The Essence Read online

  I don’t know how long we stayed like that, wrapped around each other in the dancing light emanating from my skin, but I was certain that Angelina, first princess of Ludania, had at last drifted off to sleep.

  It surprised me, then, when I heard her voice, so young, so quiet, fill the air around us. “It didn’t work, did it?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to hear her words. She was wrong, she had to be. But I gave her the only answer I could, the truth. “I don’t know,” I whispered back to her.

  Angelina nodded. “I wish she’d leave us alone.”

  Surely, from where she lay, she could hear my heart’s ache.

  “Me too,” I said, my voice barely audible now. “Me too.”

  I stumbled from Angelina’s room, my legs quivering, moving through the passageways of the palace and casting light wherever I went. There was no escape, no place I could be alone.

  I knew, even before I’d left Angelina’s room, even as I’d bent over her sleeping form to give her one final good-night kiss, watching her lids flutter, her eyes flitting back and forth beneath them as she finally succumbed to her exhaustion, that it hadn’t worked.

  She can’t help you. She’s not strong enough to keep me at bay. Sabara was still with me.

  I reached out to steady myself against the wall, and an armed guard—one of the night sentries—turned his curious gaze in my direction. But I glared at him until he turned away once more. The affairs of the queen were not his concern, unless there was a matter of security at hand. And at the moment I knew I appeared safe, despite the fact that I was anything but.

  Black coils of invisible smoke enveloped me, twisting and spiraling through and around me, until they were all I could see or hear or even breathe. I was suffocating in Sabara’s insidious grasp.

  “No!” I insisted, pounding my fist against the wall and gritting my teeth. I didn’t care if I drew the guard’s attention again. He wasn’t my problem. Sabara was trying to push me out.

  Laughter erupted, echoing ominously and grating against my ears, rasping along each and every nerve fiber of my body. Poor child. Poor, wretched child. You have no idea what you’re up against. No idea how to stop me, do you?

  I gasped as I fell to the ground, sickened by how close to the truth her words had hit. My heart shuddered violently within the dwindling space of my chest.

  I didn’t know how to make her go away. I hadn’t figured out how to make her leave me alone.

  The sight of me curled in a ball on the thick carpet must have raised alarm because I heard the guard’s voice coming from somewhere outside of me. “Are—are you okay, Your Majesty? Do you need help?”

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I concentrated instead, focusing everything I had on smothering Sabara. On quelling her treacherous voice, the one that tempted me with its malice. That whispered evil and deceit.

  She isn’t me. Not yet. I am still in control, I reminded myself, again and again and again.

  I dropped my head, forcing myself to draw in one breath, followed by another, and another. The remaining darkness was deluged by a shower of glittering sparks as my flesh torched. I called up every ounce of reserve energy I had, clutching my hands into fists as I wrapped my arms protectively around myself.

  “Go away,” I told her in a shaky voice. And then louder, more resolved. “Leave me alone!”

  The only sound I heard was the whisper of booted footsteps, the guard’s steady gait as he rushed away from me. Surely, he’d assumed I was speaking to him.

  But I heard—and felt—nothing from within. I stayed there for what seemed like an eternity, waiting to see if she’d return, if she’d come back to torment me. The oily black smoke that had just moments earlier choked me, seemed to have vanished, evaporated into oblivion, and now I could breathe again. Clearly. Freely.

  It wasn’t until I felt someone reaching for me, and I heard the familiar voice against my ear, that I dared to open my eyes at last. “You have to stop doing this, Charlie.” Max’s words scolded me, but his soft voice—and his fathomless gray eyes—were gentle and filled with unspoken reassurances. “You’re scaring the guards.” He picked me up from the ground, lifting me and clutching me to his chest. I let my head fall heavily against him as I listened to his heart beating an unsteady rhythm, and I knew the real truth of his statement.

