Page 18 of The Nymph King

“At least she’s Norn!”

“That doesn’t make her our queen!”

Another woman pushed close enough for Imani to see tears shining on her cheeks. She pressed one hand over her heart and bowed her head. “Gods bless you, my queen.”

Imani could only gape at her.

Three feet away, another elf spat into the road.

The contradiction followed her all the way toward Ellisar’s estate. Oddly, the hostility steadied her almost as much as the support. Blind reverence would have been useless. This was more honest. Tanyl had given the realm her face and told them what to believe about it, but he had not succeeded in deciding the question for everyone. Some already wanted her to be queen. Some would never accept her. Most, she suspected, were waiting to see which version of the story survived contact with Ellisar.

The crowd could recognize her. Gavin could swear to what he had witnessed. None of it settled the political question. Ellisar’s judgment would carry weight in Vathis that a wanted poster, a living Crown of Life, and a hundred shouting strangers could not.

Maybe he would believe her.

Maybe he would have her arrested.

Either way, she had finally reached someone powerful enough to force the question into the open.

* * *

The crowds dispersed as they approached the estate’s gates. Ellisar certainly didn’t lack security around Vathis. How would she ever see the man? He remained a shrouded mystery in her mind. That made him dangerous in a different way than Kiran. Not because he was unpredictable, but because he had chosen not to be seen. That kind of restraint suggested control. And control, she had learned, was far harder to break.

At the estate entrance, more guards demanded papers, and again Gavin held up the wanted poster and gestured broadly toward Imani. “I present to you the true queen of Essenheim. We must speak with the High Sentinel.”

The guards stood in complete silence for a few seconds, staring at the crown. Gavin snapped his fingers. “I said we need to speak with the High Sentinel.”

“It’s really her,” one guard whispered to another, clapping him on the back.

The lead guard shook his head as if trying to come back to reality. “I’m afraid that’s not possible today. He’s out on unknown business outside the city, but he will return tomorrow. In the meantime, we’ll search your belongings and then get you settled with rooms, meals, and baths.”

Gavin nodded and helped Imani and Esa out of the cart. It felt good to stretch her legs after sitting, then standing, for so long. She glanced up at the estate as it glittered in the sunlight. It was perfectly white and massive. The kind of place built to last, not just through time but also through conflict. Every line suggested permanence, as though it had been designed to withstand repeated assaults without weakening its foundation.

Of course, it would need to be large enough to conduct business here and to host other Sentinels, as well as the monarch, if required. She didn’t think a monarch had been here for a hundred years or more, though.

Gardens full of plants she’d never seen lined the edge of the lawn and surrounded the building, with a huge fountain and benches at the center.

She loved it. It was the most beautiful home she’d ever seen. If she survived long enough, Imani decided she’d build her own home like this one. Someplace to call her own. Not tied to someone else’s legacy or expectations. Something built because she chose it and claimed it fully. The idea lingered longer than she allowed, pressing into something deeper than simple desire.

A pang of pain squeezed her heart because she’d always imagined being with her partner whenever she daydreamed about her own home.

But that wasn’t on the cards for her. Solitude was also comforting, and she pushed such troubling thoughts aside as a steward greeted them at the gates.

“Good afternoon. I’m Ralnor, and I oversee the High Sentinel’s estate. Please follow me as I escort you to your rooms and introduce your ladies’ maids, who will assist you with bathing and bring you a hot meal.”

A no-nonsense man, Ralnor turned on his heel, a silent directive to follow.

Ralnor offered no visible reaction to the crown, the wanted posters, or Gavin’s claims. Whether he believed any of it seemed irrelevant to him. Ellisar would decide what mattered. Until then, Ralnor apparently intended to do his job exactly as he always did.

Esa shrugged, and they both started after him. As they walked, Imani watched a man in an outfit similar to Ralnor’s take Gavin into another wing, and she could almost see the top of her childhood home.

A familiar ache tightened in her chest. The past did not sit quietly. It threaded through everything she touched here; every memory tied to a place she no longer belonged to as she once had. That was the cost of survival, she supposed.

She hung her head.

It was her fault they had to leave this wondrous city after she’d killed her grandfather. Although she knew it was an accident that her parents had died, too, she still felt partly responsible. They were escorting her away from the Vathis, after all. If it weren’t for her, they wouldn’t have even been there. Back before that mess, when her grandfather was still alive, Ara had been strict but not the tyrant she’d become after her heartmate’s death. Another sin that seemed to fall on Imani’s shoulders.

Pushing the thoughts away, she gathered her mud-stained skirts and hurried to catch up with Ralnor and Esa. Again, opulence greeted them, with doors carved from Draswood. She could feel magic emanating from them, but Ralnor wasn’t afraid. He pushed one open, held it for the ladies, and kept walking.