Page 119 of The Nymph King

A pause, then in a whisper, “I’m proud to be yours.”

His hand drifted, brushing along her jaw. “No one touches you. No one takes you from me. I’ll tear through anything that tries.”

Meira’s breath hitched, but she didn’t look away. “You don’t have to⁠—”

“I do,” Saevel cut in, not harshly, but certain as his fingers ran through her hair. “I will protect you from anything that comes for you, my heart. Anything.”

The bond between Saevel and her sister held Imani captive. Her mouth fell open a little as tears burned in her eyes. She wiped her cheeks and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, but they were all transfixed by the king and queen ahead of them.

Meira had found something rare, something real, a bond worth every risk it took to reach this place, and for a second, Imani let herself feel it. The ache grew into an unbearable pain, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

She missed Kiran. She missed her evil, horrible heartmate—missed him with a deep, undeniable pull, remembering the way he looked at her when he stopped holding himself back, the way his love showed when he let it surface. The emotion did not excuse his behavior. It remained there, weighty and unsettled, the attraction to him and the resentment intertwined, neither giving in to the other.

Imani would see her heartmate soon. And she would make that beautiful, handsome face of his pay.

“We don’t have time for this,” Imani said, forcing the blunt words out as she stepped forward and cut the moment short.

Saevel’s attention snapped to Imani at once, his body still angled toward Meira but his focus assessing, his breath still uneven as he pulled himself back just enough to listen, one hand moving over Meira’s back in a slow, grounding pass as if he could steady both of them at once. Meira leaned into Saevel, and he kissed her temple. “Stay close to me,” he murmured.

“Kiran has called a parley,” Imani ground out. “Every faction is above us right now—Essenheim, Niflheim, all of them. He’s holding you here while he plays king in front of them.”

Saevel froze. “Above us?”

Meira stayed near, embracing him tightly. She breathed against his neck, her nose brushing his skin in a comforting gesture. He visibly shivered despite his restraints.

“Yes, we’re in Zorah right now,” Imani continued. “And if we’re not back before it begins, Kiran will know something’s wrong. We had less than an hour when we came down here.” She glanced toward the exit. “That gives us roughly twenty minutes to break these chains, get back through the vaults, and put you in that Throne room before the parley starts.”

As the truth sank in, his expression transformed from disbelief to understanding. His hand didn’t leave Meira, fingers moving against her back in a slow rhythm, as if he could anchor himself through her, as if he could hold on to her even as everything else shifted.

A groan built in his throat, teeth gritted as he pulled against the chains. The metal strained as his muscles surged against it, magic reacting in errant bursts around him as his anger rose with it. Meira moved with him instantly, her body instinctively responding, staying near and not letting go. “Let it out,” she whispered, her hand pressing firmer on his jaw. “I’m right here. I feel it with you.”

“He put me here,” Saevel nearly screamed. His head turned slightly as he took in the throne beneath him. “On this throne.”

Imani looked at the chains again, then to the marks they had left across his body. “How long have you been down here?”

Saevel rattled the chains as he repositioned himself on the throne. “Since Kiran attacked the palace.”

Her stomach turned. “Months?”

“Months.” His hand flexed against the restraint around his wrist. The repeated tracks outside the palace made sense now. Those guards had worn the same route into the dust twice a day for months.

Imani looked over the throne, the chains, and the empty chamber around him with growing disgust. “How are you even alive?”

“Guards come twice a day,” Saevel said. “They bring food and water. They clean me, deal with whatever else needs dealing with, check the restraints, then leave.” His eyes hardened. “Kiran wanted me imprisoned, not dead. A corpse would have been easier.”

Fury overtook the tenderness on Meira’s face moments earlier. Her hand closed tighter around Saevel’s arm.

Saevel pressed his forehead to Meira’s, as though he needed the touch to keep his rage from consuming him. With a screech, the chains strained under his pull, his magic signature exploding outward as their bodies slammed against the restraints. “I’m not afraid of him,” Meira whispered. “Not when I have you. Not when you’re mine.”

Her hands gripped his face and jaw, preventing him from looking away as Meira contained his rage. He breathed laboriously and irregularly while his body strained against the chains.

“Stay with me,” she said, her finger trailing down his bearded cheeks. “I’m here. You don’t lose to him like this down here. Not now.” The fury in his eyes remained as he looked at her, but her touch tamed it, redirecting it into something manageable instead of something that might explode. His hand moved to her wrist, careful despite the urgency, seeming to ground himself.

“I’ve got you,” she added, louder now. “We do this together.”

“You shouldn’t be this close, sweetheart,” he rasped, his voice breaking as his hand slid from her wrist to her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin with care. “You’re too beautiful for this. Too good for what I plan to do once I’m free.” He swallowed hard, his breath still uneven as he held her there. “I don’t deserve you.”

She didn’t pull away.