  It wasn’t the guards I was scaring. It was him.

  iv

  When I heard the knock at my door, I closed my eyes, staving off the headache I’d been fighting all day. “Tell him to go away,” I told Zafir, unable to even get off the bed where I was sprawled with my fists crushed against my throbbing temples. “No more lessons today. I can’t take any more.”

  It had been a rough day, and Baxter, Sabara’s former adviser who was now in charge of tutoring me in the finer points of palace life, had been patient, doing his best to pull me out of my foul mood and placate me when my tolerance grew thin. But patience wasn’t what I needed now, and the idea of facing Baxter for yet another lesson made my head pound even more violently.

  What I really needed was sleep. And peace and quiet inside my own head. Neither of which I’d gotten the night before.

  Max had carried me back to my rooms and gently put me back to bed. He’d even waited there with me until long after he thought I’d fallen to sleep. But sleep had been tenuous and hard to hold. Like so many threads of light carried on the dawn.

  Eventually, after he’d gone to his own chambers, I’d given up on it, choosing instead to concentrate on my schoolwork. Funny how I’d once thought that being queen would mean no more studies. Now, it seemed, studying was all I did.

  Zafir’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “It’s Brook, Your Majesty.”

  At his words, I bolted up. “Let her in.” I jumped off the bed and was already halfway to the door when Brook came inside. “Where’ve you been? You missed our lesson yesterday.”

  She dropped low before me, preparing to greet me formally, but before she could say the words, I stopped her. “Please don’t, Brook. It’s only me, and we’re all alone.” I glanced at Zafir, daring him to argue as Brooklynn rose to her full height once more.

  “Our lesson, Charlie?” she answered, peering over her shoulder to Zafir. “I’m not the one who needs lessons. I’m not the one afraid of horses.” As she turned back to face me, I could see that her skin was flushed and her eyes glittered feverishly. “I’m to tell you we have company for dinner, an emissary from the Third Realm.” She grinned then, looking so much like the little girl I’d once played with—rather than the commander of an army—that I was taken aback for a moment. “Your father says to dress for dinner.”

  “Dressing for dinner” meant actually wearing a dress. A proper one . . . not one of the comfortable cotton shifts that allowed me to run and move freely, to play with Angelina in the woods, or to wade through the ponds with bare feet. All things I’d also been told were not queenly activities.

  Sometimes the rules were unsettling.

  I took in Brooklynn’s attire, ignoring the dull ache behind my eyes. To anyone else I’m certain she looked intimidating in her sleek ebony uniform. I’d let her design it herself when I’d made her a commander in my armed forces, and I’m sure that was exactly what she’d intended—to be the picture of intimidation. She was dressed entirely in black, with even the buttons fashioned from polished onyx. I’m certain her choice had nothing at all to do with how the color complemented her subtly bronzed skin, or the way her dark curls glistened against the midnight field of leather.

  To me, however, she still looked like Brook.

  Beautiful. And damaged.

  “I need to talk to you.” Brook’s voice was quiet as she drew me away from Zafir.

  I gave him the almost imperceptible signal to turn away so I could change, and then whispered back to her, “What is it?”

  Brook sighed, settling onto the edge of my bed as I unbuttoned the front of my blouse and tossed it in a crumpled heap on the
floor before unzipping my trousers. “I went to see my father yesterday, in preparation for your visit to the Capitol,” she explained, her words tumbling together. “Xander was right, he’s definitely up to no good.”

  I winced, I knew how hard seeing him must have been for Brook. Her dad wasn’t like mine. He would never have kept her safe if she’d had a secret to keep. He would never have killed for her. “Did he give you any idea what he’s planning?”

  “Not yet. But he made threats against me. And against you . . .”

  I stopped tugging the gown, which was only halfway to my hips. “Did he say anything specific? Do you think he plans to try something?”

  She shook her head, anticipating my thoughts. “I don’t think he’s in any position to be a serious danger. Not yet anyway,” she explained. “Besides, I told him what would happen if he didn’t back down.” She exhaled loudly. “I’m not sure he’ll actually listen, but he heard my warning clear enough.”

