Chapter 22 #2
Imani dragged herself to her feet just as Tanyl attacked. She dodged instead of blocking, throwing herself sideways as his Upper magic ripped through the column behind her. Stone exploded across the ballroom.
“You know what I find interesting?” she asked as another strike forced her behind a heavy table.
“I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do.”
His light magic obliterated the table, and Imani rolled clear as broken wood crashed around her. “Everything you’ve done,” she continued, breathing hard, “and somehow you still need everyone to tell you that you matter.”
“Shut up, Imani. It’s over.”
The response came too quickly.
She smiled. Meeting force with force only fed him opportunities to burn through her magic. But she didn’t need brute force magic to beat Tanyl.
“Did your mother know?” Imani needled.
Tanyl froze. “Know what?”
“That your father was Upper.”
“Of course she knew.”
“Did she tell you that made you special?”
His jaw clenched. Imani stepped forward despite the pain radiating down her shoulder. “Or did she tell you it still wasn’t enough?”
“Stop talking.”
The Upper magic surged, and Imani ducked to the side before the spell formed completely. A blast tore past her ribs and scorched the floor.
“She did, didn’t she? She spent your entire life telling you what you lacked.”
“Shut your mouth.”
“Not powerful enough,” Imani taunted.
Light burst outward, and she ducked again just in time. “Not clever enough,” she cooed.
Another strike hit the table, but this time she sent shadows wide instead of directly at him, spreading them around the room so his attention couldn’t follow every strand at once. “Not worthy enough.”
“Enough!”
A scream tore out of him as more Upper magic erupted from his wand. The magic flared around his body, brilliant enough to bleach the ballroom of color, but the edges broke apart, revealing tiny weaknesses.
And her shadows found the cracks. Thin strands of darkness slipped through the unstable points and buried themselves inside the white-gold magic before Tanyl understood.
“What—”
Imani smiled. “Your mother was right about one thing.”
His breathing turned ragged, and she pushed the shadows deeper.
“You were never good enough to be king.”
Tanyl roared, then light exploded in the ballroom. Still, her darkness spread through the fractures.
Tanyl tried to force more power through the Drasil, and the competing magics reacted violently.
White-gold magic surged outward while black shadow crawled inward, each fighting for space along his arm.
His hand shook, the tremor traveling into his forearm.
Sweat ran down his face, and his next breath hitched.
He had spent too much power too quickly.
Imani advanced, and her shadows forced him back. He stumbled. “You wanted everyone to believe you were chosen.”
Her shadows penetrated farther. “They chose your blood.”
She took another step closer and raised her wand. “Not you.”
Tanyl’s face contorted. His Drasil jerked violently in his grip.
Imani stopped directly in front of him. “They knew you were weak… and they exploited it.”
Tanyl dragged in a broken breath and swung at her anyway. Exhaustion had shortened the movement, rage pulling the Drasil ahead of the rest of his body.
And it was the opening. Imani stepped inside his attack. Her injured shoulder screamed as she caught his wrist, but she refused to release him. Tanyl tried to pull free, but she drove the Drasil upward beneath his arm.
Power detonated between them. His weakened magic tried to answer, but her shadows were already inside it, expanding.
Darkness burst through the failing white-gold field and wrapped around Tanyl’s arm, chest, throat, and legs.
His light flared once more, burning away several strands, but the shadows still found the gaps in his spell.
Imani twisted his wrist until his Drasil pointed uselessly toward the ceiling. “You could have been my ally,” she said through heavy breaths. “You didn’t have to make yourself my enemy.”
Genuine regret rose beneath the adrenaline.
She remembered the version of Tanyl who had once made her laugh, who had known exactly how to tease her without provoking a real fight, who had once seemed like someone she might trust. For one ugly heartbeat, she wanted that man back.
Then she looked at what he had chosen to become.
“You don’t understand what they’ll do to you,” he said, voice frantic.
Imani paused with her wand raised. “The Upper?”
His lips parted, but he didn’t reply.
“Why did they give you the Drasil?” she demanded.
Tanyl struggled against her darkness. “They didn’t give me anything.”
His magic sputtered around his fingers.
“They came to you because of your father.”
Silence.
“And you agreed to something.”
“Stop.”
“What did you promise them?”
“I-I…” he trailed off, and the panic told her more than the answer would have. Whatever bargain had placed the Drasil in his hand, Tanyl feared it. Imani filed that knowledge away.
Tanyl tried one final burst of light magic, but the spell barely formed before her shadows swallowed it.
Imani released his wrist and lifted the Drasil, commanding her shadows forward.
Darkness hit him from every direction, and he lifted off the floor.
Then, the force drove him backward across the ballroom until his body slammed into the wall hard enough to shake the sconces.
Air tore from his lungs, and her shadows followed.
They bound his arms, pinned his shoulders, wrapped around his waist, and dragged him downward.
His knees struck stone.
Tanyl gasped, and it echoed across the silent ballroom. Imani darted a glance around at the open-mouthed nobles. No one rushed to help him. She had defeated him in front of the people whose obedience had made him king, and now they were choosing not to save him.
The light that had filled the room seconds earlier had disappeared, leaving a pale Tanyl panting in the stark dimness.
Imani approached carefully. Her shoulder bled. Her skull throbbed. Every breath pulled against bruised ribs, and using the Drasil again sent pain through her hand and forearm.
Good.
Let them see it. Let them understand she hadn’t won because victory had been handed to her. She had been surprised and overpowered, yes, but she had adapted.
Maybe she was too arrogant, but that was better than being weak.
No one would ever control her again.
Tanyl remained pinned to the floor, stripped of his false crown, authority, and pride. Imani stopped before him and pointed the Drasil at his forehead.
“You spent your entire reign trying to prove you were enough,” she said.
His breathing stuttered as he stared up at her wicked grin.
“You should have stopped asking everyone else to believe it.”