Page 4 of The Nymph King

A crude disruption spell pulsed outward from the square’s center. She tucked her head into her shoulder, but the glamour shuddered, flickering violently.

The glamour could not erase what lay beneath it. Imani had only laid another appearance over the truth, and enough opposing magic, or one violent surge of her own emotion, could make that illusion ripple. Her fingers gripped her wand tighter in her pocket.

A boy near the storefront squinted. “There⁠—”

Imani pulled herself into full invisibility, but she was half a second too late.

“She’s here!”

The square fractured into chaos. Wands ignited, and spells flashed blindly, scorching the morning air. The riot had lost its aim and found its target. One thousand royal coins were more than most of these people would ever see in a lifetime.

Imani slipped between bodies as the crowd tightened, but the search was already becoming systematic. Elves fanned outward. More disruption pulses surged through the square, pressing against her magic. Her invisibility strained, its edges thinning as she forced it to hold.

A hand caught her wrist.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. She twisted hard, shadow snapping to her fingertips before she wrestled it down, wrenching free as a second spell cracked through the space she’d occupied. Heat blistered the air beside her cheek.

“Block the streets!”

“Check every door!”

Her intended sanctuary had become a trap. Reaching a quieter stretch of alley, she dropped her failing invisibility and quickly waved her wand over her face, reshaping her glamour into the plain, weathered features of a Norn traveler.

This time she made the disguise more specific. Her long silver braid became a shorter, dull-gray plait tucked beneath her hood. She roughened the smooth planes of her face, deepened faint lines around her mouth and brow, muted her blue eyes toward a washed-out gray, and darkened her pale skin with the uneven wrinkling of an elf who spent most of her life on the road. She left the delicate points of her ears unchanged. There was no reason to hide that she was an elf here, only which elf she was.

Her pulse quickened in her ears, but she forced herself to walk steadily. Panic drew attention. She needed to buy some seconds.

An inn stood near the end of the road. It was weathered but intact, with a thin plume of smoke curling from its chimney. She ducked inside, letting several silver coins clatter on the counter before the door had fully closed behind her.

“A room,” she demanded.

The older Norn elf behind the desk did not reach for the money as she’d anticipated. Instead, he glanced from her hood to the door, where the shouting drew closer with every heartbeat.

“You’re early for travelers,” he murmured.

Outside, a mass of boots pounded over the cobblestones. “Search the inns!”

His blue eyes searched her face, seeming to calculate her value. He had probably seen enough to know she was hiding something, and in another few seconds one of the other villagers would offer him part of the reward to decide whether that mattered.

She could maintain the lie and hope greed did not win. Or she could give him a better reason to keep his mouth shut.

Imani let a sliver of pure, inky shadow coil around two fingers beneath the edge of the counter, angled so only he could see it. Just enough to make the consequence of betraying her impossible to misunderstand.

“Is that a problem?” she asked.

Those discerning eyes lingered on the dull-gray braid at her temple before dropping to the coins, his mouth drawing into a wary line. Then he looked past her through the front window, toward the cracked street and the buildings the king had yet to repair. Could he somehow sense the Crown of Life beneath her glamour? A powerful witch in these parts was rare, not unheard of, though.

“One thousand coins for you,” he muttered. “But no money for us after what happened. King’s gone mad.”

Imani said nothing.

His ears flicked back and forth. Elves burst through the door, their eyes wild.

“Anyone come in?” the lead elf demanded.

The innkeeper’s fingers stayed curled around the silver. “No,” he said without hesitation. “Been quiet all morning.”

The men scanned the room, their eyes sliding right over Imani’s glamour, and after a tense moment, they turned and left.