  I tugged the black velvet dress the rest of the way up, past my hips and over my bare chest. I turned my back to Brooklynn, lifting my hair out of the way and leaving the matter of the threats alone for the moment. “How was it for you? Seeing him again?” The zipper glided smoothly, and I held my breath, letting it find its way along my spine.

  When she didn’t answer right away, I turned to look at her. I saw something flash behind her eyes, and I knew that the real Brook—the girl who had once been only my friend and not the commander in my army—was aching.

  “Fine,” she answered when she realized I was watching her. “Serious or not, I think you should tell Max and Xander about his threats. I think you should reschedule your tour through the city.”

  I was shaking my head even before she’d finished speaking. “No,” I insisted, equally quiet but adamant, leaving no room for her to argue.

  Her back stiffened and I could feel her withdrawing from me, even though she remained where she was. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt this, a growing distance between us. Although Brook was now a soldier in my service, I wasn’t sure she had grown accustomed to the shift in power between us. I’m not sure either of us had.

  I hated the seemingly cavernous fissure that had spread, cracking our friendship.

  I walked over to my mirror and closed my eyes. “I’d like a moment alone, please,” I whispered. “Do you two mind waiting outside? I’ll only be a minute.”

  Even without looking, I could sense the charged silence between them, and I knew they’d exchanged a look—deciding whether to acquiesce to my request or not. Then I heard the door, and I was alone at last.

  Behind my eyes, my head continued to ache. Sometimes I wondered if this was too much for one person: the lessons and the rules, the meetings and the responsibility that sometimes felt as if they were crushing me.

  The solitude.

  I opened my eyes, blinking at my reflection as I studied the gown I wore. The black fabric fell in cascading waves, hugging my body in all the right places. I still couldn’t get used to the trappings of my position and wondered if I’d ever stop preferring darker colors—blacks and grays and the deepest shades of russet, colors that didn’t stain—despite the dressmaker’s best efforts to persuade me otherwise. I was still a vendor at heart.

  I ignored the fact that that same dressmaker had disregarded my preferences and had sewed in intricate gold beading along the waist and hemline.

  And then there were the other doubts, the ones that had nothing to do with me at all. The ones that came from her.

  Listen to your friend, Charlaina. Not everyone can accept change. Not everyone wants the kinds of freedom you’ve offered them.

  Sabara’s voice filled my head like liquefied hatred. Loathsome and wretched. It seeped through my veins like bile and I braced myself against the mirrored vanity, leaning closer and trying to see past my own eyes—to see through myself—to get a glimpse of her. I wanted to know if she was in there, somehow watching me from the other side of the looking glass.

  But it was just me. I was the same girl I’d always been, except that now I looked tired, drawn; my eyes were bleary.

  I decided to prod her, hoping I sounded stronger than I felt. Hoping she couldn’t read my thoughts as well as my emotions.

  “Say what you will, Sabara,” I ground out on a hushed breath, feeling somewhat foolish. “But I’m not the one trapped. I’m not the one entombed in a body that’s not my own.” To make my point, I curtsied to the likeness that stared back at me and stood again sharply. My actions were jerky, like my limbs were being pulled by a puppeteer’s hands. But it was only me. I was the one pulling the strings. “I’m the one in control here, not you.”

  The door opened then, and Brooklynn peeked inside. “Did you need something? I thought I heard you,” she asked, scrutinizing me, and I wondered what she saw as I slowly stood again, letting my arms fall to my sides.

  I shook my head, staring at her, still not ready to trust my voice.

  “Well, come on then.” She reached out her hand and I stepped toward her. “Look at you, all fancy and queenly.” She grinned, holding out her arm for me, acting as if she were my date for the evening. Acting as if nothing had changed between us . . . as if we were the same old Charlie and Brook.

  I smiled sheepishly, looking down at my black dress. “We match,” I said, because I could think of nothing else.

  Brooklynn laughed at me, leaning her head against mine as Zafir held the door for the two of us. “Oh, Charlie, when will you realize: We’ve never matched. It’s what makes us perfect for each other.”

