Chapter 24
The applause died unevenly, some hands stilling before others, and the ballroom’s energy turned inward. Conversations faltered mid-breath. Movement slowed, then stopped. One by one, eyes found the throne, wide and stunned, as if people were still processing a spectacle.
If she didn’t act now, the moment would slip again, as it had with Kiran, and with it, the power she had just taken.
She rose from the throne, her dress swishing around her feet, blood still splattered on the folds.
“Stand down,” she said to the remaining guards. They hesitated only a second before obeying.
“The ball will continue.” A faint smile touched her lips, easing the room’s tension.
Yet some nobles remained hesitant, their instincts and uncertainty warring, and they paused as they watched the unfolding power dynamics.
Then, gradually, the hesitation broke—a nobleman here, a courtier there—until the entire room had eventually reoriented itself around her.
Music resumed in cautious notes, building slowly as motion returned to the room, and with each step, each breath, each resumed conversation.
Imani let out a small, relieved sigh, and sat down. Her hand went to her chest, knowing Tanyl lingered inside her. His essence had dissolved into the power already moving through her, another current threaded through the crown, the Drasil, and the magic gathered beneath her skin.
Her stomach turned.
Across the floor, servants had begun cleaning what remained of him.
One knelt with a rag, wiping blood from the stone. The cloth came away red. Another swept gray dust into a shallow pan with short, efficient strokes. Any remnants of Tanyl’s reign disappeared between dancers’ shoes and servants’ hands with obscene speed.
She had been friends with him.
Tanyl hadn’t merely been a king to overthrow or an enemy occupying her throne. She had stood in rooms with him, lain in his bed, and laughed with him. At one point, she had fed from him.
Now his magic lived inside her, and servants were sweeping the rest away.
The sickness in her stomach worked itself up to her ribs.
Her eyes slid shut again. After months of running, bargaining, hiding, surviving Kiran, surviving Tanyl, she had become powerful enough that no man could decide what happened to her next.
Tanyl was dead, and Essenheim was hers.
There should have been some enormous feeling waiting for her on the other side of victory, but instead, she stared at the blood disappearing from the floor and wilted with exhaustion.
With her chest rising, she forced one slow breath into her lungs.
Then another.
Only when the servant rose with the bloodied cloth did she finally lift her chin.
Ellisar crossed the floor, the crowd parting naturally as he made his way to the dais. He took the seat beside the throne without looking to her first, exuding the easy claim of a man who had already decided the space was his.
Tingling broke out across her skin. Maybe it was the exhaustion… but she enjoyed being next to him.
Around them, the court recalibrated. Everyone knew the monarch’s mate belonged in that seat… and the chair had been empty for years. Murmurs passed between clusters of nobles in a loose, wandering wave. Women held fans to their faces, and men raised brows as they drank from their cups.
Keeping his voice hushed, Ellisar leaned in, ensuring his words remained private to the throne. “This doesn’t end here,” he said, eyes still on the room as if nothing had shifted between them. “What you’ve done tonight solves one problem, yet creates several more.”
She leaned closer, her lips almost grazing his ear. “I understand,” she responded softly, her eyes still scanning the room for Kiran, even though she knew he wouldn’t be there. “I’m ready.”
Imani brought Tanyl’s Drasil into view without preamble.
Ancient magic pulsed from it, making a shiver run up her spine.
She studied it—her wandlore brand burning at its power—before extending it toward Ellisar.
He took it without ceremony, and for a moment neither of them moved.
The wand sat in his palm, an object that had no simple explanation for existing.
Ellisar turned the Drasil in his hand, testing its heft. He said nothing, but his jaw set—the look of a man who had just confirmed a suspicion he hadn’t voiced yet.
It had taken Imani years to find her Drasil wand, and only a witch with a wandlore brand could calibrate it to a person’s specific magic.
Who exactly gave Tanyl this wand? And what did they do to make it work for him?
Powerful Deity breeds from the Upper had armed Tanyl with that wand, had chosen him as the hand to hold it—and had done so with intent that reached beyond anything he could have conceived on his own. She didn’t know who or why, but she would find them. And then she would deal with them.
