Page 94 of The Nymph King

The room tilted as she nearly leaned into his hand.

“I still love him,” she rasped.

His nostrils flared, but he didn’t move away. “And I told you it’s okay.”

“You keep saying that…” she trailed off.

“Because you keep expecting the answer to change.”

Imani looked away, feeling unbearably exposed. Perhaps some part of her had been wanting his anger or frustration.

“I knew what Kiran was to you before I agreed to this. I knew the bond existed. I knew you hated him, and I knew hatred was not the only thing holding you to him.” He paused. “I chose you knowing that.”

Her head snapped back up. “And if part of me always answers him?”

Ellisar rubbed a hand across his jaw, thinking.

Imani held her breath.

“Then part of you always answers him,” he said, finally. His expression hardened slightly as he added, “That does not mean I will stand aside while he harms you. It does not mean I will tolerate him threatening this realm. And if he comes for you as though you are something he can collect, he and I will have a problem.”

“That sounds like jealousy.”

“It is jealousy.” Ellisar gave a small shrug. “I am capable of jealousy without making it your punishment.”

Imani studied him for another moment. “You’re very good at telling me what you don’t expect from me.”

Ellisar’s brow drew together, but he didn’t respond.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice quiet.

He crossed to the edge of the bed and sat, loosening the high fastening at his throat as though the formal clothes had finally become intolerable. Without the court watching him, some of the High Sentinel disappeared. His shoulders dropped. He rubbed his face with both hands, then stared at the stone floor between his boots.

“I already told you that I want a home,” he said. Ellisar gave a faint, embarrassed huff when she continued staring. “Not a palace. I have spent enough of my life in fortresses.”

“You live in one.”

“Against my better judgment.”

A laugh threatened at the back of her throat, but she swallowed it.

He unbuttoned his shirt a bit, loosening the collar. “I used to think I would eventually stop being useful enough for someone to send me somewhere dangerous. I would find a house where I could hear nothing more threatening than people arguing in the kitchen. There would be too many books, because apparently I keep buying them despite having nowhere permanent to put them. Someone would complain about my boots being left by the door.”

Imani could picture it far too easily. “You leave your boots by the door?” she asked.

“Constantly.”

“Appalling.”

“I have hidden it well.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, but the humor faded quickly.

“But mostly I want people there,” he continued. “A family. Friends who came in without waiting to be announced. A place where no one needed me to be High Sentinel before breakfast.” His fingers linked loosely between his knees. “Nothing particularly grand.”

Her chest clenched. “And now you’re king.”

“Yes.” His dry expression returned. “A catastrophic failure of planning.”