dais as if the room’s architecture had been designed to showcase his broad frame. Every few moments, her eyes found him as he charmed and rubbed elbows with the elven elite. The mask never slipped either.

Lantern light caught the silver of his short hair, while his piercing blue eyes moved constantly, absorbing everything and lingering on nothing. The sharp line of his jaw, darkened by beard shadow, underscored the severity of his expression.

Earlier that evening, word had reached her that the Lochheim families had been given temporary quarters near the southern barracks. The surrendered soldiers remained under guard.

Ellisar had carried out her order exactly as she had given it. Satisfaction bloomed in her gut, but she ignored it as the party continued.

The entire time, he stayed close enough that she could sense his grounded presence at the edge of her awareness. Though he never acknowledged her, she felt the solidity of his stance and the space he effortlessly filled. While she didn’t appreciate being managed, her curiosity grew alongside the tension.

Interestingly, he made no attempt to introduce her to anyone. He could have walked her through the ballroom, naming generals, nobles, and advisors until she knew every useful person in Vathis, yet doing so would have made her look like someone entering his world under his supervision.

Is the distance between us my choice, she wondered, or is it his?

It didn’t take long for the room’s pressure to close in. One by one, attendees drifted closer, including nobles with practiced ease and advisors angling for a moment of access, eager to pull her into their orbit.

Before any could stake a claim, Ellisar adjusted.

A subtle repositioning of his shoulders, a word spoken just loudly enough to redirect a general’s attention. He never raised his voice or made a spectacle, yet the effect was absolute. Paths closed. Conversations diverted.

He was maneuvering her without ever declaring it. She recognized the pattern from the battlefield and the climb, a careful filtering of who was allowed near her.

Her value had changed radically in just a day. She’d gone from prisoner to a queen others competed for. What looked like protection from one angle felt dangerously close to possession from another.

A nobleman approached with the easy confidence of one accustomed to getting his way. He offered a practiced bow and extended a hand. “May I⁠—”

Ellisar stepped in before the question could land.

“She’s spoken for,” he said, his low voice carrying enough finality to end the exchange. His tone held no apology, and he didn’t glance to confirm Imani’s agreement. Only the certainty of a decision already made.

The nobleman withdrew, turning and scurrying back into the crowd.

Imani reeled on Ellisar. “Do not do that again.”

His head cocked. “Do what?”

“Decide who is allowed to approach me.” She kept her voice low enough that the confrontation remained theirs despite the curious faces surrounding them. “You’ve been doing it all evening. Redirecting people. Closing off conversations. Deciding who gets close enough to speak to me.” Her attention flicked toward the nobleman before returning to Ellisar. “And now apparently answering invitations on my behalf.”

Ellisar clenched his jaw.

His lack of response made her shift her feet. Kiran would have found ten different ways to explain why his control was really for her benefit.

Dragging a hand through his shock of silver hair, Ellisar sighed. “You’re right.”

Her mouth fell open.

“I overstepped,” he added. “I was protecting you when you did not ask me to.”

“You were,” she said cautiously.

A nobleman approached Imani, his broad Norn shoulders filling out his military uniform. He bowed slightly and gave her a charming smile. “May I have this dance, Your Majesty?”

Imani considered him. “No.”