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

18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Ariella

T he city streets are a disappointing kind of empty for this time of day, as if everyone is too afraid to leave their homes. Pity, I was hoping for a little entertainment.

Two women catch my eye as I pass through a main street and they immediately spin to avoid me like death itself, though that’s nothing new. What is new are the closed shop signs hanging in just about every window.

How did everything change so quickly?

My shoulders roll back as I push away the tingling under my skin. I know what I’m capable of, but bringing down a king requires more than just skill with blades. It requires patience, which is something I am running out of after enduring it for twenty years.

How uncharacteristic of me.

The familiar stone steps of the guild come into view, and I force my breathing to settle. I don’t feel guilty for leaving Caspian behind while he meets with his father. And as much as I do not trust that pathetic excuse of a king, I know he will not harm his son .

But harm isn’t always physical, and it’s that thought that drives my feet faster.

I pause at the entrance, running my fingers over the worn handle. My father’s journal presses against the pouch at my hip, its weight impossible to ignore—a constant reminder of everything I’ve lost and all still at stake. It’s time I speak with Marek, though. It kills me to rely on others, but aside from Caspian, he is the one person alive who I can trust.

I’m not sure I would have even confided in Isaiah with this information.

The common area is empty save for one of the newer students sprawled across a chair, mouth hanging open as he snores softly. His hand dangles close to a blade, and I fight the urge to wake him with it pressed against his throat. Marek would not appreciate me terrorizing more of his students, but the idiot should learn to not leave himself so vulnerable.

Sighing, I walk with silent steps through the room, descending the stairs to where I know I’ll find my mentor. Jaxon’s voice drifts up from his briefing room, animated in that way he gets when explaining some new discovery.

“—the integration is seamless! The essence flows through these channels here, see?” His excited tone grows clearer as I approach. “It’s unlike anything we’ve seen from Lumarna before.”

I don’t bother knocking before pushing the door open. Marek, Velora, and Jaxon huddle around something on the table, their heads snapping up at my entrance. Velora’s eye twitches, and Jaxon moves to shield whatever they’re examining, but not before I catch a glimpse of gleaming metal and pulsing light.

“By the Angel, haven’t you heard of knocking, Ariella?” Velora scolds, though there’s no real heat in her voice.

I smirk. “No. But I have heard a blade to the heart does wonders for stress. Care to try?” I step closer to the stout woman, raising a brow as her cheeks heat. Before she can continue our game, my eyes catch on what appears to be some sort of holding device. It’s small, no larger than my palm, with intricate channels carved into its surface. My brows crease at the essence flowing through them like liquid starlight. “What is that?”

Jaxon shifts, sliding a hand through his unkempt hair. “Just something from Auroria. A new type of essence amplifier, supposedly.”

But it’s not from Auroria—the craftsmanship is distinctly Lumarnan. I’ve spent enough time studying both cities’ work to know the difference.

I pause, pursing my lips. The way the essence moves through it like blood in a vein…something clicks in my mind, a piece of a puzzle I didn’t even know needed solving.

“Fuck,” I breathe, my hand reaching out to touch it before I can stop myself. Jaxon snatches it away, but it’s too late. I’ve seen enough.

The king’s experiments. The children. The way essence seems to be bleeding from the realm itself—fuck's sake, it all connects. The realization crashes into me, my mind spinning with everything I was too distracted to not put together until now .

But the question that flashes through me is how I will rid of the king without knowing what he’s done with his subjects? Perhaps he will use himself as a fail-safe—kill him, and the children die, too. Where would he be keeping them?

“I need to speak with you,” I tell Marek, my voice leaving no room for argument. “Alone.”

His resolute eyes study me for a long moment before he nods. “Velora, Jaxon, give us the room.”

They gather their things, though Jaxon hesitates, reluctant to leave his precious device behind as he stumbles from the room. Once the door closes behind them, I pull my father’s book from my pouch and toss it on the table between us, crossing my arms.

Marek’s eyes widen—a nearly imperceptible indication of his surprise. In all the years I’ve known him, we’ve never spoken of my father. We’ve had a mutual understanding; an invisible line drawn between our boundaries that I’m about to cross.

“Where did you find this?” he questions, not reaching for it.

“My house.” I note every detail of his reaction.

He curses under his breath, running a hand over his face. “You went back…” He trails off, meeting my eyes. “What else did you find?”

I tell him everything—about the Accord, the balance, the strange behavior of essence throughout the realm, Thalion’s experiments. With each revelation, his expression grows darker.

