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

9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Caspian

T oo many hours pass in a blur of silence, the kind that’s taut with barely contained tension. Ariella strides ahead, her steps relentless and purposeful, as if she’s prepared to keep walking through the remainder of the night. She hasn’t spoken a word since we left the guild this morning, and I suspect it’s her attempt to avoid processing what just happened. I can’t blame her—if I had nearly killed someone in a fit of rage after walking through my dead friend’s room when the night before I'd bitten into someone's throat…

But I’m fucking tired. I’m not used to being dragged through a darkened forest for hours on end without rest; and as much as she’ll deny it, neither is my wraith. I’m worried her body is going to give out on her if she doesn’t at least eat something soon. I’ve tried to give her food, yet she ignores me and keeps pressing forward, fueled by whatever flood is churning inside her.

“Ariella,” I try again, my voice low and calm. “We need to stop.”

She doesn’t slow down. If anything, she quickens her pace, her shoulders tightening as if my words are just one more annoyance she’s determined to outrun .

Fucking Aether, I have never met such a frustrating woman.

I catch up to her, stepping in front of her path. The moon is bright enough that I can make out most of her features. “Angel, you need to rest.”

Her eyes flash with a cold stubbornness, and I groan as that means I’m about to lose this argument. “No,” she snaps, her voice raw and edged with fatigue. “We keep going.”

I sigh, clenching my pack and resisting the urge to rub my temples. “This isn’t a race. We need to keep our strength up if we’re going to reach the Palmluvela in one piece.” These last hours I’ve voiced my concerns of her, but perhaps bringing myself into the conversation will get through to her.

She glares at me as a spark of defiance flicks through her gaze. “I’m not weak.”

“I know you’re not.” I keep my voice gentle, though I’m starting to lose my patience. Truthfully, I’m well past that threshold, but I don’t wish to fight. “But you’re human. And so am I, in case you forgot.”

Her jaw works, and my stomach coils as she tenses again. For a moment, I think she’s going to push past me and keep walking, but then something in her expression shifts—a trace of uncertainty, quickly masked. It’s enough to make me soften my approach.

“Ariella,” I say, stepping closer. “You can’t run from this. Whatever is going on in that brilliant head of yours…it’s going to catch up to yo u, eventually.”

Her eyes drop to the ground, and she exhales, a sharp sound that’s more frustration than surrender. But it’s a start.

“I’m not running,” she mutters, though her voice lacks the usual conviction. “I just need to keep moving.”

“I know,” I reply, reaching out to grasp her arm. Her muscles are rigid beneath my fingers, but she doesn’t pull away. “But you’ll burn out if you don’t rest. I’m here, Ariella. You don’t have to do this alone—not anymore.”

She meets my gaze, her eyes searching mine for something—trust, maybe, or the assurance that I won’t abandon her. It’s a vulnerability she rarely shows, and my heart squeezes with the weight of protectiveness and something dangerously close to loving affection. That’s new, though not unwelcome.

“Fine,” she relents, her voice no more than a whisper. “We’ll stop.”

I nod, trying to hide the relief that floods through me.

We find a small clearing off our self-designated path, hidden enough to avoid any unlikely prying eyes but open enough to keep watch. I gather wood from the abundance of it scattered on the forest floor and set up in the small area we found between trees. Ariella settles on a patch of grass, weaving fire into existence with the twist of her fingers. Her movements are slower now, the exhaustion catching up to her. She’s stubborn as fuck, but even she has limits.

I sit across from her and we both eat from our packs in silence. Moss and vines cover most trunks of the large trees, giving the forest an almost mystical feel. As if time itself refuses to abide by the rules of the realm. My eyes close of their own will, and I breathe in lungfuls of the fresh, crisp air. I suspect the atmosphere here is quite humid during the warmer days, which would have made this trip wildly uncomfortable.

Aside from the sounds of flame, the forest is quiet around us. I hear no birds or insects, or even larger animals—I thought the Amyst Wolves lived on these lands…

A loud crackle of the fire sounds between us, and I open my eyes to study Ariella in the flickering light. Her face is drawn, shadows accentuating the angles of her cheekbones. She looks as fierce as ever, but there’s a weariness in her posture that I’d be damned to ignore.

