Page 53 of Essence of the Throne

He’s right. The strange behavior of the realm, the increased security at the castle, whatever the fuck the king is doing—all of it is far worse than Gavriel’s jealousy.

“Fine.” A finger taps against the blade on my hip as I ignore the burn of essence on my arm where Gavriel’s flames touched me. “But keep yourdogon a tighter leash next time.”

Gavriel lunges forward, but Caspian blocks his path. “Both of you,stop.” He runs a hand through his wet hair, frustration evident in every movement. “You're acting like damn children. We need to focus on my father and the Accord. We need to help the people of the kingdom.”

“They tried to kill you,” I remind him, the memory of those people attacking him still fresh in my mind. Their words echo in my head…death to the king, death to the royals.

“I know.” His shoulders tense. “And their reactions are valid. I fear my father is only going to get worse now that he’s confessed to me. So this petty fighting is on hold for now.”

The castle looms behind us, its new fortifications making it look more like a prison than a palace. The Frostwell guards stationed along the walls watch us with cold eyes, their presence a stark reminder that things have changed in the week we’ve been away.

“Whatever. I’m tired.” I push through both men and start walking toward the castle, not waiting to see if Caspian follows. The rain begins to ease, but the chill remains in my bones.

I storm through the castle doors, water dripping from my clothes and creating puddles on the pristine floor. The staff will hate me even more for this mess, but I couldn’t care less right now.

“Ariella, wait!” Caspian calls from behind me. I ignore him, too focused on getting to my room and away from his insufferable friend.

I nearly collide with someone as I round a corner. The queen stands before me, her perfect posture and immaculate appearance making me feel even more disheveled. Her eyes rake over my mud-covered form with poorly concealed disgust as the lights above illuminate graying strands of hair around her face.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting my son’s new guard,” she says, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

“I’m not your son’s anything,” I snap, just as Caspian catches up to us.

“Ignore her, mother. She enjoys being dramatic,” he says, placing a hand on my lower back. I resist the urge to stab him.

The queen’s eyes narrow as she takes in our appearance—both of us soaked, close to naked and covered in dirt, my shorts partially burned away from Gavriel’s essence. “You certainly don’t look like one of our sentries. Why are you not wearing the proper attire?”

I smirk, unable to resist. “Well, according to your husband, I’m just Caspian’s whore. Though, like everything else he thinks of me, he has that wrong too.”

“How’s that?” she asks, her perfectly shaped eyebrow arching.

“Because Caspian is my whore.”

The prince groans beside me while the queen and I glare at each other. I’ve never liked her—there’s something calculating behind those eyes, something venomous beneath her pristine exterior. She always looks unhappy, like there's a constant bitter taste in her mouth.

Her gaze drifts to my hair, and there’s a barely perceptible shift in her expression as it darkens. “You look so much like your mother,” she muses. “In fact, the first time I saw you at the trials, I thought you were Valyria.”

My fingers twitch toward my blade. The way she says my mother’s name, like they were close…it sets my teeth on edge.

Seraphina’s smile never wavers. “I only worry for my son’s reputation. A prince consorting with…well.” She gestures vaguely at my appearance. “I’m sure you understand my concerns.”

“Mother,” Caspian warns, his hand pressing firmer against my back.

“Oh, darling, I’m simply being honest. The kingdom talks, you know.” She steps closer, her pressed dress rustling. “And they’re saying such awful things about you both.”

I bare my teeth in what could pass for a smile. “Good. Give them something real to talk about.”

“Angel…” Caspian sighs.

The queen’s eyes glitter with false concern. “You see? This is exactly what worries me. Such…aggression. Such disrespect for our traditions, our ways.” She reaches out as if to touch my face, but I jerk back. “Your mother would be so disappointed to see what you’ve become.”

My shadows writhe beneath my skin. I've yet to use them to choke the life from someone, but I'm happy to start now. “Do not speak of her.”

“Why not? We were quite close, you know. Before she…” She trails off, sighing. “Well. Before everything went wrong.”

“Nothing went wrong,” I spit. “She was murdered.”

“Is that what you believe?” She tilts her head, studying me like I’m some curious creature, before her gaze shifts into something akin to worry. “How fascinating. Though I suppose it’s easier to blame others than face the truth.”

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