Chapter 19 #3
His forces changed Galwell’s atmosphere from raucous to tense.
Where the Sprite territory flowed with organic ease, the Norn soldiers brought cold, unforgiving order.
Barked commands sliced through the air, followed by the unified, rhythmic thud of booted feet.
They drilled in tight, precise sequences, pivoting and striking as a single, breathing entity.
They needed both to survive her taking back the seat of power.
Ellisar had entered Galwell under the cover of nightfall, interrupting a lively dinner and charging the atmosphere with his focused presence.
His eyes had drifted past Esa and Lore with a quick nod, then narrowed in on Imani.
He paused slightly longer than necessary, searching her face as if checking, detail by detail, to ensure she was safe.
The moment was brief, yet a deep warmth bloomed afterward before he finally looked away and returned to the rest of the room.
Later, they gathered around a sprawling, weathered map of Essenheim tacked to Gorrum’s wall.
As they reviewed the infiltration routes, Imani noticed Ellisar’s previous hovering and overbearing protectiveness had been replaced by a private, magnetic awareness of her.
He subtly shifted his stance to keep her in his periphery, his focus sharpening like a blade whenever she spoke.
Heat bloomed in her chest as he kept doing it.
“The Yule Ball is seven days from tonight,” Ellisar said as they stepped out into the crisp air. “We leave Galwell with enough time to reach Stralas and establish ourselves before the palace fills with guests. The ball is our opening. No delays.”
On any ordinary night, strangers moving through Tanyl’s palace would draw immediate attention.
During the Yule Ball, nobles, attendants, guards, musicians, servants, and visiting delegations would flood Stralas.
The same crowd that complicated their escape would give them their best chance of getting close to Tanyl without announcing an attack.
The plan depended on keeping the palace operation small for as long as possible.
Imani would go in after Tanyl’s Drasil herself.
She already carried one Drasil and understood better than anyone else in the alliance what it meant to stand against that kind of power.
Esa would remain at her side as her First Witch and backup, bringing enough magic to intervene if the confrontation turned against her.
Ellisar and Lore had a different responsibility. Their soldiers would remain outside the immediate operation unless everything else failed. If Imani and Esa could take the Drasil and remove Tanyl without turning Stralas into a battlefield, the armies would never need to enter the palace in force.
That was the outcome they all wanted.
A full military assault remained their final contingency.
Ellisar would command the Norn forces, Lore the Sprites, and together they would move only if Imani failed to secure Tanyl quietly or if the palace erupted before she could get out.
A violent coup could still put the throne within reach, but it would leave soldiers, servants, courtiers, and civilians caught between competing armies.
Stralas itself would pay for every room they took by force.
Imani had no intention of letting it get that far.
Timing mattered because the less destructive plan disappeared the moment the armies moved.
The Yule Ball gave Imani and Esa one crowded night to get inside, find Tanyl, separate him from the Drasil, and force the transfer of power before anyone understood what was happening.
Ellisar and Lore would hold their forces ready long enough to give them that chance.
If Imani failed, the coup would begin.
He met each of their eyes, his expression stony. “We get inside, separate Tanyl from the Drasil, and get out. Once we move, no one improvises.” His stern look fell on Imani last. “From here on, the net tightens. There is zero margin for error once we begin.”
A flash of movement on the horizon beyond the window caught Imani’s eye. She and Esa strode toward the glass, intent on getting a closer look.
Along the outer edge of the territory, a caravan cut across the plains in a tight, heavily guarded formation. The wind whipped their banners upward, revealing dark, unmistakable crests.
Imani didn’t need to look closer. She recognized them immediately.
Kiran’s men.
“They’re heading for Stralas,” Gorrum rumbled, tracking the caravan’s dust trail.
Esa’s expression hardened. “For the Yule Ball.”
Imani stood frozen, her eyes searching the distant line for a glimpse of the king himself.
He would return here for only one reason.
Indeed, she had heard enough in her eavesdropping on Zadie and Kiran to grasp the bloody shape of it.
Yet her mouth tightened into a thin line as the secret sat heavy in her chest, threading through the very operation they had just finalized.
She could speak up now and halt everything, or remain silent, forging her knowledge into a weapon to wield when it mattered most. For now, she swallowed the truth that Kiran was marching toward the very same night for her.