“Tell me something,” I say, breaking the silence. “What do you think Gavriel’s reaction was when I told him he couldn’t join us?”

Ariella’s lips twitch, the closest thing to a smile I’ve seen from her all night. “I’d bet my blade that the brute dropped to his knees and kissed each of your feet while begging you to let him come.”

I chuckle, rolling my shoulders. “I won't pretend to understand why you two hate each other so much, but I’ll admit it’s entertaining. You are wrong, though. I told him I needed someone to keep an eye on my father and Varrick, and he insisted on arguing with me until he gave in—not unlike you, actually.” I know I’m pressing her buttons, but I can’t help it.

“What did I tell you would happen the next time you compared me to him?”

My head tilts as I grin. “You going to cut my dick off, angel? Because I don’t think you will. ”

“Hm—I seem to recall that the last time you underestimated me, my blade appeared in your abdomen.”

“You are a stubborn fucking woman,” I mutter, adjusting to lean against the cool bark of a tree. “Are you always so difficult to work with? Or am I just special?”

Her gaze softens in the slightest, the tension easing from her shoulders. “I don’t work with anyone else. This is strange, however.” She gestures between our bodies. “I’m not familiar with being alone with someone who is not trying to stab me in the back.”

“I am not your enemy, Ariella,” I assert, though I know it’s a lesson that’s been hard for her to learn. One she still hasn’t fully grasped. “Some of us actually want to see you succeed and be happy.”

Her eyes narrow, accusing. “And what’s in it for you, Caspian?”

I pause, considering the question. There’s the obvious answer—uniting against our common enemy, ending the horrors my father has unleashed, and learning just what her parents’ writing referred to—but there’s also something deeper, something she’s not ready to hear.

“Let’s just say I have a vested interest in keeping you alive,” I reply, maintaining my light tone. “Besides, you’re far too beautiful to lose so soon.”

She snorts, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossibly handsome and charming, yes,” I lilt with a grin.

My wraith turns away, the hint of a smile playing at her lips. It’s something, at least.

We travel for two more days, and I again struggle to stop her long enough to do any self-care. How she’s kept herself alive this long is a mystery I’ll never solve, though she did mention she has never traveled anywhere before. This is the farthest journey she’s been on, and perhaps that’s why she’s continuously tapping her thigh and sounding so frustrated.

This is new to her. She’s uncomfortable. This cunning, beautiful, brilliant woman doesn’t like change.

I hum to myself and set aside that information.

We’ve fallen into an easy routine; Ariella prepares the tent while I gather wood and fill our water packs. After she weaved away the wards at her door and I confirmed she possesses all three infinities, it had never occurred to me that she had access to more strands than I’d already knew of. How many is that now? Flora, vital, aero, aqua, pyro, kinetic, and umbral. After our unexpected tryst, when she demonstrated her shadows, I suspect she is also able to weave the psionic strand.

I’ve no fucking clue what happened that day, but I know she was talking in my head. The things she’d said didn’t sound like her, but they felt so right.

Then she bit me.

I wanted to bite her back. Needed to.

And I loved every bizarre second of it.

I shiver as sticks drop from my arms onto the bed of sand I’ve designated as the fire pit. My hand mindlessly reaches for the two dots on my neck and rubs the almost healed skin. Neither Ariella nor I have spoken about what happened after that day, though my mind has been churning from holding the questions back. I can tell the topic is discomforting to her, but we cannot lurk around the unspoken conversation forever.

Releasing a breath, I step back as Ariella starts the fire and reach into my pack for salted meat and a honey cake I think she will like. I will force it down her throat if she refuses to eat…she’s consumed nothing but water since yesterday. And as I watch her rearrange her bedding for a moment, the tension in her shoulders betrays just how well she’s faring.

