Page 94 of Essence of the Throne

His jaw tightens, widening the muscles that flex under my weapon. “I would die for him,” he says, his voice trembling but steady.

“Great. Then do it quietly.” Caspian shifts in my peripheral, and I peer at him before focusing on the man who betrayed him once more. “Because if you pull another stunt like this, I’ll save you the effort.”

We glare at each other, so close our chests rise and fall against each other. For a moment, I catch something in his eyes—a crack in his defiance. Something raw.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt him,” he whispers. “You don’t have to believe me, but it’s the truth.”

I hesitate for the briefest heartbeat before shoving off him, sheathing the blade over my left thigh. The weight is comforting. “Your truth means nothing to me, Gavriel. Fix yourself before you try to fix him.”

His eyes fall to the ground as he nods, swallowing hard before stepping aside. I return to Caspian, who’s breathing heavily as sweat beads along his forehead.

“Up we go, prince.” I wrap his arm over my shoulder and grab his waist to hoist him up. Despite his protests, his body sags against mine.

Behind us, I hear Gavriel whisper, almost too soft to catch. “I’d never let him fall.”

I don’t bother turning around, but the words stick in my head longer than I’d like to admit.

“I can walk,” he mumbles, though his feet drag. “But it’s unreasonably attractive that you can carry me.”

I laugh before I can stop it, trying not to think about how natural it feels to support his weight. “Shut up before I drop you.”

We reach his room, and I deposit him onto his bed as gently as possible. It's not a moment before he sinks into a deep sleep, and something in my chest tightens at how vulnerable he looks. Turning, my jaw clenches as I reach for my umbral strand and weave as strong of wards as I can manage across the door. And what a fucking effort it is—I need to train more.

“I’m going to shower,” I announce to an unconscious prince when I’m done, needing space from the confusing mix ofprotectiveness and uncertainty swirling through me. He grunts in response, making me chuckle.

The hot water helps ease some tension from my muscles, but my mind races. I should leave—put distance between us and focus on finding the artifacts. But the thought of walking away while he’s in this state makes me physically ill.

No, that’s a lie. What makes me ill is the thought of being separated from him in any capacity. Even now, just a room apart, the pain and sluggishness I’ve been able to fend off are overtaking my body, and somehow I know the only way to rid myself of such ailments is to be near him.

Scoffing, I turn off the shower and dry myself. At some point, I’ve stopped making excuses to stay away from him and started hoping there were reasons for me to stay.

But I do not need any reason other than it’s what I want.

When I emerge, he appears to be sleeping. I hesitate before slipping into one of his shirts, removing his outer layer of clothes, and crawling into bed beside him. I’m careful to keep distance between us, though it pains me to do so.

“Just until morning,” I whisper to myself. “Then we figure out our next move.”

Sleep claims me, my exhausted body finally giving in to rest. The last thing I register is the familiar warmth of my shadows curling protectively around us both, despite my lack of call for them.

Warmth caresses my face, stirring me from a peaceful sleep. My eyes flutter open to find Caspian studying me with a warm fondness, his gaze holding an unnerving amount of tenderness. I should move away—establish boundaries or some shit like that—but my body refuses to listen.

“You stayed.” His voice is rough with sleep, yet somehow still manages to sound charming and pleased.

My eyes roll on their own. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he mocks with a smirk, trailing his fingers down my arm. “And wearing my shirt again…I’m beginning to think you like them, angel.”

“They’re comfortable.” I try to sound dismissive, but it's a miserable attempt as his hand slides to my hip. Our bodies are so close, yet I do not feel the need to run from the intimacy. “How are you feeling?”

His features darken as his hand squeezes my hip. “Like my father invaded my mind and forced me to try killing you.” He pauses, swallowing, a glimmer of panic flashing through his eyes. “I could see everything happening—everything, Ariella. But couldn’t stop myself. I’ve never feltso fucking helpless.”

“But you fought it.” I prop myself up on an elbow, needing him to understand as I meet his eye level. “I saw you resisting him…that’s why I knew my plan would work.”

“Your plan to use your temporal strand?” His eyes narrow. “The one you conveniently failed to mention you possessed?”

I shrug, though heat creeps up my neck. “You failed to ask.”

He laughs, the sound warming parts of me I didn’t realize were cold. “You’re an impossible woman.” His hand slides up my side, fingers ghosting over my ribs. “What other strands are you hiding from me?”

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