“The Accord,” he mutters when I finish. “It sounds familiar, but I can’t place where I’ve heard of it. ”

I pace the length of the room, my mind racing. The man is old, but perhaps I was wrong about him holding information. I’d convinced myself he’d have something to share, considering he was around before even my parents were.

“You know nothing of it, then?”

He shakes his head, leaning a hand against the table. “I wish I did, Ari.” His tone is haunting and genuine, as if it pains him to not have the answers I’m seeking.

There’s one other place I’ve been considering. I’m less optimistic about finding anything there, but we still have a few days to figure this out.

“There’s something else,” I remark, stepping back to lean against a wall. “Do you remember Ally?”

His brow furrows. “The girl from Meridian? The one who—”

“Tried to kill me after she fucked Isaiah? Yes.” I wave away the memory and ignore his string of curses, irritation simmering beneath the surface of my skin. “Thalion went all the way to Meridian to recruit her for the competition. Why? There are plenty of assassins here who would have jumped at the chance to take me down, especially for the promise of a crown.”

Understanding dawns in his eyes. “You think there’s something important in Meridian.” Not a question. I swallow the smile that wants to appear at just how well Marek knows me.

“I think there are a lot of things the king doesn’t want us to know.” I halt mid-thought and whirl to face him fully. “And I think it’s possible there’s something worth seeking in Meridian. Perhaps he just chose the most gullible idiot he could find, but Angel damn me if I’m not at least going to try searching there. This is too big to remain even the slightest ignorant before I kill him.”

He dips his head, the movement deliberate. “How can I help you?”

The words cement the growing thickness in my throat, because he can’t. Not anymore.

I don’t answer, instead vowing that I will find him if he can help. The sadness in his expression pushes me out the door, and he thankfully doesn’t press to hug me or whatever the fuck people do for such comfort.

My eyes find Jaxon’s device once more before I leave Marek with the journal. I’ve read the fading pages so many times I’ve memorized every date and word, so it will be safer here than with me. I’ve no desire to give the king any other part of me. If he manages to raid my room, that is.

As I climb the stairs back to the common area, a familiar voice stops me in my tracks.

“Come to pay for your crimes, have you?” Isolde leans against the wall at the top of the stairs, her arms crossed over her chest. She’s furious, which would normally excite me, but I’ve no time for her petty games today.

“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter to myself. “Move.”

She laughs, the sound grating against my nerves. “Or what? You’ll go tell your precious prince?”

My hand wraps around her throat before I can stop it, pressing her harder into the wall. A blade would create a beautiful mess, but I want to feel her pulse weaken as I squeeze the air from her body.

“I have never met anyone who wishes to die more than you do.” I smile and curl my fingers inward. “I’m feeling charitable today, however, so I suppose I will grant your wish.”

She tries to speak, her eyes bulging past their natural place. Her nails claw at my hand, tearing the skin and spilling hot blood over my steel grip. The pain is my pleasure, though—something she realizes too late as her body begins to panic. I could subtly weave my psionic strand to force her obedience, but her raw reaction is far more satisfying.

I hold still as she thrashes against me, the weight beneath my sternum slipping into a dark place. When have I ever given the impression that I welcome harassment? Why does the entire fucking realm continue to piss me off for their own amusement?

Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear—my words mean nothing compared to actions, it seems. I’ve given far too many warnings. It’s time I shut the fuck up and follow-through.

Isolde will be the perfect example to those who continue to question me. The bitch still doesn’t know her place, so I’ll craft her a new one. The Angel can figure out how to deal with her.

The thought makes me smile. The bliss I would feel to know the Angel put Ally and Isolde’s souls next to each other, or whatever it does with them when we die.

I vaguely hear screaming as several people attempt to pull me away from the convulsing woman in front of me. It takes every bit of strength to hold myself in place before I decide to have a little fun.

I yank her from the wall, loosening my grip just enough to keep her awake longer. A rough cough rattles my hand as I drag her while I tug on my aero strand. At least I have one useful fucking strand that I can weave publicly. They want me away from her so badly?

Fine. I’ll give them what they want.

Tossing her across the floor, to the center of the small crowd that has gathered in the common room, I wait for Isolde to catch her breath. She hacks up thick liquid, spitting it onto the pristine clean floors. Disgusting.

I feel Marek’s presence storm up behind me, and I hold a hand above my shoulder without looking away from my charge. “Do not touch me, Marek, or you’re next.”

“You can’t go around killing anyone you want to, Ariella. Leave her alone.”

“Is that so? And what if I told you the prince hired me to kill her after she dared speak to him?” I look over my shoulder at my seething mentor. “Would it be acceptable, then? You should have kept a better leash on her because I’m done.” His jaw tightens. He’s clearly uncomfortable but maintains my gaze, his eyes matching the coldness seeping from mine.

