Page 91 of The Nymph King

Light flickered everywhere. Candles had replaced the harsher braziers—hundreds of them, set in tiers along the walls, clustered at the base of the columns, and suspended in ironwork rings above. Their flames trembled, casting shifting patterns across the stone and petals alike, catching on polished leaves and the faint sheen of wax.

They removed the council table. In its place stood a circular dais etched with old markings—lines and sigils worn smooth with time, faintly luminous beneath the firelight. A long aisle cut through the center of the room, ending at a raised platform of dark stone.

Ellisar and Imani had invited a smaller contingent of the Yule Ball attendees. Advisors sat closest, followed by nobles, each person taking a spot where they could see and be seen easily.

Imani paused outside the room for a moment, steadying her breathing.

Deep emerald velvet draped over her body, the fabric catching the light in low, shifting depths that deepened with every step. The dress held close through her waist and hips before falling in a clean line to the floor. Long, fitted sleeves ran along her arms, the velvet brushing her skin as she moved. The neckline framed her collarbone, leaving her throat bare for the claim that was supposed to happen during the consummation following the ceremony.

But Imani had no intention of allowing that to happen. This was a political arrangement, nothing more.

The crown fluttered in the drafty hallway, and she brushed a few leaves off her brow.

Her decision pressed in on her again, the queasiness in her stomach making her question it—whether binding herself to Ellisar was truly the right move, whether she was choosing power over an opportunity she did not yet fully understand.

Meira would have her choose Kiran, her heartmate, over everything.

Memory cut through the doubt, though. Kiran’s voice when she’d found him in bed with another female. The way he had needed her—not for her, but for what she could give him.

Her fist clenched as she hardened her resolve. She would have no more regret for how this mating made him react.

Steeling her back, Imani strode into the chamber.

The room responded instantly—rising and bowing.

She moved with her spine straight, and her chin held high.

Ellisar was already waiting at the edge of the dais.

He hadn’t positioned himself above her as she’d expected, nor had he stepped onto the raised stone before she arrived. He stood just below it, aligned with the center, as if the space itself would be complete only when they occupied it together.

Dark fabric fell perfectly along his frame, fitted through his shoulders and chest before dropping in a straight line. The material was dense and formal. Silver threading traced the seams and cuffs.

When she reached him, he inclined his head.

She returned it in kind.

Then, without ceremony, they stepped onto the dais at the same moment.

The markings beneath their feet responded, light pulsing faintly through the etched lines, alive in a way that made the chamber feel bigger.

Neither was positioned in front of the other, nor did either lean to imply dominance. The gap between them was close enough to suggest unity, yet far enough apart to indicate independence. Imani hoped the court saw two distinct witches brought into harmony, each emphasizing the other without yielding, rather than romance.

She tightened her grip on the bouquet.

An officiant from the Royal Order of Magic stood opposite them—Master Witch Oren Valis, an older Norn with iron-gray hair swept back from a narrow face and deep-set blue eyes. He wore dark ceremonial robes bearing no insignia beyond the faint suggestion of the same markings carved into the stone. He did not speak at first, waiting for the room to quiet.

Then, when it did⁠—

“This rite,” Valis began, his voice carrying across the stone chamber, “is not a declaration of love, nor a promise of what may exist between two people in private. It is a declaration of alliance.”

Imani’s grip loosened slightly around the bouquet.

“A chosen mating recognizes two parties who willingly bind their political interests, public authority, and protection to one another. It creates obligation between them before the realm and gives each a recognized place beside the other.”

Valis looked first to Imani, then Ellisar.

“It does not promise affection. It does not require physical intimacy beyond what either chooses to give. It does not promise children, heirs, or a shared bloodline. It does not make one party sovereign through the other’s body or magic. Those matters remain separate and must be chosen separately.”