Page 64 of Essence of the Throne

I’ve read about the oceans. Seen paintings. Heard vague descriptions from listening to random conversations in Valoria. But nothing prepared me for this.

Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve dismounted and walked toward the top of the hill. The city of Meridian sprawls below, a web of white stone buildings that glint like pearls under the afternoon sun. Narrow streets weave between them, bustling withlife even from this distance. Vibrant market canopies in shades of red, gold, and green create splashes of color, while thin spirals of smoke rise leisurely from chimneys.

Beyond the city, the Ebelan Ocean stretches out in shimmering shades of blue, so vast and endless it feels like it could swallow the horizon—possibly the whole damn realm. Short waves catch the sunlight, while a few distant ships appear as mere specks against the measureless expanse.

“First time seeing the ocean?” Caspian asks, appearing at my side.

“Is it that obvious?” I catch his eye before he focuses on the view before us.

He smiles but doesn’t tease, and I find myself smiling back. I’ve spent my entire life absorbed in one goal: kill the king. I never paused my endless rage to consider what else might exist beyond the boundaries of Valoria. What other wonders I might have missed while plotting my revenge.

“I’ll take the horses to the stables,” he says after a moment. “Take your time.” He gives me no opportunity to respond before guiding the horses just below the top of the hill, where the stables sit pristine and lonely.

I should protest—we have work to do. But I can’t tear my eyes away from the endless blue. A few more minutes won’t hurt.

The ocean stretches beyond the horizon, unbroken and alive, a restless mirror of the bright blue sky. My breath stalls at the sheer vastness of it. I catch the glint of a ship in the distance and cringe inwardly. I do not fear much, but after seeing the ocean myself,I do not think I could travel through it—I’d be a constant mess, worrying that the water might swallow me whole.

The rhythmic crash of waves against the shore and docks carries up the hill, and my eyes slide shut as I allow the soft sounds to calm the pressure pushing against my chest wall.

It’s overwhelming, this immensity, this idea of boundless freedom that I’ve never known. I thrive from having the answers and abiding by a routine, but I get the sense that it would be so freeing to just dive into the water and allow it to carry my body wherever it sees fit. It’s only now that I realize that Iwantto let go. I need something—or someone—to take control of my body so that I may exist without the weight of everyone else’s decisions for once in my fucking life.

I don’t know if that revelation terrifies me, or if I’d truly be willing to relinquish control.

Scanning the city below, I watch the docks as they are a chaotic maze of wooden piers and shouting merchants. Even from here, the air is thick with the smell of fish, spices, and tar.

When Caspian returns, I follow him down the large hill and into the city proper. Everything hums with life, a mix of sun-bleached walls and dark brick buildings pressed close together. Fishing nets hang to dry, and the scent of saltwater blends with olive oil and spices. Boats painted in vibrant hues bob gently in the harbor, their masts swaying against the breeze. The streets are narrow and winding, buildings pressed close together with laundry strung between them. But unlike Valoria, where people scatter at the sight of my silver hair, the residents here merely stare.Some whisper with wide eyes, but there’s more curiosity than fear in their gazes.

“I think they like you,” Caspian observes after leaning over to speak against my ear.

Something intense snakes down my spine, and I dampen my reaction, instead forcing a smirk as I snort. “Give it time.”

My stomach growls, reminding me we haven’t eaten since before leaving the castle. I didn’t care to bring any food as the trip here is short, but I may be regretting it just a little now as I’m quite hungry. A nearby stall is selling some kind of fried fish that makes my mouth water, and my feet saunter over before I can stop them. I reach for a pouch of coins in my pack—still well-stocked from years of assignments and the competition winnings. I’ve never been one for luxuries, preferring to save my earnings for weapons and practical necessities.

“Three,” I tell the vendor as I step up to the stall and drop coppers into his weathered palm. His eyes scrutinize the color of my hair, but he wisely doesn’t comment.

I hand Caspian his cup before tossing the other one over my shoulder to a mumbling guard. So ungrateful.

I pinch a piece of fish, not caring to ask what it is before dropping it into my mouth. I moan from the flavor bursting over my taste buds, eliciting looks from more than just the prince. I wink at him, ignoring his chuckle before considering the city once more.

“Where do we start?” Gavriel asks around a mouthful of fish. He’s still shifting frequently, looking more on edge with each passing hour. We’re all exhausted, it seems.

They both turn to me with expectant gazes. I wipe grease from my fingers, considering. “The guild first. Ally claimed she was from there, so I want to find out what they know.”

I scan the busy street, focusing on finding any sign of the guild. I’m told the one in Meridian is far more secretive than the one in Valoria, and I doubt locals know what building it is. We walk for a while as I search and Caspian attempts to recall anything he knows about the city's politics.

Something catches my eye. “It’s that one,” I mutter, gesturing to a narrow three-story structure wedged between what appears to be a dress shop and an armory. Interesting placement.

Dark green vines climb the brick facade, while weather-worn wooden signs swing above multiple shop entrances. The building looks unremarkable, which I suppose is the point. It is also quite small, which was unexpected—I assume there’s hidden areas of the guild, likely underground, unless they have no room for training.

“How can you tell?” Caspian questions in a thoughtful tone, stepping closer until his arm brushes mine.

I roll my eyes. “The sigil.” I point to a barely visible mark etched into the cornerstone—three crossed daggers. “Every guild has one, though it’s never mentioned to outsiders.”

We cross the street, and I am quite thankful for my appearance at the moment; the crowd is so thick, everyperson touches another, but they each have the sense to move from my path. Sometimes it’s pleasing to be me.

The strong scent of fish and salt follows us as we enter the building through a plain wooden door.

The interior is insignificant, dimly lit and musty, with shelves of ordinary merchandise lining the walls. Why the secrecy? It doesn’t make sense to me. A young woman sits behind a wooden counter, methodically polishing what appears to be a decorative blade. She doesn’t look up.

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