Chapter 8
Ellisar made them wait in their chambers for over half an hour after they’d finished dressing before calling them to the meeting room.
Imani spent every minute remembering the cruel smile she had seen from her window the night before, the ease with which he discussed killing a king, and the casual certainty that he could defeat Kiran again.
Now he was making her wait.
Perhaps another person would have called that scheduling, but Imani called it a power play.
Despite never having officially met him, she had already decided the elf was horrifying and infuriating. Again, it reminded her of someone else she knew.
Esa put a hand on her shoulder. “Even if he is making you wait on purpose, don’t give him the satisfaction. Elves like games. Ignore it.”
The pixie’s hand remained on her shoulder a second too long, and Imani shrugged it off. Comfort was one thing. Pity was another, and she hated that she couldn’t tell which one Esa was offering.
The possibility of it being pity made her skin prickle.
She did not want her friend looking at her and seeing someone who needed to be soothed. Imani had to appear strong—to be strong—and she didn’t want comfort. She wanted answers.
“Then I will play games right back at him once he deems our time worth as much as his own,” Imani hissed, unable to hide the irritation in her voice.
Just as she finished, the door opened, and a servant entered. “The High Sentinel will see you now.”
Exchanging glares, Esa and Imani lifted their dresses and stood to follow the servant.
A servant led them out of the south guest wing and into the estate’s central portion.
They crossed a long gallery overlooking the inner gardens, descended a shallow flight of white stone stairs, then passed beneath an archway into a broader corridor lined with large paintings and closed doors.
Beyond the windows to Imani’s left lay the front lawns and the road they had entered from.
The deeper they went, the farther they moved from the private rooms and into the part of the estate clearly meant for governance.
The maid leading them prattled on about the paintings, but Imani paid little attention. She was entirely focused on her plan to get the upper hand on the High Sentinel.
If the wait was meant as disrespect, then he clearly didn’t believe her yet.
At the end of the hallway, the space widened into a small antechamber dominated by a sweeping set of double doors adorned with dark wooden inlay. Two guards stood on either side, and the muffled movement of several people came from beyond them.
With a creak, the servant cracked open the door to a room filled with High Norn elves, both men and women.
The room was expansive, with high, ornate ceilings and tall windows running along one side.
A council table dominated the chamber, surrounded by enough chairs for several dozen people, though some of the High Norn had chosen to stand at the edges rather than sit.
Maps of Essenheim and the Draswood covered one wall, while another held shelves crowded with ledgers and rolled documents.
Ellisar occupied the largest chair at the head of the room, big enough for two people, and crossed one leg over the other as he lazily watched Imani and Esa make their way down the carpeted stretch, their dresses held up, wands in hand.
The difference between him and Kiran hit her acutely. In a scene like this, her heartmate would pretend she didn’t exist, but Ellisar reminded Imani of Magnus, who’d watched her keenly when she’d entered his Throne room all those months ago.
Ellisar barely moved, but his magic did not need movement to announce itself. The instant Imani stepped inside, her own signature reacted to his.
While no one could see his magic, she sensed the invisible pressure surrounding him, broad enough that her instincts registered it before she consciously understood why.
Her own magic signature reached out and tested his boundary, then recoiled from the sheer density of energy occupying the space around him.
Only occasionally did the air nearest his shoulders betray anything physical at all, wavering faintly for a heartbeat like heat rising from sun-warmed stone, then returning to normal.
He was rumored to be a twelve-mark, and in this moment, she believed them.
The High Sentinel regarded her with cold curiosity, his head tipping down as he studied every inch of Imani—her beaded slippers, her sapphire-adorned dress, her blue eyes, and the crown on her head.
She had met the powerful High Sentinel of the Nymphs before when she worked for her grandmother’s magic business, but this one did not act like the nymph High Sentinel.
Indeed, Ellisar did not bother with glamour like many others. His obvious Norn features only made the force surrounding him more concerning.
Their eyes met and locked. A strange flutter rippled through Imani’s core, as if a magic deep inside urged her to run.
This elf had a beautiful face, yet somehow, he made it look threatening.
