Essence of the Throne (Shadows of the Crown #2)

8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Ariella

M y feet pause at Isaiah's door when a feminine voice filters through, and I press my ear against the wood to make out the words.

“I just can’t believe the prince is here! Would you like a tour? I could show you our classrooms, training room, where the other bedrooms are…” Isolde. That bitch. She emphasizes the last two words in what I’m sure she believes to be a sultry voice.

I have the sudden urge to rush out of the room and drive my blade into her pathetic ass until she’s bleeding out at Caspian’s feet.

But I wait, curious of what the prince will respond with.

“That is kind of you, but I must decline—” He halts mid sentence, silently requesting her name.

“Oh! Angel, I’m over here babbling and didn’t even have the manners to introduce myself. My name is Isolde.”

“Then, I must decline, Isolde. I’ve already been given a tour.” I chew on my bottom lip, quite pleased with the royal mask he’s donned for this interaction.

“Oh, okay.” She sounds disappointed—good. “Why are you out here, anyway? This room is no longer occupied since the student died. A waste, really, but that’s all Ariella leaves in her path: blood and death. Honestly, I have no idea how he was her friend for so many years. I’ve always said he was coerced into keeping her company since she’s never had anyone else. Oh, sorry, you would know her as the Silver Wraith. Stay away if you ever see her. She will just ruin your life. She deserved what happened to Isaia—”

I throw the door open so hard it cracks, and before she can even blink, my hand is around her throat, pulling her back just to slam her body against the wall. There’s a satisfying snap of bone, where I’m sure I fractured her skull. She attempts to scream, but my fingers trap the air in her lungs.

It’s difficult to keep the smirk from my face when sweet blood begins dripping from her nose and right ear. Her head must be bleeding as well, but her unwashed, frizzy hair will soak that up first.

My next words are laced with so much venom it shocks even me. “I should kill you just for daring to speak Isaiah’s name.” Her eyes flick to Caspian, a desperate plea shining through them. “The prince won’t save you. Actually, look in his direction again and I will rip your throat out with my teeth and fuck him in your blood. I don’t fucking care about Marek’s rules—your right to stay alive is no longer anyone’s decision but mine. Do. You. Understand?”

A tear falls from her eye, creating a path through the blood that coats half of her face. Her lips are turning blue, but I wait until she attempts to nod before releasing her. She doubles over before coughing hard, spitting pooled up blood and saliva on the floor .

I spin to grab Caspian’s hand—Isolde will find a healer herself; and if she doesn’t, I’ll be disappointed for missing her final breaths. The prince stares at the sputtering mess on the floor with his brows raised, not noticing my outstretched hand. I cannot discern how he feels about my little performance, but he'll get over it. This is the consequence of him entertaining other women.

My hand snatches his and tugs him down the hall. I release my grip once we’re walking down the stairs toward the common area.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to me, angel. I shouldn’t be painfully hard from your threatening aura…and yet here I am.”

A laugh slips out before I can stop it—the things he says are so strange. I peer over my shoulder, my eyes making a show of examining his dick. “Stay hard. We have places to be.”

“One of these days I’m going to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you until you lose your Angel-damned attitude.” I freeze and swallow past the heat in my throat.

The man isn’t afraid to say anything that flits through his mind. It’s so refreshing.

My heels cross and spin me to face the prince, who’s a few steps up, leaving me nearly eye-level with the obvious bulge in his pants. Maybe I should let him do just what he promised…

“Is that so?” I breathe, not confident in my ability to speak normally.

He drops the remaining steps between us, pinching the hem of my top and running those icy fingers along the base of my abdomen. Something tingles down the back of my neck. “I really love the fire inside of you. The way you fight everything I say even when your soul is begging you to give into me and your feelings.” He hums when his free hand rubs a thumb over my breast, and I know he’s feeling the hardened evidence of my reaction to his words. “You mask your desire so beautifully, but your body makes you a liar, Ariella. You want me as I crave you, and it’s just a matter of time before you let go of whatever is holding you back.”

I blink. I haven’t the faintest idea of how to respond, because he’s right. I can admit to the deepest parts of myself that I want him so badly it turns my stomach, but will I confess such asininity out loud? Never.

He smiles, the happiness glimmering in his eyes enough to keep me here under his charm-addled will. “It’s okay—I’ll get you to acknowledge it, eventually.”

“Not likely, prince.”

It is curious…my entire life I’ve struggled to maintain eye contact with anyone, even my parents. When I seek to intimidate or engage in conversation, I find myself focusing on the space around others’ eyes. But Caspian? I could stare into the silver depths of his for years and never once feel uncomfortable or intensely nauseous.

Such an anomaly must be studied.

What is it about him that challenges everything I’d thought I knew about myself? Why does he affect me so much ? The bastard is borderline obsessed and just as possessive as I feel.

