Page 38 of The Nymph King

Then the water rushing below their ship vibrated. The tremor traveled upward through the hull, rattling the planks under her feet. Ropes shook against their fastenings. Masts shivered on nearby vessels, and several ships rocked at once, even though the waves moved in another direction.

Her stomach churned at the movement, because she knew what it meant.

The slip was the first warning, and the disturbance beneath the sea was another. A Fabric event was beginning.

If the fracture continued widening, Lochheim could keep forcing ships through while the instability spread beneath the water. What began as a tremor could become a ground quake powerful enough to break the coastline, overturn vessels, or rupture the Fabric somewhere else entirely.

Another vibration passed beneath her feet, stronger than the first, and her knuckles whitened as she gripped the railing.

There was no time for deliberation. The slip widened with every pulse, admitting additional Lochheim vessels while the water beneath them continued to tremble. If she waited, this would stop being an invasion and become a catastrophe.

Magic flashed along the battle line before she could fully register it. Heads turned, spells faltered for half a breath, and she felt the weight of their attention as they watched her.

Visibility was important today. It was a resource in her arsenal, a way to prove she was the monarch.

Imani pushed farther toward the bow.

Ellisar stood a few paces back, his mouth in a hard line, but he didn’t stop her.

The slip loomed ahead, and its pressure grew with every yard the vessel crossed. Magic moved around her in unstable currents, pulling against her signature. The water below churned harder as the fracture widened.

She reached forward with her wand, and a splash of water dripped down her face.

The world narrowed. While the battle continued around her, she knew what she had come here to do.

Behind the slip waited families desperate enough to cross into a war. In front of it stood Norn soldiers fighting to keep their own home.

No version of this choice left everyone safe.

CHAPTER 12

The boat slammed through the choppy water, its hull shuddering with each impact as it cut toward the center of the melee. Imani stood near the front of the deck with the Drasil already drawn, one hand gripping the railing whenever the vessel pitched beneath her. Ahead, the slip loomed larger with every second, warping the horizon into hundreds of ripples.

That was her destination.

The Norn vessel carried her directly toward the fracture, as close as Ellisar believed they could safely get before she tried to close it. Everything between them and the slip—the Lochheim ships, the spells tearing through the air, the bodies moving through the water—was an obstacle they would have to clear first.

Imani raised the Drasil, thinking through the magic she might use to overpower the slip.

A spell struck the water off the port side, throwing spray across the deck. Another passed overhead before exploding against a Norn vessel behind them.

Imani tracked the Lochheim witches aboard one of the nearest enemy ships. At first, they appeared to be casting with empty hands, sweeping their arms through the air while fighting to keep their footing on the pitching deck. Then one turned his wrist, and wood flashed beneath his sleeve.

She squinted and saw their wands were smaller than the ones used in Essenheim or Niflheim, strapped flat along the insides of their forearms. A turn of the wrist or sweep of the hand directed the spell while leaving their fingers free to catch ropes, railings, or one another.

Clever.

Especially on a ship, but right now she needed them out of her path.

Ellisar apparently reached the same conclusion, taking the lead at the front of the boat. The men around him made way instinctively, as if they already knew what he was about to do. When he reached the hull, the space was his, claimed completely. His magic accumulated, bulging his signature and rising so far outward that Imani nearly flinched. It expanded in successive waves, spreading until the other men’s magic signatures bowed to adapt to its presence.

The sight frightened her.

Powerful witches could overwhelm weaker signatures if they pushed hard enough, but rather than using force, everyone else’s magic seemed to recognize Ellisar’s before they consciously reacted, contracting and adjusting around the invisible pressure of his presence. Imani’s own signature did the same thing, drawing closer to her body on instinct.

She had never felt another Norn elf make the magic around them behave that way.

He drew his wand with a single, unhurried motion. When he swept it overhead, power sliced out in a controlled strike, catching multiple Lochheim vessels at once and striking anchors and helms he couldn’t possibly have seen. Hulls split open, decks shuddered as structures gave way, and the ships tilted as their balance failed.