Page 84 of The Nymph King

Imani pursed her lips, waiting for him to continue.

“A home that stops being a seat of government when I close the door,” he added.

The admission was so honest that she almost thought she had misunderstood him.

She opened her mouth to reply, but Ellisar continued, undeterred. “I would like to eat a meal someday without someone putting a map beside my plate. I would like rooms where people come because they want my company, not because they need my approval. I would like someone who argues with me because she thinks I am being an ass, not because three border agreements depend on which of us wins.”

Her nose scrunched. “That last one sounds remarkably specific.”

“It does.” The same glint shone in his bright blue eyes, so earnest it made Imani shift in her seat.

“I want a family,” he said simply. “A real one. A household that has nothing to do with alliances or succession once the doors are closed.”

Ellisar spoke as if wanting such a thing required no defense.

“I had stopped believing that was something I would ever have,” he added. His fingers briefly brushed the sleeve covering the faded heartmate brand at his wrist. “I no longer intend to make that assumption.”

Imani remembered the pale mark beneath the fabric. She died.

An ache built in her chest, and she rubbed it without thinking. “And you think all of this gets you there?” she asked, motioning subtly toward the court.

“No.” Ellisar sighed, glancing toward the tall windows and the darkness beyond Stralas. “This is what stands in the way of it.”

“What does?” The question tumbled out before she could stop it.

“The Fabric is failing,” he continued. “Our borders are unstable. Kiran is preparing for war. Lochheim is pushing into territory it should not be able to reach. I can defend a city. I can command an army. None of that matters if the world beneath those things stops holding.” His jaw flexed. “I do not want children born into a realm where the ground can split beneath their feet because we were too occupied fighting over crowns to repair what was breaking.”

She bit her lip at his bluntness.

Children.

Not heirs.

Not a legacy.

Children.

Imani looked down at their hands resting only inches apart between the two chairs.

Until now, she’d thought Ellisar’s interest in their mating was what every powerful man wanted. Leverage, permanence, and consolidation. Even when his actions contradicted that explanation, it was easier to believe he wanted what she represented than to consider that he might want something from her that couldn’t be measured in territory.

“You’ve thought about this,” she whispered.

“For years.”

“And you never wanted more?”

“More what?”

“Power.”

Ellisar tsked. “Power is work.”

A startled laugh escaped her before she could stop it. “You make ruling sound like bookkeeping.”

“You’ll soon learn that much of it is bookkeeping.”

“You’re ruining monarchy for me.”