Page 43 of Essence of the Throne

The blood drains from my face. “How much time do we have?”

“Barely any. You must stop whatever is weakening the balance; then follow the necessary steps to forge a new Accord, using what you were shown in the vision of the first Accord. There won’t be time otherwise.”

Questions flood my mind, but Eris raises a hand. “I cannot tell you more. Those answers would destroy the only path that leads to restoration.”

“Then at least tell me what happens if we’re too late,” I demand. “If the Accord dies?”

Eris’s expression darkens before they utter something I did not wish to hear again. “Chaos.”

Chapter Fourteen

Ariella

Ipull over the soft fabric of the new top with confident hands, adjusting it as best I can—it is surprisingly small and will expose my breasts if I’m not careful. The material clings to my skin in a way that’s more intimate than comforting, the cool silk emphasizing just how exposed I am.

The low neckline and the high slits of the skirt weren’t what I expected, and I almost laugh at the irony.An assassin's body draped in seduction.I don’t know whether to feel empowered or objectified.

Caspian had lingered in the doorway before leaving, his gaze caught on the revealing outfit before I told him it was fine to go ahead. I needed space, and he seemed to understand without my having to say, though there was a glimmer of something in his eyes—concern, perhaps, or maybe something darker as I had just described the vision to him. How the realm felt up and down, twisted into exactly as I imagine chaos to be. The artifacts that felt so important in that body—Aris' body. Significant enough that I considered my life theirs and the Accord's.

I shake off the thought and turn to the mirror, studying my reflection.

The vision lingers, refusing to be pushed aside. Every detail of it—the twisted strands of essence, Caelum's bloodied expression, the monstrous shard that ended him—is etched into my mind like a scar. I feel raw, as if the very air around me could slice open wounds that haven’t healed. The words from the ritual still echo through my head, a relentless nuisance that scratches at the back of my skull.

Eris’ena ethra ulthira, sey’enya varan’dai élum. Ariseth velura, éna na’yris.

I lean forward, bracing myself against the small table beside me, my body tired. I feel caught between realms—tethered here in the physical but haunted by the Aether. The vision was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. Even possessing the entire ethereal affinity, having visions is not guaranteed and even more rare than the essence itself. This one wastoo real. I felt the heat, the pain, the crushing despair.

And Caelum's eyes—Angel, his eyes. So familiar I’m not sure I’ll ever look at Caspian the same way again.

My hands clench into fists, nails digging into the wood, creating damage I’d care about if I was a better person. Every truth Eris gave is a weight I’m not ready to carry. I keep trying to tell myself it was just a vision, only words that the Seer says are important, that none of it was real. But deep down, I know better. I doubt the Angel offers empty warnings. Actually, I'm surprised it would offer me anything at all.

I release a slow, unsteady breath and move to the bed. The ornate blade they gave me sits on theedge, a token of honor for tonight’s gathering. I grab it, appreciating its familiar heft. A weapon is at least something I understand. The rest—the vision, the Seer’s cryptic words, and whatever thisparty in our honoris supposed to mean—feels like one massive manipulation. A farce to waste my fucking time.

Who are these people? And why do they know so much?

I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being pulled into a game I don’t fully understand. Something else I need to adapt to, lest both realms collapse at my inability to get it together.

I take one last look in the mirror, straightening my spine. The soft silk flows down my form, its hue shifting with the light. I may be exposed, but it feels right. Like armor now—at least to those who might underestimate me. I can still wield a blade, nude or not.

I harden my gaze as I turn toward the door, swallowing thickly from the strange weight of the night ahead that’s pressing down on me. I might not know what’s coming, but at least I’ll face it head-on.

Walking through the city is a different experience at night. There are no lights to guide, but the flowers placed in each garden emit a soft glow, providing just enough for me to navigate. I slow my feet in between gardens, breathing in the sweet air. It’s peaceful—especially as the Palmluvela are at the edge of their city, where the gathering is being held.

How grating it is that my first urge in experiencing something like this is to wonder what Caspian would think. How it would feel to experience it with him.

Fuck’s sake, I’m far too attached.

And he’s right…I can fight these emotions all I want, but we both know the genuine truth.

My feet speed up, leaving behind those pathetic thoughts. I just wish to get this party over with, then leave in the morning. We have much to do, and according to the Seer, such little time that I’m nervous to waste even the smallest amount doing anything but what’s needed of us.

Light flickers ahead, becoming brighter as I walk, and the sounds of music and chatter increase. I stride down the path I assume leads to the party through these trees, my breath catching at the hundreds of luminescent flowers lining it. This city is beautiful.

Through the thick of the trees, I finally spot the fire, but pause as I’m about to leave the safety of the shadows when I hear a familiar chuckle.

“What’s it like to be the prince? I mean, you must have people fawning over you all the time.” If I thought I was annoyed before, the heat spreading through my veins tells me my mood is about to become much worse.

I peek around the trunk of a tree to see two women dressed much like me, standing in front of Caspian with pathetic stars in their eyes.

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