Chapter 21
The sudden change in plans had left Imani’s palms slick. She wiped them against her dress.
“He’s moved everything around. The rooms, the patrol routes, the very rhythm of the palace, and it’s making us blind,” Imani whispered, her eyes tracking the corridor, sorting the faces ahead into weapons and obstacles.
Esa adjusted her apron, her mouth a tight line. “The old plan relied on the predictability of him getting ready in his rooms and being taken by surprise, which is clearly gone. What now?”
“He wants us moving through his shadows, reacting to his changes,” Imani mused, her gaze cutting to Esa before fixing forward again. “So, we stop reacting. We go straight to him.”
The words were out before she could pretend this was anything other than improvisation.
Ellisar had been explicit. Once they entered the palace, they followed the plan. No deviations, no unnecessary risks, no clever revisions invented because circumstances became inconvenient.
And their plan was dead. They had come to find Tanyl privately, separate him from the Drasil before he understood what was happening, and get him out of the palace before the court knew a transfer of power had begun.
Walking into the Yule Ball would destroy every advantage that strategy had given them.
Tanyl would see her coming. So would his guards, his allies, Kiran, and several hundred witnesses.
Worse, Ellisar and Lore were positioned for the contingency they had all hoped never to use.
If Imani triggered open violence inside the palace and lost control of the situation, the soldiers waiting beyond the immediate operation might have to move.
Their swift removal of one ruler could become the bloody coup they had spent three weeks trying to avoid.
Imani flexed her damp fingers. This alternative plan had not existed five minutes ago, and she was building it while standing inside the enemy’s palace. Many things could go wrong.
“What do you mean?” Esa hissed.
“We take the board,” Imani whispered as she straightened a floral arrangement to feign busywork.
“He’s hidden himself where we can’t predict him, but we can force his hand.
If he wants to keep that throne, he’ll have to answer to me when I walk into the Yule Ball.
He’ll be there by now anyway since we’ve lost so much time. ”
Esa’s eyes scanned the room as she weighed the risk. “Ellisar specifically told us not to improvise.”
“I remember,” Imani said.
“This is improvising.”
“Aggressively.”
The pixie looked like she wanted to smile, but then her mouth flattened again. “If you walk into that ballroom wearing the crown, there’s no returning to the original plan.”
Indeed. The moment the court saw her, secrecy ended.
If Tanyl attacked, every guard in the palace could descend on them before Ellisar could reposition.
If the nobles panicked, civilians would be trapped between armed factions.
If Ellisar interpreted the spectacle as the operation collapsing, he might have no choice but to call the soldiers forward.
“Then we make sure it works before anyone needs the army,” Imani said.
Esa tilted her head, a grim smile touching her lips. “You’re mad.”
“Probably.”
“But it might work.” A beat. “We’ll need gowns if we’re going to enter the ballroom without killing anyone.”
“I know.” Imani rubbed the sudden, tight knot at the base of her neck. The unknown was a physical weight, drawing her muscles taut, and she flexed her hands to shake it off. “Let’s go.”
They angled upward, first through the main atrium, then through the cramped, utilitarian service corridors, where they grabbed a few trays to make themselves look useful. Props in hand, they headed up to the sweeping passageways of the guest wing.
A Common-Bred palace guard with a wand strapped to his hip stopped them at the transition.
The sight of the wand made Imani’s eyes bulge.
Most witches worked for the Royal Order of Magic in an academic or political capacity, and despite the Ascension Assessments, the Order usually didn’t deal in petty security matters or violence.
He stood beside the carved archway where bare service stone gave way to polished marble, one hand resting near the wand at his hip. His brown eyes passed over their gray uniforms before returning to the empty trays. “Where are you assigned?”
Imani’s pulse jumped.
Esa answered first. “Guest rooms. Lady Carenth’s attendants sent for additional linens.”
The guard frowned. “Did she send for empty serving trays?”
Esa looked down at hers as though only then noticing it. “Kitchen sent us upstairs first to collect some items. Apparently no one in this palace knows where they actually want us tonight.”
He rolled his eyes, as if that explanation were painfully believable. A cluster of servants appeared behind them carrying folded tablecloths and boxes of glassware. Someone muttered impatiently when the line stopped.