Short silver-blond hair, longer on top and shaved at the sides, with broad shoulders.
A full, lush mouth remained unsmiling, and his cerulean eyes, which could practically swallow you whole, watched her shrewdly.
His appearance struck her with a sudden familiarity that hurt more than she expected.
She had been away from Vathis long enough to forget what it felt like to look at someone and see home written so plainly across his face.
She wondered what he looked like when he laughed.
He wasn’t laughing now.
Both Esa and Imani curtsied respectfully, though once Imani had her throne, she’d curtsy to no one. Right now, she didn’t have that luxury.
The tension in the room was so thick it felt like a blade pressed against her skin.
Without moving, Ellisar held up a piece of paper from his chair’s armrest.
“Is this you, Lady Aowyn?”
“It’s Your Majesty,” she corrected through gritted teeth, then nodded. “And yes, that’s my face.”
“Your Majesty, you say? That remains to be determined.” A cold glare cut through her confidence.
“So you answer to the impostor king, Tanyl, do you?” Imani asked brazenly.
Ellisar’s eyes hardened into stones. “I answer to no one,” he said darkly.
She swallowed hard. When she looked at him, her face heated and her breathing quickened.
Kiran should be more afraid of this man, was the first thought that came to her mind as she took in Ellisar’s calculated demeanor.
There was no madness in his eyes, as there might be in Kiran’s—just cold, cunning intelligence.
The Norn flipped his wand between his fingers, and the air nearest his hand rippled faintly before smoothing again.
Aside from Kiran, the male Norn elf might be the most dangerous person in both kingdoms.
She seemed to be alone in that opinion, given the lack of attention he received and the scant information available about him. But it was true.
Imani brushed a few errant strands of hair from her face as she took one of the open seats closest to Ellisar.
Esa followed suit. Imani let the silence hang heavy in the room as she stared back at the High Sentinel.
She had to tilt her head quite a bit, but she didn’t mind.
“How can I prove to you that I am the rightful heir to the Essenheim Kingdom?”
Ellisar sat back in his chair, still toying with his wand. “Now, that is the question, isn’t it?”
His eyes locked onto Imani’s, almost an exact match of the same blue, and she resisted the urge to point at her own head. “You can see the crown.”
“I can see what appears to be the Crown of Life,” Ellisar corrected.
“It’s fused to my skull.”
“A glamour can imitate roots growing through skin just as easily as it can imitate flowers, blood, or bone.” His attention moved briefly over the living branches woven through her hair.
“Tanyl is wearing a crown too, according to half the reports coming out of Stralas. If appearances could settle the matter, I would already have two queens and a king claiming divine legitimacy.”
Imani’s knuckles whitened around her wand. “Gavin saw what happened when one of his men cut it.”
Ellisar remained impassive. “Gavin is a low-ranking soldier who took it upon himself to hire mercenaries and hunt you down because he hoped finding you would improve his standing. Those men are not part of my army.”
“They watched five people die.”
“And if Gavin wants prestige badly enough, he has every reason to exaggerate what he saw. His mercenaries have every reason to support the man paying them.” Ellisar leaned back. “I am not deciding the succession of Essenheim because Gavin arrived at my gate with an impressive story.”
Imani hated that she understood the logic. “So, you trust no one.”
“Not with this.”
Imani let out a soft exhale. The crown itself was absolute proof of the monarch it chose.
The problem was proving that what everyone saw on Imani’s head was truly the crown.
Glamour could imitate even something that appeared physically fused to her body.
Only direct contact with the real crown—or power impossible for an impostor to reproduce—could settle the question.
“And if I can, will you ally with us against the impostor king?” she demanded, her voice ringing through the chamber.
“Hard to say. I need to know whether I can trust you.”
“Trust takes time.”
“Or one big sacrifice.”
“It seems the only way to prove the truth on demand is to have someone try to remove it from my head,” Imani stated resolutely.
“Ahh, but that would kill them if you’re telling the truth.”
Imani sighed. “It’s the only way without putting the rest of your people in danger.”
A long silence stretched through the room. “Is that a threat?” Ellisar asked quietly.
