Chapter 9
Esa and Imani didn’t speak on the way back to their rooms.
The thought of Ellisar dying at Imani’s feet made her feel queasy.
His arrogance grated, but he was a good High Sentinel—a great one.
He didn’t hoard his power or lord it over the people like some did.
Ellisar didn’t make rash decisions without consulting others.
And he would certainly give his life to protect the Norn elves.
It was as if she were back in the Ascension Assessments, watching her brethren die for no reason.
But what other way was there? Imani had to think of something before tomorrow morning, and she’d stay up all night to do it.
She just couldn’t let anyone else die for her, especially the High Sentinel.
She thought she could, but now that the decision had been made, it was as if her body were physically rejecting it, splitting in two.
Imani rubbed her constricted chest. The sensation pressed deeper, tightening with every step, as if her own magic resisted the path laid out for her.
An insistent rejection settled into her bones and wouldn’t let go.
Letting Ellisar die wasn’t strategy. It wasn’t sacrifice.
It was something else entirely, something her body refused to accept as necessary.
The more she tried to force herself to accept it, the worse it became, like forcing breath into lungs that wouldn’t open.
As they turned the next corner, Esa caught Imani lightly by the arm and slowed her.
Ellisar stood farther down the corridor with an elderly servant beside him.
The woman was small and bent with age, her gray hair pinned neatly at the nape of her neck.
She held a folded stack of linens against a hip while Ellisar listened with his head inclined, all his usual severity gone from his face.
So absorbed in their conversation, neither had noticed the two women walking by.
“You missed luncheon again,” the servant scolded.
“I was occupied.”
“You are always occupied.”
A weariness wrinkled his forehead. “I ate this morning.”
“That was hours ago.”
Ellisar sighed, but there was no irritation. “Fine. I’ll eat.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“And yet I survived.”
The old woman gave him a look that would have withered a lesser man.
Ellisar twisted his wand in his hand. “Yes, yes, I’ll eat.”
“Before the evening council.”
“Yes.”
Satisfied, she patted his arm once and continued down the corridor. Ellisar watched until she disappeared around the corner, then turned away in the opposite direction without ever seeing Imani or Esa.
The ache in Imani’s chest intensified.
Esa glanced at her and looked about ready to speak but then shut her mouth.
Imani looked away first and kept walking, and with a sigh, Esa followed.
They arrived at the ornate doors to both their rooms. A recessed alcove sat between two tall windows, furnished with a narrow upholstered bench meant for people waiting on audiences or servants carrying messages. Esa walked toward it without asking and sat.
Imani remained standing.
Esa motioned to the cushion. “Sit.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You’re rubbing a hole through your chest.”
Ripping the hand she had unconsciously pressed to her sternum, she flexed it a few times.
“I’m thinking.”
“Looks like you’re panicking.”
“I do not panic.”
The pixie’s violet eyes traveled over her. “Of course not.”
Imani glared, then dropped onto the bench with considerably more force than necessary.
She pinched the bridge of her nose as the estate continued around them.
Servants moved through distant corridors.
A door opened and closed somewhere below.
Normal life carried on despite the fact that by tomorrow morning she might kill the man responsible for protecting it all.
Her stomach twisted again. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered.
“I came here because I needed Ellisar. I needed his army, his authority, his influence over the Norn.” Imani picked at a loose thread on her sleeve.
“Proving who I am requires a sacrifice, and I knew that before I walked through his doors.”
Esa leaned back against the wall but didn’t argue.
“And if he dies,” Imani continued, “Vathis loses its High Sentinel in the middle of a political crisis. The Norn lose a powerful commander. Any alliance I might gain collapses before it begins. There are a dozen practical reasons I cannot let him touch the crown.”
“Of course.”
Imani narrowed her eyes. “You’re being irritating.”
“I learned from you.”
They sat in silence for several seconds.
Glancing down the corridor where Ellisar had disappeared, Imani tried to think logically about the issue at hand.
The problem was that the Crown of Life was deadly. No matter how Imani spun it, someone always ended up dead, even though she was only trying to prove it was real.
And that truth sat heavier than the branches around her head. The crown demanded outcomes. It chose, and everything else bowed to that choice, no matter the cost. There was no easy path forward, no version of this in which she walked away without blood on her hands.
