Page 81 of Essence of the Throne

We glare at each other for several tense moments before I lower my blade while cursing his ancestors. “You’re an insufferably stubborn prince.”

“And you’re an impossibly reckless assassin. Now, shall we?” He’s lucky I do not wish to tie him to my bed—though that may not be the worst idea…

Getting to the tunnels proves simpler than expected. The royal guards are sparse, which only heightens my suspicion. We traverse staff passages until reaching the south entrance Gavriel mentioned a while ago.

I grab Caspian’s arm before he can move forward, tight enough to bruise him, but that is a fleeting thought as the intensity of what we’re about to do slams into me. “Listen to me. Stay silent, hold on to me at all times, and doexactlyas I say without question. Understood?”

He nods without protest, which is somehow more unsettling than if he’d argued.

The tunnel entrance creaks softly as we descend into darkness. Though this is a different area than I was taken to for the first trial, memories of my last visit here flood back—the constant feeling of being watched, breath on my neck. I hate to admit it, but these tunnels fucking scared me and I did not want to come back here.

I weave my fingers through his—as if I’d ever risk losing him here—and quiet my breath.

We walk slow, hesitant, for a moment, and are maybe fifty feet in when I hear it—a raspy inhale that isn’t ours. I shove Caspian against the wall, covering his mouth with my hand and his body with mine. Something moves in the darkness ahead, making wet, gurgling sounds that raise the hair on my arms. What the fuck? I press against Caspian until our foreheads touch as these tunnels are far too thin for my liking, and attempt to determine the creature’s size from its movements. I’m unsure if using my essence will do more harm than good at the moment, so I rely on my conditioned senses.

Just over six feet tall based on the direction of sound, nearly reaching me at ear-level. It’s heavy but unsteady gait suggests significant mass but poor coordination, as if it’s just limping idly through the darkness. I do not believe it can detect us in any manner, as its stride and breathing hasn’t changed. If I’m to guess, this is the same kind of being that harmed Caspian in the library, so it may have a weapon, but I do not believe it's any more dangerous than any baser instincts it still possesses.

My fingers hover over my thigh as I wait until the thing is nearly upon us before striking.

My blade finds its mark as I simultaneously tug on my luminal strand, filling the space with pale light. Caspian’s sharp intake of breath reminds me he didn’t know about that particular ability.

But any questions die on his lips as we see what I’ve struck down. I recognize him immediately—Obren, one of the quietercompetitors from the trials. But he’s wrong. His skin is mottled with bleached veins that spider across his flesh like lightning, all stemming from the center of his chest.Like Jaxon’s essence device, I realize. The outer edges of his limbs appear burned, blackened and crumbling.

I reach for my psionic strand, sending out a pulse to gauge the now-dead creature. I gasp, the severe feedback nearly knocking me over.

“What is it?” Caspian whispers.

“Essence. So much essence.” I steady myself against the wall. “This is definitely one of your father’s experiments.”

Caspian scoffs, regarding the light in my hand once more but not commenting.

We press on while I continue to weave my luminal strand, checking each room we come across. Nothing. Nothing.Nothing.

We turn corners that lead deeper into the tunnels, the walls closing in the further we go. There are no more creatures, no sounds, just…nothing. What am I missing?

The answer comes by accident as the lightest of drafts catches my attention—impossible this deep underground unless there’s another passage. I lead us to a section that appears to be some kind of addition to the labyrinth. We step into the hallway and hairs rise along my arms and neck. This is the place we’re looking for; I can feel thewrongnessof it.

There is one door at the end, made of heavy steel and an oversized latch. I hesitate for a moment, but I’m positive I can protectCaspian if there’s something beyond this point that attempts to kill us. Yanking the door open, I pause at the lab that greets us. My eyes scan the space, and fuck if it isn’t something straight from a nightmare.

A viewing room overlooks what can only be described as a torture chamber. Notebooks filled with diminutive writing and meticulous observations are sprawled across a large desk. I pick one up, my stomach clenching at the detail.

The king describes how children possess far less essence than adults, and it is more malleable, making it easier to transfer and manipulate. After conducting experiments on the strongest of adults—the assassins from the competition—Thalion concluded that a body can only ingest a small amount of foreign essence at a time. Notes on the side mention how they cannot control how much essence leaves a person's body, so taking it from adults would end up being fatal to him.

But children…they have but trace amounts in their bodies, just enough to be safely consumed by the king in increments.

Their natural innocence makes them perfect vessels for harvest.

But where are they? The lab is empty save for one chair below. My stomach turns as I approach the window. The body strapped there is headless, but I’d recognize those clothes anywhere. They were next to me the day the competition began.

“Raine,” I whisper. The third student from my guild. His rotting flesh rests motionless in the chair, and my lip curls at the gaping hole in his chest.

“We need to go,” Caspian says, his tone urgent as he grabs my hand and reaches for the notebook. “We have enough—”

“Indeed, you do.”

We both whirl to find the king flanked by Varrick and at least a dozen guards blocking the hall behind them. How were their movements devoid of any perceptible noise?

Blades are in my hands before my next heartbeat.

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