“Leave her alone.” He enunciates each word, pursing his lips before continuing. “Or you’re out.” Unfortunately for him, I don’t fucking care .

A dark chuckle slips from me as I pivot on my heels to face him. I’ve the urge to look through each face here, but this moment is too important to remove my attention from Marek.

Isolde continues to cough behind me as I advance. My eyes watch the war in Marek's, and I cannot tell if he’s upset with me, or upset with himself for training me as he did. Because he knows damn well there is nothing he, or anyone, in this building could do to stop me.

Angling my head, I lower my voice so he’s the only one to hear my words. “Then I’m out.” His eyes widen as I tug on my aero strand once more and send the essence down Isolde’s throat. And because I’m a petty bitch, I raise a hand before curling my fingers inward as I drain the air from her lungs. I do not need my hands for such weaving, but I'm nothing if not dramatic when a point needs to be made.

The entire guild falls silent as Isolde’s body convulses on the floor. The desperate clawing at her throat reminds me too much of my father’s last moments, though I feel nothing but satisfaction. No one moves to help her. Not even Marek.

“You disappoint me,” he whispers, his usually stern face softening for just a moment. “I thought you were better than this.”

I laugh, the sound hollow even to my own ears. “Better than what, Marek? Better than the woman who has killed hundreds of people? Better than the reputation I’ve earned a thousand times over?” My voice rises with each word until I’m shouting. “Better than the woman who fell for the fucking son of the man who murdered her own father? ”

His brows raise at that last admission, but I’m beyond caring. Burning rage courses through my veins, demanding retribution for every slight, every loss, every moment of pain.

“Or maybe,” I continue, stepping closer until we’re a hair from touching, “you thought I was better than the woman who is going to kill the king and watch his kingdom burn.” I smile, but there’s no warmth in it. “So sorry, Marek—I’ve always been exactly who I am. Perhaps you should have kept a tighter leash on me .”

Behind me, Isolde’s movements have slowed to weak twitches. I don’t need to look to know she’s moments from death. Good. Let them all see what happens when they push me too far.

“At least tell me why,” Marek demands, his voice barely audible. “Why now? When there’s so much else you need to do? Why bother with her?”

I consider ignoring him, but he deserves at least this much truth. “Because I’m tired of playing nice. I’m tired of pretending I give a fuck about any of these people or their pathetic lives.” My hand gestures to the crowd surrounding us. “And I am so Angel-damned tired of everyone thinking they can challenge me without consequences.”

Velora steps forward, her face pale but determined. “Ariella, we’re your family—”

“Family?” The word is poison on my tongue. “As if you're any better than Isolde—where do you think she got her wretched personality from? If you speak to me one more time, Velora, you’ll be joining her.” I pause, letting my words sink in. “Because you want to know what happens to people who claim to be my family? They die. So please , keep pushing me. I haven’t tasted enough blood yet today.”

The silence that follows is deafening as each student seems to shrink into themselves. My reputation has always preceded me, but now they’re witnessing firsthand why I earned it.

A small whimper draws my attention back to Isolde. Her eyes are glassy, unfocused, but still holding onto that last thread of life. I could end it now, quick and clean…would that defeat the purpose of this lesson?

I want to be covered in her blood when I finally take her life, but I have things to do.

“Watch carefully,” I announce to the room, my voice echoing in the stillness. “This is what happens when you forget who I am.”

With a slight twist of my fingers, I completely block her air supply. Her body gives one final jerk before going still. Just like that, another life snuffed out. Another soul for the Angel to collect.

I focus on Marek once more, unsurprised to find disappointment etched in the deep lines of his face. “You’ve made your choice, then?”

“I made my choice twenty years ago.” I spin and step over Isolde’s body, striding toward the door. “Everything since then has just been preparation.”

“For what?” he calls after me.

I walk through the threshold, not bothering to look back as I leave the building and ignore his question .

The walk back to the castle gives me time to process what just happened. I’ve always had a quick temper, but it’s never something I will apologize for. Marek knows that, so the fact that he threatened disowning me is strange. I know I can still trust him, though, so my father’s journal will remain there and he can come groveling whenever he’s ready.

My feet carry me through the castle gates as my mind still churns with everything I’ve learned and have yet to do. Go to Meridian, kill the king, fix the Accord.

Simple.

“There you are.” Caspian’s voice breaks through my thoughts. He’s striding toward me, his face tight and wary. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere. I thought you’d be back sooner and when I didn’t find—” He halts, his eyes narrowing as he takes in my appearance. “Is that blood?”

