Page 65 of Essence of the Throne

“We’re closed,” she mutters, her tone dry and flat. I have a feeling they’re always closed.

I smirk and straighten until my chest pushes out. “Even for fellow guild members?”

Her eyes snap to mine, widening as her jaw loosens. “The Silver Wraith,” she whispers to herself, setting down the blade. Has she any regard for safety? “We heard you’d won the king’s competition.”

“I did.” I take one step to lean against the counter, holding my face mere inches from hers. “I need to speak with your guildmaster.”

She studies me for a long moment before her gaze shifts to Caspian and Gavriel, shock consuming her features once more. “You brought the prince?” she squeaks, acting as if I would ever care about bringing royalty into my world. “They stay here.”

“No.” The word comes out sharper than intended. “They stay with me.”

The woman’s lips thin, and she considers something before shaking her head. “The prince and a royal sentry? In our guild?” she scoffs. “I think not.”

I feel Caspian tense beside me as his thigh settles against mine. Before he can speak, I lower my voice, dropping the friendly act. “This isn’t a request. Take us to your guildmaster, or I introduce you to my blade before finding him myself.” I let my hand drift down, her eyes following only to catch on my weapons. “Your choice.” The threat is clear—I’ve no time for games today.

She mutters something under her breath but straightens, pushing against a door behind the counter. “Follow me. And tell yourfriendsto keep their hands where I can see them.”

I chuckle as we follow her through the door and down a dark, narrow staircase. “They’re the least of your worries today.” I consider killing her for being the most foolish person I’ve ever met—who the fuck gives their back to someone who’s known for being a ruthless murderer?

The steps creak under our weight as we enter the basement. It’s larger than I'd have guessed, with a stone hallway that leads to various rooms. We pass an open one where a few students practice with wooden daggers in one corner. They pause their sparring when they catch sight of us, whispering among themselves as soon as they think we cannot hear.

The woman leads us to another door, this one reinforced with steel. She knocks twice before opening it.

“Thaddeus, sir,” she announces, “the Silver Wraith is requesting an audience with you.” A large man swings the door open amoment later, which explains the lack of training and structure in this facility. A woman would never do such a piss-poor job of managing a guild—something Marek realized when he took over and brought in Velora as his second.

Thaddeus grunts and nods his head, inviting us to follow. The office is spacious but cluttered, with maps and documents covering every surface. Behind a massive desk, Thaddeus—who must be close to sixty, though his build suggests he hasn’t lost much of his fighting capability—sits with a loud thump. His dark eyes sweep over us, their gaze like ice.

“Leave us, Marta,” he commands. My eyes stay fixed on the man in front of me as his student steps out, closing the door behind her.

“Interesting company you keep, Silver Wraith,” Thaddeus comments in a gravelly tone, leaning back in his chair. There’s an intensity in the way his muscles rest, as if he expects to jump from his seat and defend himself at any moment. Smart. “To what do I owe thishonor?”

I step forward and drop into the seat across from him, unsheathing my blade to twirl it through my fingers. “Ally Dimir. She claimed to be a student from your guild.”

His expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in his eyes. “Never heard of her.”

My answering laugh is quiet as I continue to stare at the guildmaster. “How would you like to find out just what I do to those that lie to me?” I lean against the edge of his desk, my bladenot faltering once in my hold. “She was in the king’s competition. Until I killed her. Ring any bells, yet?”

“Many competed in the king’s trials. I can’t be expected to remember them all.” He shrugs, but his shoulders are too tense. “Now, if that’s all—”

Quick as thought, I twist my blade so the hilt rests in my palm and slam it into his desk, embedding the steel deep in the wood between Thaddeus’ splayed fingers. “You have one last chance to answer my fucking questions before your guild finds itself masterless.” My voice is calm but harsh. I am exhausted from others' constant dismissal.

“Ariella.” Caspian pauses as if he's about to continue, but I silence him by holding up my other hand.

“The king came here himself, did he not?” I press. “Specifically requested Ally be sent for his competition. What I want to know is why.” I already have the answer, but I also need to know if there was more to Thalion’s decision than choosing the most gullible woman he could find.

Now that I think of it, I don’t believe Caspian knew of his secret betrothal to her.

Thaddeus’ jaw clenches, his voice light as he insists, “Like I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I was hoping he’d say that.

Before he can blink, I stand from my seat and twist my blade to shove it through his outstretched hand, securing it to his desk. The man makes a delightfully desperate noise, leaning forward to grab my blade. As he does, I unsheathe another and press itagainst the base of his throat where the adrenaline rushing into his system pounds against the skin of his neck. His eyes scream of betrayal—did he think I wouldn’t follow through?

He will not make such a mistake again.

I lean in even closer, twisting the blade a bit. His teeth grind, the high-pitched sound something I wish to hear again. “You’re lying again, Thaddeus. And my patience is wearing quite thin.”

“You dare threaten me in my own guild, wraith?” He shifts to lean back as much as his hand will allow. “I could have you killed where you stand.”

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