Page 47 of Essence of the Throne

“You know I would, anyway.”

“Yes.” The single word carries more weight than it should.

We move through the corridors, passing staff who flatten themselves against walls to avoid us. Their fear isn’t wholly directed at the notorious Silver Wraith for once—their eyes are fixed on me.

“They truly love reminding themselves of what I am,” Ariella states, winking at a woman who just dropped her basket at the sight of us.

I can’t help but smile, despite everything. “As do I. But unlike them, I love your temper and murderous nature, angel.”

Her eyes narrow at the endearment, but there’s something else there, too. Something that makes my heart race faster than any blade of hers at my throat ever could.

The throne room doors loom before us, and I take a steadying breath, stretching my neck before nodding to the stationed sentry. Something in my gut tells me that whatever is waiting for us beyond this barrier is worse than I've anticipated.

The heavy doors creak open to reveal my father on his throne. The familiar crimson and gold of the room feels stifling now, the tapestries hanging limply in the still air. He sits straight-backed, his untarnished crown glinting in the afternoon light streaming through the tall windows. The emptiness of the vast chamber makes his presence even more imposing.

Ariella’s steady breathing beside me is comforting. The soft sound of her boots on the polished floor echoes as we approach the dais. Her presence radiates an impassive calm that somehow steadies my buzzing thoughts.

“So, you’ve returned.” My father’s voice carries that same authoritative tone I’ve heard my entire life, but it's different now. Harder. “And with the wraith, I see.”

The muscles in my jaw clench. The way he says ‘wraith’ makes my skin crawl—like she’s beneath him, beneath notice. I feel rather than see Ariella’s amused reaction. She’s probably fighting back one of those cutting remarks she loves to make.

I wouldn’t mind hearing one right now. Maybe it would mask the sound of my racing heart.

“What’s happening outside?” I ask, ignoring his obvious disapproval. “Why are the people calling for your death?”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Mere peasants who don’t understand the necessities of rule. They’ll be dealt with.”

The casual cruelty in his voice stuns me. How had I never noticed it before? Or had I simply chosen not to see it? The weight of the sword at my hip doubles, and I’m acutely aware of every guard’s position in the room. I itch to examine each one, to see if I would consider them loyal to my father, or if they would be loyal to me, but I do not dare break the king’s stare.

“Necessities of rule?” Ariella’s voice drips with venom. “Is that what you called it when you murdered my father, too?”

The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees. My father’s eyes narrow as he looks directly at her for the first time since arriving, and I resist the urge to step between them. The tension crackles like lightning before a storm.

It’s strange, hearing her speak the words aloud. We all know the truth—fucking Aether, the entire kingdom knows the truth, but it’s never spoken.

I keep my breathing steady as I watch the scene unfold, refusing to show any reaction to Ariella’s words. My father’s face darkens, his fingers tightening on the armrests of his throne.

“You dare speak to me of murder?” His voice fills the chamber. “You, the lowest of the kingdom’s scum, who has taken countless lives?”

“At least I’m honest about what I am.” Ariella’s tone is calm, deadly. “I don’t hide behind a crown and pretend my kills are for the good of the realm. Nor do I hirescumto do my killing for me.”

I shift my weight, aware of the guards’ hands moving to their weapons. It's hard to breathe around all this tension. Everyinstinct screams at me to intervene, to prevent what’s coming, but I know better. This moment has been brewing for years.

“You know nothing of ruling,” my father spits. “Of the choices a king must make.”

“I know enough.” Ariella takes a step forward, and several guards flinch. The air around her seems to disappear, silencing her advance. “I know you whipped an innocent man to death in front of his daughter—in front of the entire Angel-damned city. I know you murdered Isaiah because I dared to speak to your son.”

I show no reaction, though my organs flip at a rapid pace. I’d suspected, of course, but hearing it confirmed is entirely different.

“Watch yourself, wraith.” My father rises from his throne, his voice carrying that dangerous edge I remember from childhood. “You may have my son fooled with your charms, but I see you for what you are.”

A laugh escapes Ariella’s lips—the sound sharp and cruel. “And what am I,Your Majesty?”

“A whore of a mistake I should have corrected years ago.” He gestures to the guards. “Take her down below.”

I move without thinking, positioning myself between Ariella and the advancing guards. “Stop.”

The single word echoes through the oversized room. My father’s eyes widen—whether from surprise or rage, I no longer care.

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