I glance down at my hand, still bearing the stains from Isolde’s desperate struggle. “Not mine.” A petty lie, but I don’t need the concern. I’ve already healed the wounds.

His jaw clenches as he lets out a deep sigh. “Ariella…” My heart skips at the way my name forms around his lips, but I ignore the fluttering and walk.

“Don’t.” I brush past him, turning left toward my room. I need to clean up and think before I leave. “I’m not in the mood for a lecture.”

He follows, of course, and despite what I said, I inwardly smile that he knows I shouldn’t be left alone right now. “What happened? ”

“I killed someone who needed killing. Nothing new.”

His hand catches my arm, spinning me to face him. The contact sends an unwanted spark through my body—one that almost burns.

“Talk to me,” he pleads in a soft tone. “What’s really going on?”

For a moment, I’m tempted. To let all of these disgusting feelings out and just allow myself five minutes to not be okay and seek solace in his arms.

But I don’t.

“Just stressed, as usual,” I say instead, watching his face. “Why?”

His expression darkens as his head shakes. “What did you figure out? Did Marek help?” I appreciate his change in topic, even if I do not wish to talk about Marek.

“No, but I did see something.” I tug him with me so that we’re out of the main part of the castle. “This device Jaxon had—it held essence inside, but it had these vein-like grooves that allowed the essence to flow naturally when it wasn’t being used. But open the device, and the essence spills out.” Saying it out loud only solidifies my assumption. “It’s like it’s…” I struggle to explain my whirling thoughts, but the prince understands.

“Bleeding,” he finishes, his silver eyes meeting mine.

I nod several times. “Yes.”

His forehead creases before something lights in his eyes. “You think that’s what my father’s been doing.”

I nod again.

I can see the connections running through his head. It’s oddly nice to have someone so in-sync with me. “By the Angel…he’s actually stealing essence—it's not some metaphor. That’s how the balance is off, because of the essence spilling from the veins of others while he attempts to take it for himself.”

“Exactly. Which means we’ve no idea just how strong he is or what he’s doing with all the essence.”

“But why children? What makes them different?”

I’ve pondered this question since the moment I saw Jaxon’s device. Are children better conduits? Perhaps their small bodies are ideal for storing or exchanging essence? That doesn’t make sense, though. Their bodies are weak, and they have far less experience with essence than those twice their age, so it must be something else.

If I do not get the answers in Meridian, I'll slit the king’s throat without them, and if there are consequences to the children he’s taken, they can rest on my soul. It will be my burden to bear.

“I’m going to Meridian tonight,” I blurt out in an attempt to thwart the gruesome images in my head.

“What? Why would you do that? My father made it very clear in the meeting that he will abide by the week he gave me, but no more. We haven’t the time for such a trip.”

“We have plenty—that’s where Ally was from, and I don’t believe in coincidences.” I start walking again, realizing we’ve paused, my mind already planning the journey. “Your father went out of his way to recruit her specifically, and I want to know if there was a reason.”

“I’m coming with you.” My eyes roll, regardless that I was hoping he’d say that. I do not want to go without him .

But of course, I’m too fucking stubborn. “No, you’re not.” I spin to face him again, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You need to stay here and keep an eye on things.” Miserable reasoning, but it’s all I have to work with.

“And let you go alone?” he scoffs, crossing his arms. My eyes catch on the flexed muscle under his shirt, and I swallow around the forming lump in my throat. “Not happening.”

“I work better alone, prince.”

“Bullshit.” His hand catches mine where it’s still pressed against his chest. “We’re stronger together and you know it. Stop pushing me away—I thought we were past this.”

I yank my hand back, ignoring the hurt that flashes across his face.

“I’m not pushing you away.” A lie. “I’m being practical. You’re the prince; you cannot just leave. Again.”

He studies me for a long moment, and I force myself to meet his gaze. Finally, he does something unexpected: he tosses his head back and laughs, the sound harsh. I bite my cheek to keep in the smile.

After several heartbeats, he stops and turns those glimmering eyes toward me. “Ariella.” I raise an eyebrow. “You are an obstinate fucking woman. I swear you’d cut off your own arm just to make a point.” My nose scrunches. Why would I do that? It would be impractical and a pain to heal. A couple fingers, though… “Let’s go shower and pack our bags. We will grab dinner be fore we leave.”

A disturbing warmth slides over my chest, and I keep silent as I walk to my room and close the door firmly behind me. Only then do I allow myself to slump against it, the events of the day catching up with my worn body.

