Chapter 14
For the first time in years, Imani stood in a room filled almost entirely with her own people. She wanted to know if Vathis could feel familiar before she worried about whether it would ever call her queen.
Unfortunately, she had forgotten how to enter a room without studying it.
Her gaze swept around, curious at first, then calculating.
Nobles clustered near the center while generals and advisors held the periphery in tighter groups.
Barked laughter rose from one corner, music from another, and conversations formed and dissolved around people who seemed to understand the Norn cultural rules Imani had once known instinctively.
Some conversations were plainly political. Others were nothing more than friends laughing too loudly over wine, soldiers finding people they had feared they might never see again, and families crowding together after the battle. Imani found herself watching those moments longer than she intended.
She also watched who gravitated toward whom, who was welcomed without question, and who hovered at the edges waiting for an invitation.
Every interaction carried a double meaning, and she could already see the invisible lines pulling them all together.
And all those lines converged on Ellisar. He stood near her on the dais as if the room’s architecture had been designed to showcase his broad frame. Every few moments, her eyes found him as he charmed and rubbed elbows with the elven elite. The mask never slipped either.
Lantern light caught the silver of his short hair, while his piercing blue eyes moved constantly, absorbing everything and lingering on nothing. The sharp line of his jaw, darkened by beard shadow, underscored the severity of his expression.
Earlier that evening, word had reached her that the Lochheim families had been given temporary quarters near the southern barracks. The surrendered soldiers remained under guard.
Ellisar had carried out her order exactly as she had given it. Satisfaction bloomed in her gut, but she ignored it as the party continued.
The entire time, he stayed close enough that she could sense his grounded presence at the edge of her awareness.
Though he never acknowledged her, she felt the solidity of his stance and the space he effortlessly filled.
While she didn’t appreciate being managed, her curiosity grew alongside the tension.
Interestingly, he made no attempt to introduce her to anyone. He could have walked her through the ballroom, naming generals, nobles, and advisors until she knew every useful person in Vathis, yet doing so would have made her look like someone entering his world under his supervision.
Is the distance between us my choice, she wondered, or is it his?
It didn’t take long for the room’s pressure to close in. One by one, attendees drifted closer, including nobles with practiced ease and advisors angling for a moment of access, eager to pull her into their orbit.
Before any could stake a claim, Ellisar adjusted.
A subtle repositioning of his shoulders, a word spoken just loudly enough to redirect a general’s attention. He never raised his voice or made a spectacle, yet the effect was absolute. Paths closed. Conversations diverted.
He was maneuvering her without ever declaring it. She recognized the pattern from the battlefield and the climb, a careful filtering of who was allowed near her.
Her value had changed radically in just a day. She’d gone from prisoner to a queen others competed for. What looked like protection from one angle felt dangerously close to possession from another.
A nobleman approached with the easy confidence of one accustomed to getting his way. He offered a practiced bow and extended a hand. “May I—”
Ellisar stepped in before the question could land.
“She’s spoken for,” he said, his low voice carrying enough finality to end the exchange. His tone held no apology, and he didn’t glance to confirm Imani’s agreement. Only the certainty of a decision already made.
The nobleman withdrew, turning and scurrying back into the crowd.
Imani reeled on Ellisar. “Do not do that again.”
His head cocked. “Do what?”
“Decide who is allowed to approach me.” She kept her voice low enough that the confrontation remained theirs despite the curious faces surrounding them.
“You’ve been doing it all evening. Redirecting people.
Closing off conversations. Deciding who gets close enough to speak to me.
” Her attention flicked toward the nobleman before returning to Ellisar.
“And now apparently answering invitations on my behalf.”
Ellisar clenched his jaw.
His lack of response made her shift her feet. Kiran would have found ten different ways to explain why his control was really for her benefit.
Dragging a hand through his shock of silver hair, Ellisar sighed. “You’re right.”
Her mouth fell open.
“I overstepped,” he added. “I was protecting you when you did not ask me to.”
“You were,” she said cautiously.
A nobleman approached Imani, his broad Norn shoulders filling out his military uniform. He bowed slightly and gave her a charming smile. “May I have this dance, Your Majesty?”
