Page 99 of Essence of the Throne

My lungs inhale to capacity, attempting to slow my heart and calm my racing thoughts. Salt. My nose scrunches as I take another breath. Not for this first time this week am I wondering how the fuck that’s possible. We’re nowhere near the coast, yet the distinct scent of ocean air drifts through the courtyard.

Seraphina’s voice carries across the hushed gathering as she describes Thalion’sdedication to progress. Progress. Is that what we’re calling torture and murder now? The king and I may not be so different, but I’ve never hidden who I am—nor have I done such things for power. Sometimes for fun, though…depends on the assignment. My thoughts turn, and I struggle to refocus them. I’ve no wish to think about Marek, the guild, or my lack of communication with them.

Listening to the queen's forced words, my fingers twitch toward my blade, but I force them still. The queen may be full of shit, but she’s not my target.

I have bigger problems.

My gaze slides to her as she continues speaking, studying her mannerisms more carefully now. After what Varrick said…I’ve no reason to trust the bastard, but there’s something calculated in the way Seraphina holds herself. Too poised, too controlled. Some may excuse the mannerisms as appropriate for a queen, but I know better.

Because I wear the same masks.

Her eyes remain dry despite speaking of her dead husband. When she mentions how hestrived to strengthen the kingdom, her fingers drum once against the podium—a tell, perhaps?

“You’re staring,” Caspian whispers, his breath warm against my ear. I don’t look his direction, but my skin tingles at his proximity.

“Your mother is hiding something.” The words are barely audible, meant only for him. We’re standing to the side of the queen, where the crowd can drink us in at their leisure. I’m conscious ofthe dozens of people who whisper about the Silver Wraith and their prince. What are they doing together? Has she threatened him? You mean to tell meshe’shis guard?

His body stiffens, leaning just a hair closer. “What makes you say that?”

“Experience.” I pause as the crowd murmurs in response to something Seraphina said. “People who have nothing to hide don’t work so hard to appear innocent.”

His chest expands with a deep breath as his fingers curl before he stops himself from whatever he wishes to do. “We can discuss this later.”Yes, master.

I choke, running a hand over my lips to cover the cough. I’m going to tell myself that was sarcasm and forget about it.

Regardless of his thoughts, the nagging feeling about Seraphina won’t leave me. I know when to trust my instincts—they’ve kept me alive this long. Still, we have more pressing concerns.

The artifacts. The Accord. Our realms falling into devastating mayhem.

That same word keeps echoing in my head:chaos.Chaos. Chaos. That’s what awaits us if we fail. I’m not sure what that indicates, but the urgency in Eris’ and my mother’s voices told me everything I needed to know. We’ve little time left.

The pressure in my chest increases, making it difficult to breathe normally. My hands clench at my sides as I try to identify the sensation. It’s like the air itself is growing heavier, pressing in from all sides.

“Do you feel that?” I mutter to Caspian, dragging my eyes away from the audience and toward him. He has a strained expression on his face, much like the one I’m wearing.

His silver eyes meet mine briefly before he mutters confirmation.

At least I’m not imagining it—though it does not reassure me that he knew exactly what I was asking about. The crowd shifts, restless, an unusual amount of people clearing their throats. Even Seraphina pauses in her speech, her gaze darting to the sky before she offers the people a wide smile and continues with practiced smoothness.

I scan our surroundings, noting escape routes out of habit. The courtyard is full—nobles, castle staff, and city residents all gathered tocommemoratetheir king. The irony isn’t lost on me. I’d pay a good fortune to know how many of them had privately celebrated when news of his death spread.

There's a shift in my peripheral, and I spot Gavriel lurking at the edge of the crowd. His dark eyes are fixed on Caspian with an intensity that has my jaw clenching. That’s another problem we’ll need to deal with eventually—it'd be much easier to just kill him and be done with it.

The weight in the air grows stronger, and I have to make a conscious effort to keep my breathing steady. Which is excruciatingly difficult, as it feels like what I imagine drowning to be. Something builds—in the atmosphere, in my chest, in my very essence. Like the calm before a devastating storm.

“We need to leave,” I insist in a loud whisper, but Caspian shakes his head.

“We can’t. Not until her speech is over.”

A sound tears through the air, so piercing I swear my skull is a second from splitting open. My legs give out as I drop to my knees, hands clasped over my ears, but it does fucking nothing to block out the horrific noise. All around me, others do the same, their screams lost to the deafening shriek.

Through the agonizing uproar, I force my eyes open, immediately drawn to the scene above us. The sky…fuck me.

A jagged line splits the pale blue expanse, like a crack in glass. But instead of more sky behind it, there’s…color? A void of swirling purples, pinks, and blues that seem to pulse with an otherworldly energy. My essence responds, surging toward it as if drawn by some primal force.

“Ariella!” Caspian’s voice struggles to reach me through the tearing above. The sky is actuallytearing—it’s mimicking that of ripped fabric.

The prince’s hand grips my arm, and I allow him to pull me to my feet despite my instinct to shove him away. The crushing pressure in my chest has become almost unbearable. I feel like my organs are going to explode before seeping through every orifice in my body.

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