Page 57 of The Nymph King

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s close enough.”

Zadie stopped in front of him, her eyes narrowing to a pinpoint. “You’re removing yourself from his plan, which creates a gap.”

“Good.”

“Gaps get filled.”

“Then I’ll fill it,” he sneered.

“With what?”

Kiran’s expression morphed into pure disdain as he deliberated paths that hadn’t fully resolved. “With position,” he said finally. “With timing. With whatever remains when the rest of them overextend.”

Zadie’s attention broke to the window as an owl hooted outside. “And her?”

Kiran put his fingers to his mouth, thinking.

“That’s not part of this,” he said, finally.

“It’s already part of it,” Zadie pressed. A muscle in his jaw jumped—the first visible crack in his control. “She complicates the plan. Whether you account for that or not doesn’t change it.”

“I am accounting for it,” Kiran said, a muscle in his jaw flexing slightly.

“By ignoring it?”

“By not letting it dictate the move.”

Imani didn’t think he was lying. She knew Kiran well enough by now to spot his tells. But his honesty only made his resolve terrifyingly predictable to Imani. Cunning did not veil the threat because belief and peril walked the same path. The bare truth was that Kiran scared Imani. Whatever he had planned would ripple outward, reshaping Essenheim and pulling her into the wreckage, whether she stood with him or against him.

Her fists clenched, and she leaned closer without realizing it.

Zadie exhaled slowly. “You’re balancing too many variables.”

“No,” Kiran said. “I’m removing the ones I don’t need.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

Kiran shrugged. “Then I adjust.” The words were delivered with chilling, absolute certainty.

Zadie held his stare, then gave an imperceptible nod. “You’ll only get one clean strike.”

“That’s all I need.”

“And if Tanyl sees it coming?”

Kiran’s mouth curled into a faint, cruel smirk. “Then he won’t be the only one prepared.”

Instability struck without warning. The chamber’s edges warped, the steady lines of stone melting out of focus. Voices stretched and thinned, words catching and distorting. The vision unraveled, detail by detail, fragmenting the spell into something Imani could no longer latch onto.

Kiran’s voice cut through the static⁠—

“… not part of this…” then, harsher, “… she changes the balance…”

Another line followed, stretched by the failing connection— “… not letting her…”

And then nothing. The vision collapsed, and Imani jolted back.