Chapter 32 #2
The storm helped. Rain hammered the canvas hard enough to swallow ordinary conversation from outside, but Imani trusted the wards more than the weather. Nothing about Saevel, Meira’s bond, or their real purpose in Niflheim would be spoken without protection.
“Let’s review it again,” Imani said. Her voice was low, cutting cleanly through the wind’s howl outside. “We arrive under invitation. We play exactly the part he expects.”
Lore leaned over the map, water dripping from his chin, with his blue hair plastered to his face. “We attend the parley, keep our hands off our hilts, and don’t give him an excuse to throw us out before we learn anything.”
“Correct,” Imani said. “We listen more than we speak. Watch who stands with him, who cowers, and figure out what he isn’t saying.”
Esa’s eyes drifted up from the parchment, her wet wings drooping. “And Saevel?”
“We find him before Kiran suspects anything,” Imani answered. “That is the only thing that matters beyond that meeting.”
“Assuming he doesn’t already suspect,” Lore muttered.
“He doesn’t.”
A heavy silence descended, thick enough to drown out the storm. Esa tilted her head. “You’re certain.”
“Yes,” Imani said, although she wasn’t certain at all.
Lore frowned, the lines deepening around his eyes. He pressed his fingers to his temples as another thunderclap boomed. “You’re building this entire operation on a timetable we don’t control.”
“No,” Imani said, finally looking up to meet his stare. “We control what we can. The rest hinges on Kiran and Saevel.”
“And Kiran follows nothing predictable,” Lore pressed.
Imani didn’t blink. “No. He doesn’t.”
Esa crossed her arms, shivering slightly in her damp clothes. “Then we’re not just planning around the parley. We’re planning around the moment he snaps.”
“Exactly.”
Lore glanced toward the tent flap as the warning ward remained dark and undisturbed, while wind screamed against the canvas beyond it. “And if we’re wrong?”
Her voice was a quiet death knell. “Then we adjust.”
From the tent’s shadows, Meira spoke up. “Where do you want me?”
“You stay close,” Imani said, her eyes dropping back to the map. “You speak when I tell you to, and not a second before.”
Meira clenched her hand around the folds of her dress. “And if I see something you don’t?”
“Then you remember why you are here,” Imani replied, looking up to pin the younger woman with a glacial stare. “And you wait.”
A tense beat passed. “You’re not even going to tell me what you expect from me?” Meira challenged.
“I already did,” Imani said, brow arched. “You are not here to outthink me. You are here to be used when it matters.”
Meira gave a curt nod. “Understood.”
Imani looked back at the map. “Good.”
* * *
The day of the parley broke with blustering winds. Snow dusted the all-black cliffs of Kehomel and the farthest edge of the Niflheim Kingdom.
The storm continued to batter the mountains as they started their last leg to the capital city.
The path became narrower and uneven, requiring careful footing.
Their ascent quickened, and each step grew harder.
As they climbed higher, wind patterns shifted unpredictably, and visibility warped, making the surroundings feel distorted.
She heard the beast before she saw it. With her chin lifted to the sky, Imani held her hands at her brow to block out the rain as a massive shadow moved overhead, cutting through the storm with powerful movements that did not falter despite the wind.
Kiran.
The black glittering dragon held its course from afar, its silhouette clear despite the difficult visibility.
Its massive presence drew their attention effortlessly, tearing through the clouds, as if the storm were intentionally parting for him.
It reminded her of flying on the wyvern all those months ago, heading toward the slip to the Under.
Lore’s head shot up first as he followed the shadow above. “That’s him,” he muttered.
Esa shielded her eyes from the snow. “Is the parley off?”
Imani didn’t look up. “No,” she said, her voice grim against the wind. “He’ll be there.”
The dragon disappeared into the clouds, leaving her chest tight with the physical bond she couldn’t ignore.
Imani closed her eyes and focused on the sensation of movement, height, and freedom Kiran was feeling.
The idea of being with him, above everything, beyond expectations, and outside the burden of past decisions, was irresistibly tempting.
Visualizing them together in the sky created a strong, tangible pull.
The fantasy shattered against the reality she refused to forget—what he had done, what he kept creating, and what his presence required of her in return.
The pull persisted, but it no longer held power over her.
She recognized it completely, without denial, then set it behind her for something harder.
He deserved what was coming.
She shook her head in a single, rigid motion to dispel her dreamlike thoughts and pushed her feet forward through the squelching mud.
They pressed on with purpose, climbing steadily toward Kehomel as the storm raged and the trail narrowed. Silence filled the air as the mountain city loomed closer, an inevitable encounter drawing nearer, whether they felt ready or not.