I wordlessly set the food next to her and grab her water pack, calling my essence to reach into the realm and allow me to use my aqua strand. Once her pack is filled, I drop next to the fire and lean on my side, resting high enough on my elbow that I can eat without choking.

We sit by the small fire in comfortable silence. I trace every detail of her face as the radiance of the flames flicker across her features. She’s beautiful in this light—fierce and angelic, with the kind of allure that’s more dangerous than inviting. I’ve never been one to indulge in such thoughts about women, but she makes it difficult not to. I was not lying when I’d explained why I call her angel—I’m still not fully convinced she isn’t the Angel. She’s unpredictable, volatile, and yet, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful…and my soul wants nothing more than to protect her, regardless that she’ll never need it. Well, physical protection, that is. Her heart? I’ll keep it safe until she’s ready to care for it on her own. And even then, I’ll be here, prepared to hold on to it when she cannot.

That realization is harrowing.

I’ve never felt this way before. I chuckle to myself, because of course I fall for the one woman who insists on fighting me at every turn.

“You’ve been quiet,” I say, breaking the silence.

Her eyes find mine momentarily as she shrugs, tearing a piece of dried meat with more aggression than necessary. “I have nothing to say.”

“Bullshit,” I retort, earning a glare. Something warm builds inside me at having her full attention. Seemingly negative attention—but I do not care. “You’re thinking a thousand things right now. I wish you’d share one of them.”

Her eyes narrow. “You really want to know what I’m thinking?”

“Yes.”

She leans forward on her hands, her voice low and rough. “I’m thinking that trusting you is a risk I can’t afford, but I’m doing it anyway.” I am…not sure what to say to that. It’s the most honest thing she’s ever said to me, and it feels like a step forward, even if it’s a small one .

Her laugh is hostile, something breaking in her gaze. “I’m thinking that I don’t know what I’m fucking doing anymore, Caspian. I mean, what are we doing? How did I go from wanting to kill you and the king to traveling through this ridiculous forest because of some nonsense things my parents wrote twenty years ago?” Her admitting she wanted me dead doesn’t bother me as much as it should. But I throw those thoughts out, focused on the shine in her eyes. “For so long, I knew what I needed to do, and I spent every single day training for it. Everything was planned so meticulously. And now fucking nothing ,” she’s just shy of screaming at this point, “is the same, and I feel like I’m going insane, which is just fucking pathetic! How did someone like me, who clearly cannot handle a little fluctuation of plans, end up with the reputation I have? I’m nothing but a fool with a title.”

She looks up at me, and my hand clenches the closest thing to keep me from going to her. She doesn’t need to be coddled, but she needs to learn that what she’s feeling is okay.

I hadn’t realized just how much this would affect her—she’s suppressed everything but anger for so long that her body has adopted a permanent survival mode. Difficult is not the word to describe what it’s like watching her reach a breaking point.

It means something that she’s allowed herself to be so honest and vulnerable with me, however. I want to be her safe space, but I will not be her savior.

She falls to her back and presses the heels of her palms against both eyes. I let the silence stretch for a moment, allowing the weight of her words to settle between us. “You’re not pathetic,” I say after a pause, my tone firm but soft. “You’re human. You’re allowed to feel lost—to struggle with the unknown.”

She scoffs, dropping her arms and turning her face toward the fire, but I catch the way her jaw tightens, as if she’s trying to hold on to her anger. “Easy for a prince to say.” Fair. And true.

I keep my voice even, refusing to let her retreat into the self-loathing I feel her sinking into. That’s not who she is. “Ariella, you’ve built yourself up for years on rage and certainty. It’s no wonder everything feels wrong right now. But you’re no fool, and you’re not weak for feeling this way. Adjusting to change is not the same as failing.”

“Then why does it all feel the same?” Her response is instant, as if she’s clutching at my every word.

“Because it’s new.” My gaze follows hers as she studies the trees and gleaming sky above us. The view seems to have a calming effect on her.

“How do I get it to go away.” It’s not a question, not really. More of a resigned acceptance.