Her hands fisted, still seeing Ellisar letting an elderly servant scold him for missing a meal without an audience. No soldiers to impress or council watching to see what kind of leader he was. Just a tired man promising an old woman he would eat dinner.
“I liked it better when I thought he was an arrogant ass,” she mumbled, sitting back against the wall with Esa.
The pixie chuckled under her breath. “Ah, yes, and therein lies the actual problem.”
“The actual problem is that tomorrow he could die,” Imani snapped.
“And you care.”
“I care whether a good High Sentinel dies unnecessarily. Who knows who will take his place?”
“Yes.”
“I care whether the Norn lose someone competent.”
“Yes.”
“I care whether his death destroys my chances of reclaiming Essenheim.”
“Yes.”
Imani scowled. “Stop agreeing with me like that.”
Esa folded her hands in her lap. “Would you prefer I disagree?”
“I would prefer you stop looking pleased.”
“I’m not pleased. I’m fascinated.”
“Why?”
“Because yesterday you would have called his death an acceptable cost if it got you what you needed.”
The words made Imani’s head reel back. She opened her mouth, ready to deny it, but she couldn’t.
When she had arrived in Vathis, Ellisar had been a piece on the board. A dangerous yet also attractive one, unfortunately. But still a piece she could maneuver if she understood him well enough.
Now she knew he listened to his council instead of ruling over it.
He would not send prisoners to die in his place.
He would risk himself before asking another person to bear a danger he would not.
And apparently elderly servants could order him to eat.
Every new fact made using him more inconvenient.
“I barely know him,” she said.
“You don’t have to know someone well to decide you don’t want them dead. You might be ruthless, but you’re not without a conscience, Imani.”
“This is precisely why sentiment is useless.” Imani scraped both hands over her face. “If I let him do this, he dies because of me.”
A sobering expression crossed Esa’s countenance. “Yes.”
The ache in Imani’s chest pulsed.
“And if I refuse the test,” she added, “his council may never believe me. Tanyl keeps the throne. Kiran keeps searching. The Norn stay divided.” Imani pressed her palms together, thinking through the possibilities again. “Every path still costs someone.”
“Then find another path.”
“Such pretty words,” Imani scoffed.
Esa shrugged. “You’ve escaped executions, survived Kiran, crossed realms, and somehow made a forest eat men for you. Surely you can devise one convincing demonstration that does not require killing Ellisar.”
A frustrated breath left Imani. “That is not helpful.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be. It was supposed to annoy you into solving it.”
Imani let her head fall into her hands. Esa was right that there had to be another solution. “I need to think,” she said into her palm.
Esa rose. “Good.”
“I mean actually think,” Imani said, raising her head.
“I know.”
“I’m not sleeping.”
“I assumed as much.”
At that, Imani pushed herself up, already reaching mentally through every form of magic she had mastered.
“Imani.” Esa caught her wrist before she could turn away. “Don’t let him die merely because the obvious proof is easier.”
A lump in her throat threatened to choke her. Imani gently pulled her hand free. “I won’t,” she said, nodding.
They parted ways and headed into their rooms. Imani waved her wand, making the door close behind her with a soft click.
Resting was out of the question. Pacing. That was all Imani could do.
After an hour, she’d worn a groove in the carpet.
Her thoughts circled relentlessly, refusing to settle long enough for anything useful to take shape.
Every idea fractured before it could form, collapsing under the same unavoidable truth—someone would die.
The question was no longer how to avoid it. It was how to choose.
The thought was a poison in her chest, spreading slowly, making it harder to breathe and harder to think.
Her shadows danced frantically across the walls as the fire flickered in and out with her distress.
Imani stopped. Her eyes followed the shadows. Could she use them to prove she was the true heir? Would it be enough for the shadows to move her from one side of the room to the other?
That was all she intended. A few yards. From the fireplace to the windows and back again.
She had only learned to shadow-travel a few months ago, when Zadie taught her in Niflheim, and Imani still didn’t trust herself with long distances unless she had no other choice.
Crossing a bedroom should have been enough to buy time to think of another solution.
And right now, time was the only thing she needed.