Page 87 of The Nymph King

“How certain are you about this Source even existing?” Ellisar asked.

“I’m not,” Esa admitted. “That’s the problem. If we want answers about the Source, we’ll eventually have to go below. To the Under. My brother had been studying this theory before he died.”

Ellisar gave her a skeptical look. “You intend to speak to a dead man?”

“Yes. I intend to find out what he knew before we gamble every realm on a guess. But not yet. I know we have immediate problems in the living world first.”

Imani studied her closest allies. “This stays here. The council gets what it needs to defend Essenheim, but nothing more. And we do not chase answers in the Under until we have dealt with the threat in front of us.”

Esa gave her a satisfied nod, and Imani reached for the brass bell on the table and rang it. “Bring them back.”

The advisors had barely reclaimed their seats when a sharp knock shattered the returning murmurs. The heavy doors swung open, revealing a breathless page.

“Your Majesty,” the messenger gasped, bowing low. “King Kiran of Niflheim has issued a formal summons. He calls for a parley among the ruling powers of Niflheim and Essenheim to be held in his court. He presents it as a summit to address the threat of war and the increasing slips between realms.”

The room erupted.

“A parley in his court?” an advisor spat. “That’s not diplomacy. That’s a hostage situation.”

“It’s bait,” another argued. “He gathers us on his terms. Nothing is safe about that.”

“Yes, it’s a trap,” Imani agreed, her voice slicing over the fray. She leaned forward, pinning the room with her stare. “He controls the ground and the terms, gathering every power he needs under the guise of stability. But I know Kiran, and we need to attend this meeting. ”

When a few faces registered doubt, she gave the room a pointed look. “As his heartmate, he will use this to draw me back under his control, and knowing that means we have the upper hand.”

An older councilman gave a humorless scoff. “That hardly sounds like a strategic advantage for us.”

Still tapping her fingers, Imani narrowed her eyes at him. He had served under Tanyl long enough that deep lines of age framed his mouth, though apparently without imparting the wisdom to keep it closed.

He gestured toward her. “You admit the Niflheim king can influence you through this bond. You admit he desires you near him. Yet we are meant to trust your judgment about walking willingly into his court?”

Imani sat straighter. “You are meant to trust that I understand him better than anyone sitting at this table.”

“That is precisely the problem.” The councilman leaned back, his insult thinly veiled as concern. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but you reclaimed the throne yesterday. You have spent more time as Kiran’s heartmate than as Essenheim’s queen. If your connection to him is as volatile as you claim, perhaps decisions concerning Niflheim should be made by those less… personally compromised.”

The screech of Ellisar’s chair cut across the stone chamber as he rose beside Imani.

The room went deathly still.

His broad shoulders squared as he turned toward the councilman, his face hard and rigid. For the first time since Imani had known him, there was absolutely nothing bored in his expression. Whatever iron restraint that usually contained Ellisar’s authority had vanished.

“Choose your next words very carefully,” Ellisar warned, his voice dangerously low.

The councilman blinked, losing some of his bluster. “High Sentinel, I meant no⁠—”

“I know exactly what you meant.” Ellisar leveled a fierce glare at him, sending a shiver down Imani’s spine. “You questioned your queen’s judgment because another man desires her. You took the fact that she survived Kiran, understands him, and possesses intelligence none of us do, and twisted it into evidence that she is unfit to lead.”

“I questioned a vulnerability.”

“No.” Ellisar’s palm struck the table.

The crack echoed like a whip. Several advisors flinched backward. Even Esa stared at him.

The sudden, vast pressure of his magic rolled across the room, disciplined, yet barely restrained. The man who could weather insults and political maneuvering without a twitch of his jaw had finally been pushed to the edge. And it was entirely on her behalf.

“You questioned her competence,” Ellisar said, his blue eyes chips of ice. “And you dressed the insult in political language to make it palatable. She took a throne from a man with every institutional advantage. She closed a Fabric rupture your own people could not contain. She walked into this chamber and gave you a strategy before most of you had finished pulling out your chairs.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed. “If you disagree with her strategy, identify the flaw. If you possess better intelligence, present it. But you will not suggest she is too weak-minded to rule simply because her heartmate wishes to possess her.”