“It’s a fact,” Imani responded without moving her face.
He gave her a flat look. “Appearing in my house with something that looks like the crown proves exactly that. Tanyl can make the same display, and Gavin’s account does not turn appearance into proof.
” Ellisar sat up and set his wand on the table in front of him.
“What do you know about what you’re up against when it comes to Tanyl? ”
She shifted slightly in her seat. “I don’t know much. News doesn’t spread that quickly to a closed-off kingdom like Niflheim.”
“And I’ve heard rumors that you’re the new Niflheim king’s heartmate. He didn’t confide in you?”
“My heartmate doesn’t matter right now. Besides, it was a strategic alliance then and nothing more. I’m not one for sentimentality—you’ll find my pragmatism outweighs any feelings I have for the king,” she said, waving her hand dismissively.
“Ahh, what kind of pragmatism is it to show up here, uninvited, after being exiled and told not to return?”
This wasn’t going well.
“I was hoping you’d see reason and recognize the truth of what this is. An opportunity.”
“An opportunity for what?”
“A chance to improve things for the Norn people with a Norn queen wearing the crown.”
“Would you do that for people who kicked you out of your home as a child?”
Imani bowed her head toward Ellisar in respect. “I understood and accepted that decision a long time ago; it doesn’t mean I still don’t hold great affection for this place or the Norn people in general.” Her voice was quiet.
Ellisar hummed neutrally in response, as if agreeing.
Impatience rose within her. They didn’t have time for this verbal sparring. “So, what’s your decision, High Sentinel?” Imani used his title to keep things civil.
Ellisar swept his hand across the room. This is my counsel. We make most major decisions by vote, with my verdict as the final call.”
“How democratic of you,” Imani murmured, glancing around the room. It was quite crowded.
“All right. Since removing the crown is so dangerous, I will be the one to volunteer.”
Protests erupted around the room. “Your life is too important, Ellisar,” a woman near Imani said.
A sudden, sharp protest also rose in Imani. “I agree,” she interjected. “Your life shouldn’t be forfeit for this,” she said, shaking her head. “Because I am the true heir, you will die.”
“I’m aware.”
The simplicity of it made her sit straighter. “Then don’t do it,” she said, nearly sputtering.
His jaw ticked. When he answered, his tenor held no bravado.
“I have buried enough people because someone with authority decided another person’s life was an acceptable risk.
” Ellisar put his wand on the table and steepled his hands.
“I have sent soldiers into places I would have preferred to enter myself. I have watched leaders protect their own lives while ordering other people to gamble theirs. Sometimes there was no alternative.” A beat. “Sometimes there was.”
Imani couldn’t find the words to respond.
“If I am asking this council to believe the crown is worth testing, then I do not get to put that test into someone else’s hands simply because my life is considered more valuable.”
“But it is more valuable,” Imani argued.
His blue eyes held hers. “I am responsible for the risks I ask my people to take. That means there are moments when I take them first.”
Another man stepped in. “We have criminals in the dungeons who can volunteer.”
Ellisar shot him a hard look.
“Those criminals aren’t sentenced to die.
This is my decision, and I won’t entertain any discussion on the matter,” he announced with finality.
“Let’s put the larger decision to a vote, though.
” Everyone fell silent. Imani’s heart hammered at the way Ellisar commanded the room.
At the way he’d sacrifice his life for this test.
“Hands in the air if you believe the would-be queen’s story and would see us attempt to remove the crown to prove it true?”
About half the room raised their hands, and Imani did her best to hide her surprise.
Ellisar nodded once, as if he had expected it all along. “And who would see us turn an alleged fugitive over to King Tanyl?”
The remaining hands shot into the air. “Well, it seems we are at an impasse,” Ellisar said.
It would ultimately come down to his choice. Imani held her breath as she studied him.
He leaned back in his chair, staring at her with narrowed blue eyes as he thought. Finally, he stood, and the rest of the room followed suit.
“I’ll attempt to remove the crown tomorrow at dawn.”
Then he walked out of the room without another word, still casually twirling his wand. The heavy doors closed behind him with a final, definitive thud.