The guild is lost to me now. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, but I didn’t lie. They were never my family, so I need to let it go.

After my shower, I begin packing what I’ll need for Meridian. Weapons first—my usual blades plus a few extras. Then supplies. Enough for three days, though I doubt it will take that long. Always better to be prepared.

My hand pauses over the gilded egg next to my bed. I have the urge to bring it with me, but unless I plan on trading it, it will be of no use and a wasted effort.

A knock at the door interrupts my packing. “Come in, prince.”

“It’s not Caspian.” Gavriel’s voice comes through the wood, tense and angry. “We need to talk.”

I consider ignoring him, but that would probably just make him more persistent. With a sigh, I open the door. “What?” My voice is emotionless, the complete opposite of the expression on his face.

He pushes past me into the room, his usual pleasantries notably absent. “I know what you did at the guild.”

“News travels fast.” But not that fast… “Come to congratulate me?” I close the door, leaning against it with forced casualness and a blank face .

“No.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking nervous. Is that right? “I came to tell you that I will be joining you and Caspian in Meridian, but I want you to stay there when him and I leave.”

That wasn’t what I expected. “Excuse me?”

“Did you not hear what I said? I’ve been telling you to leave for fucking months, but you won’t listen. And now, you’re putting Caspian at horrible risk just because you wish to stay near him.” His dark eyes meet mine, dead serious. “You’re getting reckless, Ariella. Now it’s gone so far that word of your senseless murder today has spread and the king has threatened his own son.”

“It was anything but senseless,” I state, though we both know that’s not the point.

It’s also false. What I did may have been a little too over the top for my usual taste, but I was feeling ridiculously on edge and she shoved me right off. That’s on her.

“I don’t care.” He shortens the distance between us, his voice dropping. “I’ve watched you since the competition started.” Creep. “You came here as an assassin, but something has changed. You changed. And now you’re spiraling because you don’t know how to handle it.”

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Handle what? My burning desire to murder the king? That clearly hasn’t changed.”

“No. Your feelings for Caspian.”

The words hit my stomach hard, flipping the organ several times, but I keep my face impassive. “I do not have feelings for the prince. ”

“Lie to yourself if you want.” His arms cross and he appears pleased with himself. “I see the way you look at him, even when you think there’s nothing but hate in your eyes. How your shoulders relax when you're near him. The way you step between him and any perceived threat.”

“That’s called protecting an asset,” I snap. “He’s useful to me alive.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?” He shakes his head. “You’re in love with him, Ariella. And it’s only going to get him killed. This is no longer a game—his own father promised to have Caspian’s head if he does not rid himself of you.”

Simmering rage hangs in the air between us. I want to deny everything he just said, though he’s right. But why the fuck does it matter if the king will be dead before he can even touch the prince?

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t I?” He moves to the door, pausing with his hand outstretched toward the handle. “Just think about what I said, wraith. He doesn’t deserve to die for the likes of you.”

The door closes behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone with thoughts I’ve been trying desperately to avoid. Every bit of fight has fled my body, a sensation I never wanted to experience again. It’s too vulnerable.

You’re in love with him . The mere possibility terrifies me more than anything the king could do .

Love is weakness. Love is vulnerability. Love is what got my parents killed, what got Isaiah killed. I can’t afford to love anyone, least of all the son of the man I’ve sworn to destroy.

But Gavriel’s words flit through my mind, impossible to ignore. Do I look at Caspian when I think no one’s watching? The instinctive need to protect him is loud in my head, but that's my job. I suppose there's the way my heart races when he’s near. How horrible I feel when he’s not.

The way I would take the life of every single person in this realm just to save his.

“Fuck,” I mutter, sliding down the bed to sit on the floor. When did everything get so complicated?

I need to focus. Fuck Gavriel. Caspian’s fate doesn’t change my plans to kill his father, and when the king is dead, the only threat left to the prince is me. I suck in a deep breath and center myself. Meridian first. Then the tunnels. Then the king. Then the Accord.

The rest…I’ll deal with the rest later.

Rising, I return to my packing with renewed determination. Whatever I feel or don’t feel for Caspian doesn’t matter. What matters is stopping his father before he destroys everything.

Even if that means destroying myself in the process.

I finish gathering my supplies and change into fresh clothes before ensuring every weapon is perfectly positioned and easily accessible. The familiar routine helps clear any stress lingering under my skin .

This is who I am. This is what I do. Everything else is just distraction.

A glance out the window shows the sun beginning to set. If we leave now, we can make it to Meridian by morning. That gives us more than enough time to be back in the castle before the king follows through with his threat.