Page 46 of Essence of the Throne

Istare at the city walls of Valoria rising before us, my heart heavy with the weight of decisions yet unmade. The morning sun casts long shadows across the path, and I can’t shake the feeling that everything’s about to change.

“You’re brooding again.” Ariella’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Your face gets all scrunched up when you do that.”

I turn to her, drinking in the sight of her silver hair glinting in the sunlight. The past few days since leaving the Palmluvela have been…different. Quieter. More intimate in ways I never expected.

“Just thinking about my father.” The words taste bitter on my tongue. “About what choosing you over him means.” Shit—I should not have said that aloud.

She stops walking, her green eyes narrowing. “I never asked you to choose.”

“No, but we both know it’s coming.” I run a hand through my hair, frustration building in my chest. “He’s my father, Ariella. The king. Everything I am, everything I was raised to be, ties back to him. But when I look at what he’s done—to you, to others, that person in the library…”

“Then don’t choose.” Her voice is soft, but firm. “Walk away. Let me handle him.”

“And watch you die from his decisions?” The mere thought sends ice through my veins. “I’d rather burn his entire kingdom down.”

Something flashes in her eyes—surprise, maybe even fear. Not of me, but of what my words mean. What I’m willing to sacrifice.

“Caspian.” She steps closer, close enough that I can count the freckles dusting her nose. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” The truth of it is daunting. “Angel help me, I do. These past days with you…I’ve seen more humanity in one assassin than in all my father’s years of rule.”

She opens her mouth to respond, seeming defensive, but movement at the castle gates catches our attention. A crowd has gathered, their faces twisted with an anger I’ve never seen before.

Something is very wrong in Valoria.

The crowd’s shouts grow louder as we near the gates. I shift closer to Ariella, though she’s undoubtedly more capable of handling any threat than I am. Her fingers brush against mine—a warning or reassurance, I’m not quite sure.

“Death to the king! Death to the royals!” Someone screams from within the mass of people. My jaw clenches as the cry is taken up by others, the sound echoing off Valoria’s walls.

“Well,” Ariella mutters, “seems like your decision might be easier than you thought.”

I shoot her a look, but there’s no humor in her eyes. Just that calculated intensity she gets when she’s analyzing a situation. Her hand rests on one of her blades—not drawing it, but ready.

“What happened while we were gone? It hasn't even been two weeks?” I ask no one in particular, scanning the faces before us. These aren’t the usual inciters or drunk idiots. I spot merchants, craftsmen, even a few nobles among them.

A rock sails through the air, striking one of the guards. He stumbles back, blood trickling from his forehead. Before his companion can react, more stones follow.

“We need to get inside,” I say, grabbing Ariella’s arm. She doesn’t resist as I pull us toward a side entrance I used to sneak out of as a child. The guard stationed there recognizes me immediately, his eyes widening at the sight of the wraith by my side.

“Your Highness! Thank the Angel—your father has been demanding your return.”

“What’s happening?” I question, but he just shakes his head.

“It’s not my place to say, but things have changed since you left. The king, he’s…” The man swallows hard. “You should see for yourself.”

I feel Ariella tense beside me. Whatever is waiting inside those walls, I know one thing with absolute certainty: neither of us will face it alone. Not anymore.

I step through the side entrance, the familiar musty scent of the castle’s stone walls affecting me differently now. Each one seems to hold secrets I was too naïveto see before.

“Your father’s in the throne room,” the guard offers, his eyes darting between Ariella and me.

I nod, though my feet refuse to move. The wraith beside me radiates a deadly calm that makes even the guard take an unconscious step back. Her wary eyes scan our surroundings with predatory focus.

A commotion from the main hall draws our attention. The shouts from outside have penetrated the castle walls, their anger seeping through stone like poison.

“I should go to him,” I say, though every instinct screams otherwise.

“And what if I told you no?” Her lips quirk up in the slightest.

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