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

24. Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

Caspian

A dull throbbing pulses through my head as consciousness creeps back. My tongue feels thick, coated with a metallic taste that makes me gag. I attempt to lift my hand, needing to rub my aching temples, but restraints bite into my wrists. The fog in my mind clears instantly as I jerk against the bindings.

“I wouldn’t struggle too much. Those are reinforced with essence-infused steel.” My father’s voice drifts from somewhere to my left, but my vision is still catching up with my mind. “A fascinating discovery, really. When we learned to merge essence with metal, instead of just using it as a conduit, it opened up entirely new possibilities.”

I will my racing heart to calm as my eyes adjust to the dim lighting of my bedroom. Father sits in a chair near the window, his posture relaxed as if we’re having a casual conversation over breakfast. Moonlight catches on his crown, making him look eerie. He sits slouched, one hand draped casually over the armrest while the other twirls a crystal glass with something dark inside. It’s unsettling—he never slouches, and the lack of his usual rigid formality would make my stomach churn if it wasn’t doing so already.

I cannot believe this bastard is my father.

“Where is she?” My voice comes out hoarse, too quiet to sound confident. The last thing I remember is Ariella collapsing as guards surrounded us in that appalling laboratory.

He waves a hand, dismissing my concern. “The wraith is…being handled. But let’s discuss what you saw down there, son.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his eyes hold mine with an evil look. The sharp angles of his broad cheekbones stand out as the dark strands of his hair contour both sides of his face. “I assume you have questions.”

Heat burns through my veins. I do not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break, but against my better judgment, I snap. “Questions? You’re experimenting on children . You murdered contestants in a competition I helped organize. You have single-handedly ruined the future of two fucking realms! What could justify any of this?” I clear my throat and try to gather any saliva I can, but it’s of no use.

“Power, of course.” He says it so simply, so unbothered, as if explaining basic arithmetic to a child. “Do you know how long our family has ruled Eldoria, Caspian? Centuries. And in all that time, we’ve been at the mercy of those born with stronger essence. Those who could theoretically overthrow us at any moment.” His eyes gleam with a zealous aura that prickles at my skin and sets an unease I can’t shake .

“So this is about control? Stealing essence from innocents to what—make yourself more powerful?” I tug against the restraints again, metal biting into my flesh. There’s not a hint of weakness in these bindings, rendering my struggle useless. I’ll only waste strength and energy if I continue.

“Not just control. Evolution.” He stands and begins pacing, hands gesturing wildly. “Think about it, Caspian. What if we could choose who has what abilities? And how much? What if we could ensure the royal line maintains absolute authority through essence superiority?”

“You’re insane,” I breathe, but he continues as if I hadn’t spoken. I stare at the dark ceiling of my room, unable to keep down the anxiety over Ariella’s whereabouts. She’s not dead—I would feel it. But I do not think she’s okay, either. I need to get father to open these restraints.

“The adult subjects were too unstable. Their essence was too developed, too…resistant to transfer. But the young ones?” A genuine smile splits his face, and I feel nothing but rampant disgust at the movement. “Their essence is raw, malleable. Perfect for harvesting in small doses.”

My stomach hurts—this shouldn’t be happening. “And mother? Vespera? Do they know what you’re doing?”

Something soft flickers across his features; the first crack in his composed facade. “Your mother, well she doesn’t understand. None of them do. But they will, once we perfect the process.” He moves to stand at the foot of my bed, crossing his arms. “Which brings me to an important choice you need to make. ”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “A choice? You’ve rather eliminated those, have you not?”

“No, son. Despite my anger, you still have options. It seems I have a soft spot for my heir.” He grips the footboard, knuckles whitening before he continues in a venomous tone. “Will you persist in undermining everything I am building with that murderous whore? Or will you stand beside me—father and son—and help create the most powerful dynasty this realm has ever known?” He truly believes in what he’s doing.

It’s fucking nauseating.

For a moment, I consider playing along. Pretending to see his twisted logic, if only to buy time to figure out how to stop him. But then I remember Ariella’s face when we found that laboratory. The horror in her eyes at what my father had written in his journals. The way she immediately moved to protect me, even knowing she was outnumbered.

“The balance is failing,” I say instead. “The weather changes, gravity itself acting strange, plants withering before our eyes—can’t you see what your experiments are doing to the realm?”

He blinks at me, head tilting. “Balance? What are you talking about?”

“The Accord, father! Your tampering with essence is destroying it.” But even as I speak, I can see the words mean nothing to him. His eyes hold that same fervid gleam, focused solely on his grand vision of power .

