Page 63 of The Nymph King

Imani backed toward Esa until their shoulders nearly touched. The horses paced nervously behind the western edge of the formation, effectively removing the easiest retreat.

“Don’t kill them if you can help it!” a voice barked. “We need to know their value.”

One of the approaching fighters hesitated, but his attention dropped toward the space around her body as another witch stepped forward from behind the formation.

The newcomer carried himself differently from the soldiers, his wand already raised and his concentration fixed entirely on her magic. Imani felt his signature press outward, probing against hers with enough force to make understanding arrive before he spoke.

A Master Witch.

Her glamour could change what weaker witches believed they saw. It could give her another face, another shape, another recognizable collection of features. Her magic signature remained her own.

Most people would never have someone powerful enough to use that against her. Master Witches had grown rare, and nearly all of them served the Order in Stralas. Tanyl, however, had access to exactly the kind of witch who could sense past the disguise.

Worse, these men had already known where to look. They had intercepted two women traveling out of the Draswood, the same forest where Tanyl knew Imani had been hiding, and one of them was a pixie known to travel at her side.

They had crossed beyond the Draswood’s true boundary hours earlier. The trees here were dense, but their magic no longer pressed against Imani’s own, and no roots stirred beneath the soil in answer to the threat. Tanyl’s people had chosen their ground carefully. They could patrol the forest’s edge, watch the roads leading out of it, and wait for her to emerge without risking the Draswood turning on them.

The Master Witch’s expression changed. “It’s her,” he said. “The fugitive elf.”

“The impostor queen,” another corrected.

The soldiers converged, treating Esa as a mere obstacle to keep away from their true prize. This was a targeted abduction. The glamour had done exactly what it was meant to do. Against ordinary soldiers, her borrowed face would have held. Tanyl had simply sent the one kind of witch capable of confirming what his men already suspected. Her anonymity outside of Vathis wasn’t entirely shattered, but she would need to be far more careful.

“They’re not here to kill you,” Esa rasped, parrying a thrust. “We need to use that to our advantage.”

Two soldiers peeled away from the northern blockade and came at Imani from either side. A third held the center of the trail ahead of her, while the men behind prevented retreat toward Vathis. Esa engaged the attacker on Imani’s left, forcing him into the undergrowth, but another immediately moved into the space he’d left.

Esa was correct because they were tightening the ring instead of attacking outright. Swords and the witch’s wand remained angled defensively while empty hands reached for Imani whenever she gave them an opening.

But she was finally far enough from the Draswood to stop fearing what her shadows might do to its damaged magic. No strained roots lay beneath her feet, no wounded Fabric for them to tear wider. The restraint that had kept her from unleashing them inside the forest no longer served any purpose.

Imani stopped playing defense.

Drawing the Drasil, she fought back with the ferocity of a cornered predator. Shadows erupted from her signature, dark and violent, bolstering her physical strength. She swiped the wand overhead in a devastating arc. Swaths of black magic exploded outward, shattering the soldiers’ rhythm.

She intercepted a soldier mid-lunge, knocking him off balance before conjuring a thick, shadow-woven tether. With a vicious flick of her wrist, she slammed him into the earth hard enough to take him out of the fight entirely.

The Drasil vibrated in her grip.

“His Highness wants her alive!” the Master Witch roared, panic edging into his harsh voice. “Don’t lose her!”

Raising the Drasil over her head, Imani bared her teeth. More shadows erupted and spread across the trail.

She struck the eastern side. A sweep of the wand sent a heavy wave of darkness into the three men blocking the road. One staggered into a tree trunk. Another dropped to a knee. The third jumped aside, opening several feet of empty trail.

Esa used the opportunity to drive her opponent backward while Imani pivoted toward the men behind them before they could close. A shadow-woven tether caught one soldier across the waist. With a vicious flick of her wrist, she ripped him sideways and slammed him into the packed earth.

The formation broke in two.

For the first time since the ambush began, their formation broke.

Seeing the opening, Imani unleashed a storm. A feint to the left, a concussive blast to the right. Shadows tore through the soldiers’ ranks, forcing them into a panicked retreat. They couldn’t predict her; they couldn’t contain her, and their coordinated assault dissolved into a desperate scramble to regain their tight circle.

One soldier lunged, breaking formation in a reckless bid to grab her wrist. Imani saw it a fraction too late. His fingers brushed her skin before she violently twisted free, the shadow magic throwing him off balance. He crumpled to the dirt, his attack collapsing as quickly as it began.

A low, dark chuckle escaped Imani’s throat. She leveled the Drasil at the remaining men. “Who’s next? I have chains of my own to offer.”

A silent, terrified command passed between the men.