Unwanted scrutiny floods my mind, my feet shifting under the prince’s gaze, and I can’t help but think back to how things used to be. I’ve always thrived in routines—sharp, predictable, and unyielding. They were my armor, allowing me to maintain control and focus on my goals without distraction. I preferred solitude, finding comfort in the silence that others often found unbearable. It was easier to exist that way…moving through life with singular purpose, unbothered by the noise of others’ needs and emotions. Even Isaiah never disrupted my ways, instead melding himself into my life, complementing all that I was.

But Caspian? He’s disrupted everything. His relentless pursuit of me has shaken the foundation I’ve spent years solidifying. His presence pulls at me, constantly contesting my resolve and throwing off my plans. I hate how unsettled I feel now—he’s upended the very structure I’ve lived comfortably on for years.

And yet, instead of losing myself to the uncertainty of my life changing, he calms that part of me. His insistence has kept me grounded, providing me the level mind I’ve desperately needed.

He’s both my villain and my redemption.

My destruction and its savior.

The assassin, destroyed by the same prince she once drove her blade into.

A finger taps on each of my thighs as I open my mouth to respond. “Ariella?” Marek’s voice pierces the tension, and I drop back into the reality I keep finding myself distracted from.

Caspian hesitates to lower his hands before I turn to descend the remaining stairs, where my mentor waits with a look that says, what the fuck is the prince doing here ?

“He’s with me,” I confirm to no one in particular. We reach the main floor, and Marek steps back two paces, crossing his arms. His eyes narrow as they dart between Caspian and me, inspecting every detail.

He nods to my guest before speaking once more. “Why are you here? And why is it you’ve brought the prince?” he questions me as if Caspian isn’t right here, but if the prince is bothered by the blatant dismissal, he doesn’t show it.

It is clear Marek is pissed at me walking Eldorian royalty into the guild, but I do not answer to him anymore. I haven’t for years—my conformity has been but a choice. One he does not dictate.

I shrug. “I needed something from Isaiah’s room.” He watches me for a minute, seeming to debate whether pressing me on the topic is worth it. He knows I will not hurt him, but he also knows better than to provoke me.

Whispers filter through the air—an audience of whom I do not wish to have right now. Marek hears them as well, nodding his head back. “My office.” I motion for Caspian to walk ahead of me, not trusting any of these bitches to not pull a stunt like Isolde’s.

Money and power corrupt even the best of us, so I’ve no doubt some of the students are already salivating at the thought of exploiting the prince’s status.

We step inside my mentor’s unaltered office, and I click the door closed before dropping into one of the two plush chairs across from Marek’s. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk .

“Okay, what’s going on?”

“I’m not sure what you mean. I told you last week about what I was seeking.” I chose to not disclose the full truth until I have more information to give, so he still only knows the basics. I pin Caspian with a look that tells him to keep his damn mouth shut. Marek does not need to be privy to everything we’re looking for until we ourselves know what it is. He’ll just worry and insist on including himself—unacceptable, as I’d be forced to watch over two people, which would remove my focus from the task at hand.

Marek sighs, the lines around his eyes crinkling as he chuckles. “You don’t have to be so difficult, Ariella. More-so than usual, I might add.” He points a finger at me before speaking once more. “What are you doing with the prince? Is he forcing you into anything?”

Caspian huffs a breath. “I'm right here—what if I was forcing her? Why ask that in front of me, then?” Marek and I burst out laughing, and the prince looks as shocked as ever.

“Respectfully, Your Highness,” Marek starts, amusement laced in each word, “you wouldn’t make it out of your seat before she had your head on the floor.”

Caspian hums appreciatively, nodding. “That is true,” he mumbles to himself while Marek seems to solidify something.

“Are you two… together ?”

Oh, do I love making him uncomfortable. “If by together you mean am I fucking him? Then, yes, we’re together.” My mentor winces hard, pinching his forehead and growling low .

“Dammit, Ariella, why? You may not be my daughter by blood, but I am just as any other parent— please do not speak of your intimate relations around me.”

“Then don’t ask.” I could feel guilty for saying what I did, but now he’ll not ask any further questions, and I’ll not have to lie.

“Fine,” he mutters. “Do you need anything before you go?”

I shake my head. “No, we’ve got what we need. And judging by the sounds out there,” I gesture to his door, where the sounds of Valoria awaken, “we’re well past the time we needed to leave at.”

My legs push me to stand as I grab my pack and throw it back over my shoulder. Marek gives Caspian a charged look—it hurts.

I am certainly not the embodiment of a girl who brings her crush to meet her parents, but this is as close as I will ever get to experiencing that.

I stretch my neck, shaking my hands off. This is just another one of those firsts I knew twenty years ago I’d never have—thanks to my companion's father.

We exchange our goodbyes and walk through the common area, where at least a dozen students tense as their jaws drop when they notice Caspian.

I let them look. It’s the only time they’ll be in such a presence, anyway, and I can be benevolent sometimes.

I halt at the door Caspian just walked through when something grabs my arm. Marek steps around, blocking my view of the others. “You sure you’re okay? You know you can tell me, or ask me, for anything. ”

My lips rise at his concern, and I nod. “I know. I’ll see you soon.”

We share a silent understanding before I follow the prince down to the street. We turn west and begin our trek to find the Palmluvela.