Imani considered him. “No.”
The man flushed. “Of course.”
He bowed again and retreated into the crowd. When he disappeared, Imani leveled a glare at Ellisar’s faint smile.
“What?” she demanded.
“Nothing,” Ellisar said, palms up.
“You look pleased with yourself.”
“I’m pleased with you.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “That sounds dangerously close to condescension.”
“It wasn’t intended that way.” He brushed his tousled hair back from his brow. “You wanted the decision. You made it.”
Irritation warred with admiration inside her. “So that’s it?”
Ellisar shrugged. “What else would there be?”
“You were rather committed to deciding for me thirty seconds ago.”
“And you told me I was wrong.”
Huffing, Imani folded her arms.
He exhaled through his nose and darted a glance around the ballroom. “Do not misunderstand me. If someone comes near you with a blade, poison, hostile magic, or anything else I consider a credible threat, I will intervene before asking whether you approve.”
Humming, she pressed her lips together in a thin line and let him continue.
“That responsibility ends with credible threats.” He nodded to a couple that passed by. “Conversation, dancing, and your social access belong to you.”
Imani toyed with her necklace, nerves making her fidget. She had spent so long around powerful men who treated every boundary as the start of a negotiation that she almost didn’t know what to do with one who simply acknowledged it.
“So you’ll argue with me,” she said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.
“Frequently, I suspect.”
“But you’ll listen.”
“Only when you’re right.”
Her mouth fell open a little. “Only when I’m right?”
“I said I would respect your decisions. I still reserve the right to tell you when they’re terrible.”
Amusement shone in his eyes, though his expression was deadly serious.
“You’re laughing at me,” she shot back.
“I am doing no such thing.”
“You have a very specific face when you’re trying not to.”
“We’ve known each other for less than a week.”
“And already I know your weaknesses.”
His mouth pressed harder into a straight line.
Imani smiled, pointing at him. “There. That’s it.”
He threw his hands up and made an exasperated face.
A laugh nearly escaped her before she caught it. Then he looked toward the dance floor as the musicians began the next piece and extended his hand.
“Would you like to dance with me, Imani?”
“Yes.” Her voice sounded more breathless than she intended as she placed her fingers in his.
The music swelled, the tempo slowing into a rhythm that demanded more than a simple dance.
The circle around them opened as they moved forward together.
She closed the distance without hesitation, stepping into alignment with him as the first turn set them in motion.
His hand found her back, resting against her spine only after she stepped willingly into his reach.
Her fingers rested on his shoulder, feeling the steady line of his body beneath the fine fabric of his coat.
He didn’t look at her at first, continuing to scan the room—who watched and who pretended to look away. His focus stretched far beyond the space they occupied, which should have made him feel distant, yet it only heightened her awareness.
Imani let the movement carry them through a sweeping turn, matching his pace and yielding only to the rhythm. The contact between them remained minimal, enough to track the deep steadiness of his breathing and feel how carefully he restrained every fraction of closeness.
It irritated her.
It intrigued her even more.
“Now that you’ve seen what I can do,” she said, her voice pitched low enough to remain trapped between them, “will you support me against Tanyl?”
Ellisar didn’t miss a step. “Power changes the problem,” he replied, his tone unchanged by their sudden intimacy. “There are more factors at play than what you proved out there.”
Her jaw clenched, and only the graceful demands of the dance kept her from snapping outward. “I just closed a slip in front of your entire fleet. If that’s not enough for you, then say it plainly—what, exactly, is it?”
The question brought his full attention to her.
“What you did altered the entire field.” The music drew them flush against each other for a fleeting second, then carried them apart. “Before today, you were a claim I could evaluate. Now you’re a force every power in this realm will move around—or against.”
A beat of silence hung between the notes of the music.
“You made yourself impossible to ignore.”
The words made her reel back, and her lip curled in distaste as he hinted at a secret he alone knew.
The next turn brought them close again. Her hand clamped onto his shoulder. “So, what does it take?” she demanded.
This time, he didn’t delay. “The Drasil.”
Both words cut through the music. Imani stilled within, even as her feet kept moving in time with the steps.