“None of that matters,” he dismisses, though I’m not sure he understands. His eyes didn’t seem to recognize any of what I just said. “Once we perfect essence transfer, natural phenomena will be irrelevant. We’ll have the power to reshape things how we see fit.” Natural phenomena? He has no clue of what he’s doing to the realms.

I study him—this man who raised me, who taught me about duty and honor and protecting our people. There’s something wrong in his gaze now, something fractured in a way that I hadn’t noticed before. His entire being is consumed by this single-minded ideology, blind to everything else crumbling around him.

“You’re not well, father,” I placate, managing to lower my voice just enough that I hope he will listen. “Something’s happened to you. This isn’t—”

“Disappointing,” he cuts me off, straightening. “I had hoped you would see reason, but it seems the wraith’s influence runs deeper than I thought.” He strides toward the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “No matter. You’ll change your mind soon enough.”

“What does that mean? Father?” But he’s already gone, leaving me alone with the growing dread in my chest. "Thalion!" I scream, the effort useless.

Fuck!

I pull against the restraints again, my teeth grinding with the abysmal effort as metal scrapes my wrists raw. My essence feels strange. Muted. Whatever they injected us with must still be suppressing it, which is just my fucking luck. But through the dampening, there’s—what is that? A humming energy I’ve never felt before. Or maybe I have, but not like this. It’s familiar and strong, thrumming around one singular focus: Ariella.

I look to the window, eyeing the moon’s long shadows across my floor, mind racing. Where is he keeping her? What did he mean about me changing my mind? And perhaps most disturbing—why didn’t he know or care about the Accord when it’s clearly linked to everything happening?

I think back to when I was young, before the ever-present guards and political maneuvering. My father would take me riding and teach me about our family’s legacy of protecting the kingdom and its people. What happened to that man? When did he become this power-obsessed shell who sees nothing beyond his own ambitions?

The bindings cut deeper into my wrists as I twist them again, desperate for any give. Blood trickles down my hands, though I don't register the sting. My head spins with possibilities of where they could be keeping her, what they might be doing to her. Images of the lab flash through my thoughts…

I don’t want to admit it—I can’t—but there’s no doubt where my father has her.

I growl, letting my head fall back against the headboard. What kind of prince am I, tied up in my own bedroom while Ariella faces Angel knows what? She’d berate me for such self-pity, telling me to focus on finding a solution instead of sulking.

My laugh cuts through the unnervingly silent room at the thought of her sharp tongue and calculating eyes. When she became my vitality instead of a mere comfort I sought, I’m not sure. But even now, thinking of her centers me.

My eyes fall closed as a memory surfaces of our journey back from the Verdantia Forest—how she’d started opening up about her fears, not of death or pain, but of failing. She wouldn’t say more than that, but I know her. She thinks she failed Isaiah, just as I feel like I’ve failed the entire kingdom. She believes that her inability to save people from the impossible is a failure, so it’s clear that everything happening has weighed heavily on her. Especially after Meridian.

I’d shared my own doubts then, about living up to a crown I wasn’t certain I wanted anymore. She’d looked at me with those beautiful, discerning eyes and said, “Then make it into something worth wanting.”

The sound of boots in the hallway makes me jolt up, wincing at the unintentional tug of my wrists. Two sets of steps, heavy and measured—sentries changing shifts. Father must have posted them outside my door. I strain my ears, trying to catch any snippet of conversation that might hint at Ariella’s location, or my escape, though there's nothing but a maddening silence.

My eyes drift to the window again. The moon has shifted, far enough that I’m questioning things. How long have I been here? Hours? The essence-suppressing drug still muddles my strands and senses, making it difficult to gauge time. Though given that it is still dark out, Ariella and I have not been separated for very long. I flex my fingers, searching for even a hint of my aqua or kinetic strands, but there’s nothing. Just that strange new humming energy that seems to pulse in time with my heartbeat.

“Come on,” I mutter under my breath, closing my eyes to focus. The damn toxin has to let up at some point, but it’s as if my entire well has been locked away in shackles stronger than the ones holding my body down. But the energy in my chest is calming. It feels…different from my normal essence. Warmer somehow, more alive. Like it’s trying to reach for something—

Ariella would be laughing at me right now if she saw just how much I’m struggling. She probably has three different strands that could break these bindings in seconds, if she’s not overcoming the same toxin I am. The thought of her ire almost makes me smile, despite everything.

She’s taught me much about essence and combat, yet there’s still a considerable amount I do not understand. The woman wove the fucking luminal strand in the tunnels…it took me a while to process her possession of each affinity, but now I’m certain she also has each strand. A fully universal weaver—unheard of. Except for the first weaver, who was said to have the same abilities.