But not today. Today, she had other problems.
Imani rose again, drawing the room’s attention like a tide pulling back before a wave, and waited until the silence had resolved into an expectant feeling.
“The High Sentinel of Norn elves and I are aligned to be mated,” she said. “Our people, our power, and our futures will move as one.”
The reaction swept through the ballroom in layers.
Conversations broke apart around them. A woman near the front lowered her glass without drinking, while two older nobles turned immediately toward one another, whispering behind raised hands. Others looked past Imani to Ellisar as if expecting him to contradict her.
He didn’t, spurring confusion and awe at once.
The elusive High Sentinel of the Norn elves, who rarely left the Draswood, had not merely supported Imani’s claim tonight.
A mating tied Vathis to whatever government emerged from Tanyl’s death far more tightly than military cooperation ever could.
Ellisar brought an established territory, a disciplined army, undisputed political authority, and a name the court already understood.
Imani had taken the throne by force, and now she was telling them that one of Essenheim’s strongest powers intended to stand beside her after the blood dried.
Some faces brightened, while others became harder to read.
A few nobles glanced toward the doors, perhaps already calculating what the announcement meant for their own territories, alliances, and ambitions.
Imani caught one elderly lord looking at the crown, then Ellisar, then back at her with the strained expression of a man realizing the balance of power had changed twice in a single evening.
The whispers multiplied.
Vathis.
The High Sentinel.
Mated.
Queen.
Then someone lifted a drink.
Another followed. Smiles appeared, and glasses clinked. A handful of nobles applauded again, this time in response to her, not just Tanyl’s destruction.
Imani let them with a short nod.
She understood what they saw… two powerful rulers, two armies, two Norn elves joined beneath one Crown of Life. To the court, the arrangement promised continuity after a night of violent upheaval. The conclusion made her throat constrict.
She pressed her fingers to the skin for a few seconds, wishing for one moment she could just simply be happy.
Ellisar turned toward her and gently cupped her cheek before taking her hand. “As she has said, we move forward as one,” he announced. His attention shifted to the watching court. “Vathis stands with its queen.”
Heart racing, Imani suppressed the need to lean into his touch.
He let go of her hand and eased back into his seat beside her, the transition smooth as his attention drifted back to the court… and what lay beyond.
When Imani glanced at the floor in front of the dais, all traces of Tanyl had been cleaned away, and she absently rubbed her chest where his essence remained.
Ellisar cleared his throat, then bent his head to her, his nose brushing her hair.
“You did what you had to do,” he whispered, as if reading her thoughts.
“Crowns mean little if the realm’s edges are bleeding, and Tanyl governed from the center, reinforcing what was stable and neglecting what was crumbling until it all fell apart.
” His eyes darted briefly to the distant parts of the hall, as if he could see beyond it.
“And while we’ve stopped them for now, the Lochheim clans are still desperate and intent on Essenheim. We have work to do.”
Imani sat back against the throne, needing to ease the tension in her shoulders. “Kiran is planning an attack as well. I used a Divination spell and heard him planning it with his First Witch,” she said, surprising herself with the honesty. “He’s gathering forces and marching on Essenheim. Soon.”
The High Sentinel’s brow furrowed. He leaned closer, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear. “And you trust this spell?”
“I trust what I know about Kiran,” she said under her breath, although the words came out more intimate than dark.
Ellisar showed no outward surprise, but his posture stiffened slightly. She wondered if he had already considered Kiran not only as a threat to the realm but also to their recent achievement… their mating.
“Then this situation has gone beyond the Essenheim territories.” He paused, then added, “We could be embroiled in a two-front war if we aren’t careful.”
Imani resisted the urge to fidget under his stare. “And here I thought you’d be pleased,” she muttered. “You have your alliance, another Drasil, and soon enough a queen for a mate. That is quite a lot of power for one evening.”
Ellisar shook his head. “You think that is what I want?”
She angled slightly toward him. “Isn’t it?”
“No.”
She scoffed, unable to believe him despite his quick denial.