Page 11 of Essence of the Throne

My mind races as I attempt to make sense of whatever the fuck this is. Is it connected to the sounds Gavriel heard in the tunnels? To the Accord? To my parents’ warnings? There are too many questions and not enough answers.

And I’m beginning to get fucking irritated about it.

The wrongness I felt when my essence touched it reminds me of the corruption I’ve encountered before in the throne room, but this…this is different. More potent. More needy.

A memory flashes through my mind—my mother’s face, twisted with fear as she whispered to my father about the balance being disturbed. How they had thought I was sleeping, but I had already been listening for minutes after sinking to the floor from their frightening conversation. Chaos. The word that had repeated inmy head for days after hearing them speak. Disappointing that I had not connected this memory before now.

But was this what she meant? Perhaps this is the consequence of the balance or Accord being endangered.

There is a shift in the air, and in one fluid motion, I spin and fling my blade down the aisle, right in between the eyes of—

“What the fuck is that?” Caspian’s words echo the stall in my thoughts.

I walk forward slowly as the creature’s distorted form twists and writhes in pain, its limbs elongated and its skin a sickly yellow. It shudders before falling still, allowing me to study its strange form.

It may be dark in this part of the library, but I am unfortunately able to make out what I’m seeing. The creature is a strange amalgamation of human and…something I do not understand. There are mismatched limbs jutting at odd angles and bright red veins pulsing underneath its near-translucent skin. Its eyes are wild and unseeing, glowing with the same frenzied energy I felt minutes ago.

I crouch next to it, covering my nose as the scent of burnt flesh and blood fills the air. I can only describe the revolting smell as living rot—something that’s not quite dead, but should be.

Even through each uncanny difference, it's obvious this being was human at one point. Everything about it defies explanation. Whatever it is, I can’t shake the sense that its purpose wasn’t to harm Caspian.

Caspian steps closer, stopping next to me as I look up at the horror settling on his features. “Is this…was this a person?” My only response is a nod.

My head whirls at his sharp intake of breath. I turn to see him clutching his arm as a dark stain spreads across his sleeve.

“You’re hurt.” Without thinking, I jump to my feet and grab the lower part of his arm. My forehead creases as I inspect the wound. A clean slice, matching the small blade Caspian holds in his hand. Not one of mine, nor his, so the creature must have thrown it before I cut off its life.

I’m unsure of how to proceed. The wound is deep enough that it needs attention, that much is obvious. And I should be able to heal him with my living affinity…but I’ve never used my vital strand to heal anyone other than myself. I’d be nothing but an embarrassment to the Angel’s will if I attempted to heal him.

Pathetic fucking excuse, but I swipe the thought away and make a decision.

“We need—” I pause with my mouth open when I catch the prince’s eye. He’s staring at me with a fondness I do not deserve. I sigh, because of course I let him see my worry. Clearing my throat, I release his arm and step back. “We need to get you to Elowen.”

The slightest hint of pain flashes through his gaze before his face hardens, and he nods to the creature. “Let’s burn the body—we’ll find nothing we haven’t already gathered, and we cannot leave it here for my father to find. The more he believes us ignorant of him, the better.”

I raise a brow at the hardness of his tone, but do not stop to question his command. Reaching for my pyro strand, I coax the neglected essence out, demanding it to destroy the body and leave no trace before spinning to stalk from the library.

I do not bother to check if Caspian is following—there’s never been a need to. I realize, with a chilling certainty, that he will always be right behind me with unwavering loyalty. The thought is more relieving than it should be.

Chapter Three

Caspian

Ifollow Ariella through the winding corridors, my arm throbbing with each step. The wound isn’t as deep as she believes, but it stings like a bitch. I can’t shake the image of that…thingwe found in the library. What was it? What has my father done?

Ariella moves with purpose, her steps quick and sure. I notice the tension in her shoulders, the way her finger taps against her blade—a nervous habit, I’ve surmised. She’s on high alert, scanning every shadow we pass.

The little wraithcaresfor me. The thought lightens my souring mood.

“You don’t have to worry so much,” I tease, trying to getsomethingfrom her. I’m fucking tired of her ignoring her feelings and pushing me away as a result. “I am not going to keel over from a minor cut.”

She doesn’t turn, but I watch as her shoulders stiffen further. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not worried about you.”

I can’t help but smile. Even now, she maintains her prickly facade. But I saw the concern in her eyes…fleeting, but very much there.

We round another corner, and I find myself studying the graceful curve of her neck, the way her silver hair catches the dim light. She’s beautiful, dangerously so, and I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame. I know I should be more cautious, more guarded, but I cannot help the way my heart races when she’s near. Nor can I lessen the intensity of emotion under my skin, begging me to stay near her and keep her safe from anyone that would dare harm her.

I would do anything for her—anything.

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