Chapter 7
Imani woke before she understood why, her body alert beneath the covers as a faint pressure moved against the edge of her magic signature.
She wouldn’t have noticed it otherwise. The moon shone bright through her window, and her shadows danced along the walls, irritated at being confined.
Voices existed somewhere outside, but she could not make out the words.
That alone piqued her curiosity. With elvish hearing, she should have caught something.
Bolting up, she strained to find the source of the disturbance.
Magic covered the courtyard below. Wrinkling her brow in concentration, she reached out with her signature and shadows. With a lurch, she grabbed her chest as they slammed into an invisible barrier.
There was a privacy ward there now, when there hadn’t been one when she’d fallen asleep.
More curiosity pushed through her last bit of exhaustion. Someone had gone to considerable trouble to make sure a conversation could not be overheard in a place where most elves could hear through stone doors and open windows.
Which meant she absolutely needed to hear it.
Imani threw back the covers and stepped lightly onto the carpeted stone floor.
Her window was cracked open for the night air, but when she crossed to it, the courtyard below remained unnaturally muted.
Two male Norn elves stood several yards from the estate beneath the branches of an enormous tree, their mouths moving without sound reaching her.
One of them wore the full regalia of a high-ranking soldier. His hand rose briefly, two fingers tracing a small motion through the air. Magic rippled outward from him and joined the barrier already covering the courtyard, reinforcing it until even the scrape of his boots disappeared.
Imani put her hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh.
At least they weren’t idiots.
Her shadows slipped from beneath her feet.
Crouching in case they looked up at her room, she took out the Drasil and directed the darkness toward the slit in the open window, keeping their movement low against the floor before sending them over the sill and down the exterior wall.
Blackness spread between stones, branches, and roots as the shadows searched for the ward's edge.
Resistance met them at once. The barrier pushed back, dense enough that forcing through it directly would expose her.
At that, she stopped forcing and sliced her wand through the air.
Her shadows divided, splitting down the middle.
Thin strands worked along the perimeter, slipping through gaps where the ward met living wood, threading into the darkness beneath the tree roots until they found places the captain’s magic had not completely sealed. With a push, the resistance weakened.
One strand passed through.
Then another.
Sound rushed back into her ears in fragments.
“Whatever you learned out there, don’t underestimate the king,” the captain said. “Everyone we know who’s tried to kill him has failed.”
“So I learned,” the other man replied. “That doesn’t make him immortal.”
“I’ve never seen protection like his.”
“Neither have I. But I’ve heard of power capable of challenging it, and apparently some of that power just arrived in Vathis.”
Imani gripped the windowsill, wand between her teeth, while keeping one hand against the stone as she fed more shadow through the narrow weakness in the ward.
The King? Were they talking about Tanyl or Kiran?
Although the privacy spell swallowed anything her ordinary hearing might have caught, her shadows carried the conversation back through the breach in broken pieces, enough for her to follow if she concentrated.
Flicking her head slightly, wand still in her mouth, she widened the opening by another fraction.
The courtyard came alive in her head.
One was a high-ranking guard in full regalia, his armor polished to a muted sheen that caught the low light without reflecting it outright.
He stood with practiced stillness, hands resting on the pommel of his sword, but the tension in his posture gave him away—the slight furrow between his brows, the way his gaze kept shifting as if measuring something unseen.
The other man, cloaked and at least an inch or two broader, moved with a different ease.
He secured his horse with efficient, unhurried motions, then pulled back his hood, revealing himself without hesitation.
He stepped forward as if he owned the space, a faint smirk pulling at his mouth. To Imani, he appeared more amused than concerned, which made her wonder what he knew.
“The king can die. Of that I am certain. I’m still determining the protection he keeps around him, because while it’s difficult to kill him… everyone has a deadly weakness.”
He cocked his head, and a lock of curled, pure silver hair fell across his brow.
The Norn male brushed the strands off and ran two hands through his thick, short hair.
His large, bright blue eyes practically glowed in the dark, tempered only by the long black lashes framing them.
His nose was straight and perfect, with cheekbones sharper than knives.
