Page 32 of The Nymph King

She ripped her hand away and deliberately dragged the memories forward. His hands—the same ones that had touched her so incredibly—offered no comfort but exerted control. His voice was no longer intimate but cutting. She forced herself to remember the moment he chose power over her without hesitation. Kiran wasn’t a temptation, not anymore. He was a threat wrapped in something dangerously familiar, a man who would take everything she had and call it fate. Imani locked her jaw and forced the pull down hard, reclaiming herself before it could take root any deeper.

At least it was empty. Of that, she was sure and grateful. Within seconds of regaining her wits, Imani dragged the Drasil down her body to render herself invisible.

And it wasn’t a moment too soon. Her body disappeared, and the door crashed open, slamming into the wall and nearly coming off its hinges. A furious Kiran entered, threw his crown to the floor, and threaded both hands through his hair. He let out a frustrated sound, then cut himself off abruptly, whipping around so fast that Imani almost let out a peep of surprise. His eyes darted to the corner where she stood, and he put his hands on his hips. Lifting his chin, he seemed to smell her presence even though he couldn’t see her.

“Imani?” he whispered her name so softly she almost didn’t hear him.

Zadie stormed in after him. She was a petite River nymph, with her skin radiating a faint glow. Blonde waves of hair cascaded over her shoulders, threaded with mossy green that caught the dim light. She snapped her fingers in front of Kiran’s face. “What goes through that head of yours, hmm?”

Kiran blinked a few times, then leveled his glare at her. “I detest the man.”

“He’s the new High Sentinel of the Drow elves, and he has two daughters. One of them must become your new chosen.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation,” growled Kiran, prowling over to his desk. He leaned against it and crossed his arms. “Again.”

“I don’t particularly care what you want,” Zadie shot back. “It’s what’s needed to build alliances and shore up our forces.”

Kiran ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. “I know. I just need a little more time,” he sighed.

Imani clutched her wand tighter, a cold spike of possessiveness driving into her ribs. Despite the anger she still held for the man, she didn’t want to see him with anyone else.

Zadie leaned closer to him. “She’s not coming back, no matter what you do, Kiran.” Her voice was soft, almost pleading.

Were they talking about Imani? Damn right she wasn’t coming back. Aside from this little escapade, she never wanted to be any farther from here until she was officially queen. She just had to figure out how to get back as soon as she could.

“What I need from her is something else entirely,” he sneered.

“What plans do you have laid out, then?”

“Nothing firm yet. I’m still working out the details,” he said, turning and pouring himself a whiskey. “You’ll be the first to know.”

“Hmm.” She offered him her shoulder. “Forgive me if I don’t quite trust you these days.”

Imani perked up. Dissension among the ranks?

“Well,” Kiran said, taking a sip of his drink, “that sounds like your problem.”

CHAPTER 10

She stumbled into her room, in front of the mirror. After several failed attempts, she’d finally shadowed herself back. Zadie would be proud.

The crown’s petals fluttered, and for a second, Imani was so angry that it had chosen her that she lashed out. With the Drasil in hand, she smashed her head against the glass. It didn’t move. Magic protected by delicate flowers. Shards fell to the ground, and a spiderwebbed crack appeared on the mirror.

She did it again and again. And again, until she blasted it with the Drasil, and glass flew everywhere. One piece finally lodged in her cheek, and blood began dripping down her face. Even then, it didn’t hurt. Imani looked at her hands, bloody and trembling, as the crown’s power pushed the shard out of her skin, dropping it to the floor with a soft plink. It was always protecting her. She couldn’t even really hurt herself unless she used the Drasil, and even then, the power was nearly equal.

The crown had kept the worst of the pain from reaching her, pushed glass from her skin, and her shadows had carried her across half a kingdom.

Surely that had to count for something.

Perhaps she did not need the idiotic crown-removal test she had been reckless enough to suggest after all. If she could demonstrate impossible magic in front of his council, they would have to believe something about her was different.

Whether different meant queen was another question.

Her legs finally gave out, and she sank onto the edge of the bed, elbows braced on her knees, staring at the glittering wreckage scattered across the floor.

Glancing down, she couldn't stop her hands from shaking. She curled them into fists.

“Pathetic,” she muttered. There was only herself to blame. It was her own fault for crossing the distance and entering Kiran’s room because some treacherous part of her had needed to see him, needed to know what he was doing, needed to stand close enough to test whether the bond still had the power to dismantle her.