  Something electric filled the air the moment I entered the dining hall. At first I thought it was Eden. It was typical to feel her emotions, even when her face was completely blank.

  As if she could ever manage that, I thought, smiling inwardly. She wore expressions like accessories, jewelry to match her stormy moods. I noted her usual suspicious glare as she stood protectively behind my little sister, who was already seated at the dining table. Eden’s coal-black eyes took in every minute detail of the room.

  But it wasn’t her that I sensed; I was certain of that. I recognized her mood instantly. Watchful and wary. A hawk guarding a sparrow.

  No, it was something else that had the tiny hairs at the nape of my neck standing up in warning.

  And then I saw them on the other side of the room, near the windows that overlooked the gardens. The cluster of people spoke among themselves, and I could see only their backs. They were too far away for me to get a good look, but

  it was hard to imagine that any of them was the emissary Brook had told me about—an ambassador who’d been dispatched to be the face of their nation. Even from here, they all appeared too rough and uncivilized to be suitable.

  Besides, emissaries were almost always women. Unlike me, most queens tended to prefer other women in their highest counsel positions. Or so I’d been told.

  Max stepped forward then, with Claude shadowing him. Unlike Zafir, who had once been one of Max’s royal guards, Claude had decided to remain with Max. It hadn’t mattered to Claude that Max no longer held a royal title after his grandmother’s death.

  I was the queen now.

  But they didn’t know what I knew about Sabara. That she’d somehow survived. That she’d found a way to be heard in the deepest recesses of my mind.

  Even I knew it sounded like madness.

  I grinned as Max met me at the doorway, blocking most of my view of the room and all thoughts of Sabara. He was dressed in full ambassadorial regalia. In his official role he was my chief adviser, the person who kept me apprised of policies both foreign and domestic. Unofficially, he was the person I most counted on in this world. He protected me. Not me the queen. Just me, Charlaina. Charlie.

  “You look beautiful,” I whispered, letting him take my arm.

  “I was supposed to say that.”

  “That you look beautiful? Be my guest, but I think it sounds better if I say it.”

  A ghost of a
smile pulled at his lips as he drew me closer to his side than any adviser should. “Our guest is anxious to meet you.”

  Already my father was sitting beside my little sister and my mother at the long dining table set with polished silver and gleaming china. His pale blue eyes, so much like my own and Angelina’s, sparkled approvingly as he took in my appearance.

  Smiling back at him, I tried to ignore the other sensation that plagued me. The one that warned me that something was . . . off.

  “Where is she?” I forced my gaze to Max.

  “He,” Max corrected me. “The ambassador is a he.” And when I flashed him a curious look, he grinned down at me. “I know. What is it with these progressive queens and the men in their lives? His name is Niko Bartolo. He’s the adviser . . .” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully as he glanced down at me, intentionally reminding me that he, himself, was more than just my adviser. I felt myself blushing. “. . . . to Queen Vespaire of the Third Realm.”

  The Third Realm was at least two days—and one full queendom—from Ludania by train. Six by horse. These visitors were far from home.

  “Do you know why Queen Vespaire has sent him?” I asked, pretending everything was as it should be. That the tension knotting my stomach was simply the result of nerves.

  “Are you all right, Charlie? You don’t look well.” Max frowned, scrutinizing me.

  But it wouldn’t have mattered what my answer had been, because the moment Max moved, just the barest amount, I found myself standing in front of the congregation of men who’d just moments earlier been contemplating the view of the gardens. It was hard to imagine that this particular group had any appreciation for flowers or statues or ornate fountains. I imagined they’d much prefer armories and taverns and brothels.

  There were five of them in all, I counted quickly, trying to appraise the situation . . . to evaluate my uneasy feelings. Not one of them appeared to have washed or changed after their long journey, and their worn riding pants and coats were still covered in dust and grime from the road. Beneath their clothing, their skin was equally weathered and sunbaked.