Page 62 of The Nymph King

Imani had what she needed to take the throne. Now, she would pay the price.

CHAPTER 18

The weight of Ellisar’s agreement stayed with Imani. She’d turned it over in her mind relentlessly, but with only three weeks until the heist, they couldn’t afford to waste another hour.

Two days after the meeting, Imani and Esa rode out of Vathis alone in the pitch-black hours before dawn. Ellisar remained behind to govern the city, coordinate the recovering forces, and prepare the army that would meet them for the strike in three weeks. For now, the journey into Sprite territory belonged only to Imani and her First Witch.

The heavy gates parted at their approach without a sound, an intentional lack of spectacle meant to avoid drawing the attention of Tanyl’s or Kiran’s spies.

Even riding hard, Esa expected the journey to Galwell to take three days. They would spend most of the first day riding north through the upper reaches of the Draswood before crossing into the Moorlands, then continue north-northwest across increasingly rough country. With only three weeks before Ellisar intended to move against Tanyl, even a short delay mattered.

The city’s rigid cobblestones soon yielded to untamed earth. The clean, paved road dissolved into an uneven trail that bowed to natural obstacles rather than cutting through them, demanding their constant attention.

Esa took the lead once the roads beyond Vathis began thinning toward the northern Sprite territory. She didn’t pause to check her bearings, navigating the shifting landscape as if the earth itself whispered directions. By afternoon, the last of the Draswood had disappeared into the horizon. The ancient trunks thinned into younger forest as the road carried them into Sprite territory, toward Galwell, leaving the sentient woods close enough to darken the western horizon but no longer surrounding them.

“Gorrum doesn’t operate like Ellisar… or Kiran,” Esa called back over her shoulder, not bothering to slow her mount. “He doesn’t build power through manipulative schemes or sheer force. He holds it through territory, through influence, through loyal alliances that go back a century.” She shot Imani a warning glance. “You don’t negotiate with him the same way. If you try to control the exchange, you’ve already lost.”

Imani absorbed the warning. Ellisar was organized; she could assess and handle him. Kiran’s madness was volatile, yet predictable now that she understood it. But Gorrum would be another beast entirely—unmapped and untamed. The High Sentinel of the Sprites wasn’t just another ally. He was the fulcrum on which Imani’s entire survival rested.

As afternoon bled into early evening, the land changed around them. They had left the Draswood and entered the first reaches of the Moorlands, where the ancient forest loosened its hold on the earth. Trees still gathered in irregular stands along the road and across the lower slopes, but wide stretches of exposed heath opened between them. Coarse grass bent beneath the wind, broken by dark patches of scrub and low purple-brown brush. The ground rose and fell in long, uneven swells, with shallow hollows collecting black water that reflected the paling sky.

The air blew differently here too. Wind moved freely across the open ground, carrying the wet smell of peat, crushed grass, and distant woodsmoke. Beyond the hills, water rushed over stone with a faint, persistent hiss. The temperature had dropped as the sun sank, and dampness clung to Imani’s face and gathered along the loose strands of her hair.

Their trail took them through one of the Moorlands’ more heavily wooded stretches. Dense undergrowth crowded both shoulders, tangled with ferns, thorny scrub, and knee-high grasses that brushed the horses’ legs. Young trees stood only a few feet beyond it, their trunks close enough together to hide a person while leaving plenty of room to move between them. Beyond those trees, Imani caught intermittent glimpses of the broader moor rising in dark, treeless humps beneath the evening sky as they picked their way downward.

The openness of the Moorlands should have made the country easier to read. Here, however, the road had dropped into a fold where the trees, slopes, and thick brush closed around them.

It was Esa’s home territory, but Imani disliked it immediately.

They pushed their horses hard, eating up the miles at a punishing pace until the dense canopy forced them into a wary canter. Imani lifted her chin, nostrils flaring. The air smelled of damp earth, smoke, and something metallic. Despite the foreboding scent, Esa kept her stride. Imani followed without hesitation, trusting that whatever challenge the terrain offered, they would meet it in motion.

Ambient rustles of wildlife vanished, an unnatural silence slowly swallowing the air around them.

Esa eased her horse’s pace, a subtle adjustment rather than a full halt. “We’re not alone,” she murmured out of the corner of her mouth.

Imani stiffened in the saddle and pushed her magic outward, trying to read the surrounding brush. Her signature spread well beyond her body, searching between the trees.

If another powerful witch was hiding nearby, she had just made herself much easier to find, but they had no choice.

A brief scrape broke the quiet, like heavy boots grinding against gravel. The sound came from somewhere ahead and to Imani’s right, in a low ridge crowded with ferns. Another scrape answered from the opposite side of the trail.

Their horses grew uneasy, whinnying and grunting.

The road had narrowed considerably over the last mile. Dense undergrowth crowded both shoulders, and young trees stood only a few feet beyond it, their trunks close enough together to hide a person while leaving room to move between them. Behind Imani and Esa, the trail curved west and disappeared around a rise. Ahead, it descended between two wooded slopes before bending east again.

They were riding through a funnel.

Imani and Esa exchanged a look.

The strike came without a battle cry.

A soldier burst from the brush on Imani’s right and swung for her ribs, aiming to knock her from the saddle rather than drive the blade through her. Imani threw herself down the opposite side of the horse. Her boots struck the trail as the weapon passed over her back, and the startled animal lurched toward the western shoulder.

Esa dismounted almost simultaneously, landing several feet ahead of her. She slapped her horse away from the fighting before backing toward Imani.

More figures emerged from the tree line.

Three came down the slope to their left, cutting off the northern road. Two more spread across the trail behind them while the first attacker recovered on Imani’s right. The remaining soldiers held closer to the trees, creating a loose outer ring around the road.