The captain straightened when the other man approached. His shoulders pulled back, and the easy posture he’d held a moment earlier disappeared beneath something that looked suspiciously like deference.
It clicked then, fast and unmistakable.
Imani knew this Norn, and she sucked in a breath.
It had to be Ellisar. The High Sentinel. The man who held the Draswood and its people under his command with unyielding authority. And standing there, watching him speak as if the world would move the way he decided it should, she understood why.
Most people saw whatever a competent glamour told them to see.
Powerful witches were harder to fool. They could sense the pressure of magic being maintained over a body, especially when emotion made the illusion ripple, even if they could not always see the exact truth beneath it. Ellisar would be one of those witches.
Ellisar pulled off one riding glove. Mud darkened the hem of his cloak and the leather of his boots. He had clearly come straight from the road.
“You had me summoned before I’d even made it inside,” he said. “What happened?”
The captain glanced toward the south wing, and Ellisar followed the movement.
When he looked back at his captain, a grin tugged at his mouth.
“She’s here, isn’t she?” Something almost excited roughened his tone.
The lead guard nodded curtly. “She and her companion arrived yesterday. I saw her wearing the crown, and her magic signature is… intimidating. She’s small, even for a Norn, and though worn from her travels, her beauty is astounding.
More than one man was sneaking a glance at her.
But there was something in her eyes… a keen violence.
We must not let her appearance blind us. She’s dangerous. I can feel it.”
Ellisar let out a small chuckle. “So, you believe she’s the queen.”
“I’ve never met a true monarch before, but if I did, I imagine she’d have close to the power this female did yesterday. And after our trip to the capital and meeting the impostor king… yes, I believe we have the queen of Essenheim here.”
“Where is she?”
“Resting in the south wing. We’re tailoring her a new wardrobe overnight, with the seamstresses working overtime. She’ll be ready to meet you tomorrow.”
Removing his cloak, Ellisar nodded. “Good. I don’t want to wait longer.
There’s much at stake, and even though I trust your judgment, I need to see for myself whether she is who she says she is.
And we have little time. Our enemies are looking for weaknesses.
We need to shore up defenses and decide whose side of the war we’re on with this one. ”
The effort of holding the breach had begun to burn behind Imani’s temples. She eased one strand of shadow back before the pressure became noticeable, leaving only enough inside the ward to carry their voices.
Below, the captain glanced toward the estate.
Her breath held and she ducked lower. Had he seen her?
He stepped closer to Ellisar. “There’s one more piece of new intel, High Sentinel.”
Ellisar looked toward the windows now, irritation crossing his face as he ripped off his other glove. “Not here.”
“It cannot wait.”
The captain lifted his hand again, and the privacy ward contracted. Magic layered over magic, sealing the courtyard more completely than before and crushing the narrow path her shadows had found. Sound vanished.
Damn him.
She pushed further, sending the shadows around the tree rather than against the barrier itself. Roots crossed under the ward. Living things ignored boundaries drawn by spells. Her darkness followed them, but seconds elapsed, and she caught nothing.
Gritting her teeth, she pushed harder.
Then the captain’s voice returned, but it was faint.
They turned to move into the estate, and the guard grabbed Ellisar’s arm to stop him. “There’s one more piece of new intel, High Sentinel.”
Ellisar shot a dark look at the captain’s hand on his arm. “What?”
He dropped his grip. “Scouts east of the Draswood saw an enormous shadow crossing the countryside. Winged. Too large to be any ordinary shifter.”
The High Sentinel cocked his head again. “Kiran.”
“That’s my assumption. If he followed her here, he may already know she reached Vathis.”
Ellisar’s hand flexed. “Anything else?”
“Word out of Niflheim says they’re heartmates.”
“That rumor I’ve heard.”
“I’m beginning to think it isn’t a rumor.”
“Agreed.” Ellisar cracked his knuckles. “But she belongs with her people. If he tries anything, he knows it won’t be an easy fight.” He paused. “I’ve taken him before, years ago. I’ll do it again to keep her here. If she’s what we’re looking for—and only if.”
The guard nodded, and the conversation ended almost immediately.