The guard glanced from Esa to Imani.
Imani kept her head bowed. Her glamour hid the crown, silver hair, and every feature that might identify her, but it could do nothing about her magic signature.
He did not reach for his wand. “Go,” he said, stepping aside. “And don’t wander into the ballroom level unless you’re assigned there.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Esa muttered.
They passed beneath the arch without increasing their pace. Only after they turned the next corner did Imani breathe normally again.
There was no time to regroup, though.
After a moment against the wall, they kept moving, passing two occupied chambers before finding an unattended one. Voices came through the first door, and a lady’s maid emerged from the second, carrying an armful of fabric and nearly colliding with Esa.
At the next intersection, Imani waited while a pair of palace guards crossed toward the ballroom stairs. Once their footsteps faded, she tested another door.
Unlocked.
They slipped inside.
The room appeared to belong to a noblewoman who had already left for the festivities. Silk dresses spilled over a velvet chaise while a half-empty glass of wine sat beside a clutter of jeweled pins on the vanity.
“This should work,” Imani said, already stripping off her drab gray servant’s uniform, letting it pool on the floor, then moving to the wardrobe.
She skipped the display gowns and slid into a dress that was a bit too tight but still worked.
It was spun in pale tones and silver threads meant to catch the eye.
Perfect, she thought, smoothing the wrinkles away
At the mirror, she let her hair fall loose over her shoulders.
Her hand paused at the Crown of Life. The glamour was the only reason she had crossed half the palace without an alarm. Once she dropped it, every servant, guard, noble, and witch who knew her face could identify her.
Ellisar’s warning surfaced again.
No one improvises.
Too late.
Imani waved her wand and released the illusion. The branches settled against her brow with a familiar, vibrating weight, their shining gold leaves catching the dim light. It pulsed with a faint, thrumming life, raw power.
When she met her own eyes in the glass, the servant was gone.
Beside her, Esa had been just as efficient. She’d picked a dark emerald dress that flowed around her ankles like water.
After a brief once-over, they both exchanged a single nod and left, letting the door close behind them with a soft click.
The walk to the ballroom felt endless in unfamiliar heels and heavy fabric.
Security thickened with every corridor closer to the ballroom.
Palace guards now stood at major intersections, and attendants checked invitations at two approaches feeding into the celebration.
Imani and Esa avoided the first by taking a narrower gallery used by noble households moving between private rooms and the ballroom floor.
At the second, there was nowhere to turn without looking suspicious.
A guard stepped forward. “Names?”
Imani ignored him and sailed by, head held high.
His tone hardened. “My lady.”
She stopped several feet away and turned just enough for the crown to catch the chandelier light.
The guard’s expression emptied as recognition took hold. His hand moved toward his wand, and Esa sucked in a soft gasp beside her.
“I wouldn’t,” Imani murmured.
Wide-eyed, the guard looked past them toward the crowded ballroom entrance, apparently calculating how quickly any confrontation here would become public.
Bewildered, he stepped aside.
Imani continued forward before he could reconsider. As they moved, she noted the lack of guests milling around, and those that did paid them no mind, lost in their own business or boisterous conversations. The Yule Ball had to be underway then.
When they reached the towering double doors, Imani stopped. The Yule Ball spilled its music and laughter through the crack in the wood, a wash of careless, distant joy.
Her stomach twisted as a spike of adrenaline threatened to double her over. She forced a measured breath, locking the fear down. Timing was everything. Imani wanted Tanyl relaxed before she pulled everything out from under him.
They paused in the widened alcove just outside, sticking to the shadows while the night built to its crescendo.
Imani stood still as stone, tracking the party’s rhythm rather than rushing it.
She let the room fill, let the noise swell into a deafening tide of celebration, waiting until every guest was seated or dancing.
Then she stepped forward alone to inform the herald whom to announce. Esa hung back, holding her position in the periphery—present, lethal, but ceding the center stage.
“My name is Imani Aowyn, and I’m the true monarch of Essenheim,” she declared.
The man froze where he stood, hands hovering over his notes, his attention flicking between her and the room as if waiting for someone else to intervene.
“I—” he started, voice catching. “That is not—there is an order—”