Page 92 of Essence of the Throne

“This will hurt,” she warns, echoing my thoughts, a heartbeat before my leg explodes in agony.

I bite back a scream as the bone snaps back into place. Her essence wraps around the break, knitting the pieces back together with meticulous care. It’s so strange, feeling it work as though it were my own—something I’ve also never experienced with other healers. Aside from a small prickle of heat at times, a healer’s essence should not be felt in any capacity.

The pain slowly fades to a dull ache, then disappears all at once, sweet fucking relief settling in my tense muscles.

But she doesn’t stop there—of course she doesn’t. Her essence continues its journey through my body, detecting and healing injuries I hadn’t even noticed. A cracked rib. Torn muscles in my shoulder. Countless bruises and small cuts. Each repair sends wave after wave of warmth through me until I feel more alive than I have in weeks.

Finally, the actual healing seems to stop, but her essence lingers. It swirls through me almost playfully, as if it’s found a new home and refuses to leave. I admit that I don’t want this connection to end, either.

Through our link, I notice Ariella’s similar reluctance. Her essence hums with contentment, like it’s discovered what it’s been searching for. The hint of a smile curves her lips before reality seems to startle her, and she yanks her essence back so violently that she sways.

“Careful, angel,” I assert, leaning to catch her shoulders as she starts to topple sideways. “Are you alright?”

Her eyes blink several times. “Fine. Did it work?”

“Yes, but…” I trail off, distracted by what I’m seeing. I tilt my head. Maybe it’s a trick of the light filtering in from the arena, but her hair seems to be illuminated. She adjusts, but the glow doesn’t change. No, it’s not just reflecting the light—it’s emitting a soft, silvery radiance. So similar to the brief moments after we’ve been intimate… “How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Your hair—it’s glowing. I’ve never seen a healer’s essence manifest visibly like that. Essence works inside the body, not out.”

She shrugs, though I notice she won’t quite meet my eyes. “No one else has silver hair or universal essence, either. It’s probably just that I have more essence than most people.”

I nod, though I’m not convinced. Everything in me screams to keep digging, that there’s something more to it…but she’s already pushing to her feet, ending the conversation.

“We should go,” she breathes, holding out a hand in offering. I grasp it, though bear no weight on her as I stand. “Your father may be dead, but we have a lot of shit to deal with.”

I hold her tighter, testing my healed leg. It feels perfect—better than before it was broken, even. “Thank you,” I say in a soft tone. “Not just for healing me, but for everything you did back there.” For saving me from becoming my father’s puppet. For giving me the strength to break free. For trusting me enough to try healing me when you’ve never done it before. “And for being you.”

She waves away the words with her hand, but I catch the softening in her eyes. “Don’t get sentimental on me now, prince. We have work to do.”

“I would never,” I tease, and can’t help but smile. Even after everything that’s happened, she’s still the same fierce, stubborn woman I fell for. “Lead the way, angel.”

Her eyes roll as she chuckles, spinning to walk through the tunnel while she practically drags me close behind. As we walk, I find myself watching the way her hair catches the dim light. There’s no trace now of that strange glow…

But I know what I saw.

Just like I know there was something different about the way her essence felt inside me. An instinct that went beyond simple healing. The memory of that connection makes me shiver, and I wonder if she feels it too—

Another thought slams to the forefront of my mind like a beacon of light. Is that related to what happened in my room when she bit me?

Even as I think it, I know it is.

I am desperate to know what it means, but she’s right—we have more pressing concerns. The Accord is priority, and we’re the only ones who know the truth about what’s happening. Whatever this thing is between us, it will have to wait.

My chest aches.

Still, as we emerge from the tunnel into the late afternoon sun, I hope we’ll have a chance to explore that connection again soon. I have a theory that we’ve only scratched the surface of what’s possible when our essence combines.

Ariella pauses at the tunnel entrance, her eyes scanning the area. Most of the crowd has dispersed, though guards still mill about, unsure of what to do now that their king is dead. My father has already been removed from the arena, and I feel absolutely fucking nothing as the staff carry his covered body toward the castle.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ariella

“You need to eat something,” Caspian insists as we make our way back toward the castle. My entire body aches, my vision has black spots in random places, and my feet tremble, but I ignore it all. I've no time for food—which is terribly depressing.

I tap a finger against my thigh as I consider everything that’s happened the last few days. Caspian died. He came back after I threatened the Angel. I found a headless fellow guild member. Was tortured by Thalion’s sentries—which reminds me that I need to find those two cowards. Then I followed some strange feeling to Caspian, finding him under his father’s complete control. Used my temporal strand. And killed a fucking king with his son by my side after weaving my temporal strand.

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