The Essence (30 page)

All because I was in his arms at long,
long
last.

No! This isn’t right.
This time it was me arguing with her.

I knew she was ignoring me, and I tried again. I tried harder. My skin tingled, but my head still spun, swirling and whirling, delighting in the sensation of being twirled and held and twirled some more.

Heat flashed through me as I willed Sabara to give my body back to me. To step aside.

I didn’t hear the gasps, or the cries. I didn’t hear the murmur that erupted around us, spreading like the fire that spread inside of me.

I only knew that when I finally stopped turning, when Niko’s hands fell away from me at last, I was no longer helpless and trapped.

I felt whole.

I was me again.

And I was blinding.

Bitch,
I heard Sabara hiss, but she was quieter now. Distant. Less than a whisper.

“Your Majesty.” It was Zafir who tugged at my arm, leading me from the center of the dance floor, forcing my feet to move once more.

I looked up at his face, but there was something wrong with it, it was awash in too much light, emanating a glow that was almost impossible to look upon and I winced, lifting my arm to shield my eyes.

That was when I realized the truth.

It wasn’t Zafir who glowed, it was me.

The light beneath my skin shimmered in the way it had before, when Angelina had first brushed her fingertips over me in a last-ditch effort to stop Sabara from taking me over entirely. It was so bright my eyes ached.

I glanced around at the others now, the gathered crowd that had formed around me, queens and emissaries and counselors and ambassadors, along with servants and performers and musicians. The entire party had ground to a stop. The entire party was watching me.

I opened my mouth, wondering what I’d say, wondering how I’d explain my strange transformation. It was one thing to have an unusual pallor, to be so translucent I was luminous. It was another thing altogether to actually, truly, contain sparks beneath my skin.

I worried that I’d somehow revealed too much of myself.

It was Neva who reacted first, despite my best efforts to come up with something rational. Some logical explanation that didn’t betray my secrets.

“Bravo, Queen Charlaina! Bravo!” she exclaimed gleefully, clapping her hands together as she stepped forward, her gossamer gown matched exactly to the shade of her skin, making it seem invisible, as if she were wearing nothing at all. “You’ve outdone us all!” She clasped my hands in hers, lifting them to her bosom as she beamed down upon me. “You are the loveliest of us all.” This time her voice came out husky, and I wondered if I’d heard right, if there was an air of envy hidden there.

She whirled me around to face the rest of the onlookers, lifting my arm as if I’d somehow achieved a triumph and she were declaring me the victor. Doubt moved from face to face, but then I heard one uncertain round of applause, followed by another, and soon the entire room was cheering.

Cheering the fact that my skin was alight.

Cheering because Neva told them to do so.

I pulled my hand from hers as I smiled wanly. Then I fled the ballroom.

I was still shaking when Niko found me.

“Charlaina,” he said.

I shook my head. “Go away.” I meant it this time. I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to hear his voice. I just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be, when I was me.

The old me.

I huddled as far as I could, trying to find darkness in which I could hide, but there was none. I’d made it all vanish.

Why did I have to ruin everything?

I could scarcely believe what had happened back there—on the dance floor. Could scarcely conceive that Sabara had bested me, had managed to hijack my body and make it her own. Even now, my pulse was racing recklessly.

I bent over, trying to catch my breath. Trying to rein in my reeling thoughts.

How could I stop her? How could I keep her from doing that again?

And then I heard the other voice, not Niko’s. And not Sabara’s either.

It was a voice I’d been longing to hear for so long, a voice so sweet it nearly undid me as my knees went weak beneath me.

“Charlie,” came the ragged whisper.

I shuddered, turning toward the wondrous sound and telling myself that it couldn’t be, that something like this could only be a figment of my overtaxed imagination.

I could never be so lucky.

But I was wrong.

Because he was there, staring back at me, looking as weary and broken as I felt.

“Max,” I uttered.

“Charlie,” he said again, and then I was running toward him. I fell into his arms, not caring that, just minutes before I’d craved another man’s touch. Not caring that I’d let Niko and Sabara have their moment on the dance floor.

That was only an illusion.

This was real.

Max
was real. And he was here, with me.

Where before, in Niko’s arms, I’d felt dizzy and unsteady, like the world was tilting beneath my feet, now I felt solid and secure and stable. Max’s grip was strong and sure, and he enfolded me into it like steel. His lips moved over my hair, my forehead, my cheeks.

