Page 89 of Essence of the Throne

I close my eyes to the man whose blade wavers against my throat, allowing memories of him to wash over me. His stupid smirk when he thinks he’s being clever. The way his hands feel tangled in my hair. The sensation of his lips pressed against mine. How he sees past my carefully constructed armor to the dark, broken pieces underneath, yet wants me anyway.

When I open them again, determination floods my every vein. I may be the most feared assassin in the realm, but right now I’m just a woman trying to save the man she loves.

And I will save him, even if it destroys me in the process.

I study his face one last time, savoring those beautiful silver eyes, committing it all to memory. Then I sink deep within myself, grasping my temporal strand with everything I have left, and hope my body’s overuse of essence doesn’t kill me before I see him again.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe.

And then I run.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Caspian

My screams bounce around inside my head, thrashing against invisible bonds that keep my consciousness trapped while my body moves against my will. Every muscle burns from fighting my father’s control, but the essence flooding my system is too strong. All I can do is watch in mute horror as my blade slices into Ariella’s skin again.

And again.

My father’s essence twists inside me like poison, more insidious than anything I’ve ever felt. He didn’t just steal too much of it—he learned how to manipulate it, forcing it into me in a way that lets him control my every move. It’s as if his will has replaced my own, spreading through my body like a puppeteer tugging at invisible strings.

Stop. Please stop.But my arms don’t listen. They continue their deadly motions, carving shallow wounds across her flesh while she simply…stands there. Taking it. The Silver Wraith, my feared angel, isn’t even trying to defend herself.

I’m sick to my fucking stomach. This cannot be happening…

Fight back!I want to scream.Kill me and run!But my lips remain sealed, my voice and body locked away by my father’s essence. I'm unable to do anything but stare through eyes I can’t control as blood oozes from her wounds.

“Fight back, wraith, or I’ll have the prince make your death excruciating!” My father’s voice booms through the arena. The crowd’s ferocious roars grow louder, but Ariella doesn’t react. She keeps those piercing, viridescent eyes fixed on mine, searching for something.

For me.

I throw everything I have against my father’s hold, desperate to break free. To drop the blade. To tell her I’m here. That I see her. That I’m so fucking sorry. But the essence binding me tightens its grip, sending waves of burning agony through my veins. The pain in my leg isnothingcompared to the torture of my mind in this moment.

“Look at me,” she whispers, her voice carrying despite the crowd’s frenzy. “Really look at me, Caspian.”

Something shifts in her eyes then—walls dropping away to reveal everything she usually keeps hidden. Fear. Rage. A bone-deep exhaustion. But underneath it all, more than that. My heart stutters at the sight, even through my father’s control.

My next strike falters for just a heartbeat. Not much, but enough that I know she noticed. A tiny crack in my father’s hold. Hope flares in my chest, giving me renewed strength to fight.

“Caspian…” Her voice cracks, and Angel help me, I’ve never heard her sound so broken—not even after mydeath. “If this doesn’t work, if it kills me, I’m sorry. For everything. For pushing you away, for being too afraid to admit what you already knew.” She draws a shaky breath. “For not telling you what you deserved to know.”

My blade hovers along her throat as terror flickers through the haze. I can feel her pulse fluttering against the steel. So alive. So fragile. One wrong move and she's gone.

No.I rail against my father’s essence with everything I have, and my arms begin trembling from the war. I will not be the weapon that ends her. I refuse.

The crowd’s screams crescendo as the king laughs, the horrid sound resonating off each point of the arena walls. “Finish her, my son! Show everyone the price of treason against the crown!”

I want to vomit. Want to spin and drive this blade through his black heart instead. But my body remains frozen, pressed against the woman who means everything to me.

Ariella’s eyes close briefly, and when they open again, there’s a fierce determination burning in their depths. She studies my face like she’s afraid she’ll never see it again. Then her expression hardens, resolve flooding her eyes—a decision made.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes.

Before I can process what’s happening, she twists around and sprints toward the royal box where my father watches. For a moment, blessed relief floods me—she’s fighting back. But then my legs give chase without my permission, the broken one seeming to pretend it’s fully functional even through the pain. And though I still resist it, my father’s stolen essence forces me to pursue againstevery bit of my will. I give everything to stopping my legs, but I cannot even determine the direction my eyes look. I’m fucking trapped in my own body.

I’ll never forgive myself if I kill her.

The arena stretches vast before us as we run. Despite her injuries, despite whatever they did to suppress her essence, she’s still impossibly fast. But my father’s enhancements force me faster still, closing the distance between us with each stride.

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