“Angel, look at me.” Not a heartbeat later, Ariella rolls to her stomach, resting on her hands as those inquisitive eyes find mine. Will my heart skip every time she looks at me for the rest of our lives? “Living doesn’t mean erasing the pain so that you never have to deal with it; it means finding a way to keep moving despite all the scars and unhealed parts of us.”

She regards me for a moment, something akin to appreciation falling over her features. “What if I don’t accept that? ”

I shrug. “You can either live alongside the darkest parts of you, or you can let them destroy that fire inside until you’re nothing but a shell.” I lean forward, a challenge in my gaze. “But that doesn’t sound like the Ariella I know.”

“You don’t know me,” she whispers, uncertainty lacing her tone, and I snort.

“Don’t I? I know how you tap your fingers against your thigh when you’re nervous or overwhelmed. The way you tilt your head just a little when you’re deep in thought, like you’re weighing every option once or twice before making a decision. How you hide your hair beneath the hood of your cloak when you don’t wish to be perceived, because it must be fucking exhausting to have every person in the realm know your identity. I know that you twirl a blade through your fingers when you’re trying to hold yourself back. You mindlessly touch the little scar on your wrist whenever Isaiah’s name is brought up.

“You’re always the first to notice the smallest details—things that any other person would have taken days to discover. I know that you never eat food out of order, only eating one thing at a time until you’re finished—and that’s how I also know you thrive on control. You have to know what’s going on at all times and where you stand in every situation. I’ve seen how you run your fingers through your hair when you’re frustrated, but you never pull. How you hold back a wince each time I step close to you, because the need to defend yourself from touch is so instinctual that you can’t help it.

“I know who you are, Ariella. But whether you’re ready to accept the truth that you’re a human—and not a tool whose only purpose is to kill—is something you will need to figure out on your own.”

Ariella’s eyes widen at my words, but she quickly covers it with a glare. “You pay too much attention,” she mutters, her voice a blend of annoyance and something softer.

I grin as I rise from the ground. “You’re hard to ignore.”

She huffs, but there’s no real bite to it. My stomach flutters when her lips twitch, a smile threatening to break through the heavy silence. “I suppose I should be flattered.”

“Suppose you should,” I tease, throwing her a sidelong glance. “Besides, someone has to keep an eye on you. You’re liable to stab yourself out of sheer frustration.”

She shakes her head, but a small laugh escapes her. “If I did, I’d make sure to miss anything vital.”

“Good to know you have some sense of self-preservation,” I say, my tone light, even as the tension of our conversation hangs in the air.

I think I hear her say for now under her breath, but she clears her throat and pushes to her feet. “It’s late. We should try to rest.” She glances toward the tent, hesitating. “You know…you don’t have to sleep outside every night.” This is surprising—I’ve wanted to as it gives her space to herself, but I’m not going to pretend the offer doesn’t make me feel giddy.

I raise a brow. “What’s this? An invitation to share a tent with the Silver Wraith? ”

Her expression is deadpan. “Hardly. But don’t think I’m going to cuddle you or anything.” She emphasizes the last word, and I feign panic.

“But how will we stay warm, then?”

She tosses her head back to laugh, and it’s the sweetest sound. There’s no response, but she doesn’t protest when I move toward the tent. We settle down, the space awkwardly small but heated enough.

Or perhaps that’s just the inferno under my skin.

We both have to lie on our sides, lest our shoulders press together. Not that I’d mind…

Just as I’m adjusting my blanket, Ariella’s voice cuts through the darkness. “If you snore, I’ll kick you.”

I chuckle, turning my head toward her. “I seem to remember you are the one who snores, not me—or is that only after a griffin attacks you?”

“Shut up,” she mutters, and the smile in her voice brings out one of my own.

For a moment, the weight of everything lifts, replaced by the unfamiliar bliss of sharing a laugh with someone who’s seen you at your worst.

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable; it’s a tentative peace, always fragile but always real. I close my eyes, enjoying as the faint sultriness of her scent fills the small space, and listen to the soft sound of her breathing.

Tomorrow may be just as hard as today, but for now, this is enough.