Page 56 of The Nymph King

Despite various forces acting from different angles, only one initially demanded her understanding. A constriction in her chest made her free hand fly to her sternum.

It stabilized as the connection formed, and a dark stone chamber encased her. Narrow iron sconces cast a soft, steady glow that lit a long, scarred table unevenly. Tall windows in the far wall showed only darkness—no stars, just the hint of a cold, dizzying height. The air was thick, heavy, and suffocating. It seemed built for private conversations that shouldn’t be overheard.

She didn’t recognize the room, but it carried the unmistakable architecture of the Niflheim palace.

Then she saw him, and her heart beat wildly.

Kiran stood half-turned, one hand braced against the table’s edge. The restless, unhinged energy she had seen the night before was still there, but he wasn’t pacing, twitching, or idly fidgeting. Instead, all she saw were the frantic glances of his eyes as he studied the window, then the papers strewn across the table.

Zadie tapped her fingers on the table, impatient.

Was this a chance meeting? Or did the witch in the library want her to see this? It took only a breath for Imani to realize she had arrived late. The conversation was already underway, the tension set. With no clear anchor, she had to piece together the fragments as they spoke.

“You’re distracted,” Niflheim’s First Witch said, putting down the paper she’d been reading.

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” Kiran replied. He didn’t look at her as he stripped off his jacket and loosened his collar. “The question is whether you are.”

A pause. Zadie’s gaze narrowed, but she didn’t rise to the bait. “You made an agreement we didn’t discuss.”

“I made a window,” he corrected.

Her brow lifted slightly. “That’s not how Tanyl sees it.”

Kiran gave a short, dismissive laugh. “I don’t particularly care how Tanyl sees it.” He turned to face her, eyes devoid of heat or temper. “He needed numbers. Support. The appearance of alignment.” A faint, humorless exhale. “So I gave him enough to move.”

“And now?”

“Now he’s moved.”

The words seemed like a vise around Zadie’s throat as she took a slow step forward, her expression tightening just enough to draw a line in the sand. “You’re assuming he doesn’t expect this.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“You’re counting on him underestimating you?”

“I’m counting on him believing what he wants to believe,” Kiran replied. “That I’m still operating on instinct. That I’ll follow through because it’s easier than breaking away.”

Zadie tilted her head, studying him. “Support for him is already unstable. If you push too soon, you’ll fracture it completely.”

“And if I wait?” Kiran countered. “While he consolidates power? Turns whatever he’s built into something harder to break?”

Imani had no idea what they were talking about specifically, but it had the trappings of war. Zadie’s lips formed a hard line.

“He’s already stretched,” Kiran went on. “Essenheim can’t hold that position indefinitely. Not with the pressure he’s applying.”

“And you think striking soon gives you an advantage.”

“I know it does.” There was no hesitation.

Zadie circled him, arms crossed. “And where does that leave you, hmm?”

Imani held perfectly still, letting the conversation flow around her. The room had the heavy texture of reality—the flickering light, the worn stone—but she had no way to know whether this was the present or the echo of a past moment. She cradled that uncertainty carefully, like delicate glass.

“Exactly where I intended to be,” Kiran said.

“Independent of any allies?”

“Uncontrolled.”