I looked up, letting his whiskers graze my nose. “When . . . ?
How . . . ?” I thought about what Niko had told us, about Brook’s soldiers being ambushed and left for dead. “How did you know?”

And then I saw just how weary he really was, and I wondered how hard he’d had to ride to reach me. I wondered if he’d slept at all. I got lost in his gray eyes, so unlike Niko’s. So like home.

“Where’s Brooklynn?” he asked as I studied him.

“She’s . . .” I frowned. “She’s not feeling well.”

“She’s drunk,” Zafir answered, apparently dissatisfied by the vagueness of my answer. I’d nearly forgotten about my guard, but it didn’t surprise me at all to see Claude standing by his side. And, of course, Niko was still there too.

Max’s gaze swept over me, only just now noticing the gown I wore and the way my hair was pinned back from my face. “Am I too late for the party?”

The corner of my lip ticked up. “The best part’s just begun,” I said quietly. Softly.

His brows squeezed together, almost despondently, as he leaned down and brushed his lips across mine. Not a kiss, but the promise of one. “I wish it were that simple, Charlie. I wish that was why we were here.” He squeezed me to him once more, the stubble from his cheeks catching my hair. “I’m so glad you’re safe. And I swear I intend to keep it that way.” And then over my head, but not releasing me, he said to the others. “Get Aron and meet me in the gatehouse. We need to talk.”

“I’m coming too,” I protested, wriggling free from his grasp. I was the queen, after all. I was the one in danger. I should be there.

Max just shook his head, as did Zafir and Claude. “You can’t go out there with all those men, not until we figure this thing out. It’s safer in the palace.” He turned to Niko then, and his next words made my heart stop. “Can you stay here with Charlie and Brooklynn?” he asked the ambassador to the Third Realm, the man in whose arms I’d just been. “Make sure no one gets close to them.”

I expected Niko to protest, to tell Max that he wasn’t a guard, nor was he a babysitter. Yet he did neither. He simply nodded.

I opened my mouth to protest, to tell Max not to leave the two of us alone together.

To tell him not to leave me at all.

But then I saw the dark circles beneath his eyes, and the blisters on his hands—likely from his reins—and I closed it again.

The sooner they resolved this matter to their satisfaction, the sooner Max could get some rest. And the sooner he’d be back . . .

. . . with me.

“Don’t touch me,” I told Niko, shrugging out of his grip. “In fact, just leave me alone. I can get back to my room on my own; I don’t need an escort.”

Sabara remained silent, a good thing since I wasn’t in the mood to fight with the both of them.

Niko let my arm go but kept up with my brisk pace. “You know I can’t do that, Charlaina—”

I stopped short and spun on him, fury and frustration making my vision blur. “I’m the queen of Ludania. I’m not Sabara. And, to you, I’m not even Charlaina. It’s ‘Your Majesty.’ That’s all it’ll ever be.” I wanted to sound firm, resolute, so I spun away from him. I couldn’t let him see the way tears stung my eyes, or how my hands shook. “Now, please,” I insisted, taking a breath and straightening my shoulders. “Leave me alone.”

I wasn’t sure how long I waited, but I knew he was gone now, that I was all alone in the hallway.

It would’ve been dark, except that I was still there, filling the space with too much light.

It would’ve been peaceful, except that Sabara was still there, filling me with too much darkness.

I climbed the curving staircase up to the second-floor landing. Here, even the sounds from the party were barely noticeable, and with each step I took toward my chambers, the tension in my shoulders eased.

“I wondered if you were coming back,” a familiar voice came from ahead, from where the glow from my skin hadn’t yet reached.

I recognized the voice, and for a moment, it sounded strangely like the one that should be trapped inside of me.

I was too tired to banter or play politics tonight, all I wanted was my bed. “I couldn’t very well stay at the party all night, could I?”

Queen Langdon stepped forward, her skin looking even more like weathered paper in the light I cast. “It didn’t look that way from my vantage point. You seemed to be . . . enjoying your company. I thought you might dance forever.”

I smiled, but it was small and sad. “No one dances forever,” I said, trying to brush past her. “Good night, Your Majesty.” But her fingers caught my arm, squeezing me tighter than should have been possible. My eyes shot up to meet hers. “What are you . . . ?” I squinted at her, frowning. “What do you want from me?”

Her lips pulled into a hard line as she appraised me, and I wondered what it was she was dissecting: my skin and its unnatural radiance? My pale hair and eyes? Or just an inexperienced girl playing the role of queen?

She just held me like that, watching me, peeling me apart and, I was certain, finding me lacking.