Page 114 of The Awakening of Essensia

“I am having her moved soon.” His mother would never allow it. If Vaelira was seen getting special treatment, the Queen would lose the little support she had in the council. With tensions already fraying, they couldn’t afford that, not while he was still just a prince. They needed his father. They needed the King.

Axel leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. He didn’t speak, just looked at him the same way he used to when Elijah was a boy caught in a lie.

“Do you think I would leave her in that place?” Elijah said, letting a note of outrage slip into his voice.

“I suppose not.” Axel sighed. “I hate the thought of her in there.”

“I have seen her and she is doing well. It hasn’t broken her.”

Axel’s eyes narrowed. “You’re sure?”

Elijah nodded and offered a smile. Axel’s brow twitched.

“Although,” Elijah added, “she certainly perked up when I told her she would be able to take a hot bath soon.” He gave a short laugh, but the sound was awkward and he stopped abruptly. He was usually better at this.

“What should I tell the others,” Axel asked, glancing towards the stairs.

Willem must be in his room. Elijah cursed himself for not keeping his voice down. “Nothing,” he said quickly. “No point in worrying them. It will be over before they can do anything. We can explain after.”

Axel nodded. “Get her out of there.”

Elijah left the townhouse, his pulse steadier than when he had arrived. At least he didn’t have to worry about Axel doing something reckless, like risking himself, or worse, dragging others into it.

Of course, he understood the urge. Seeing Vaelira in that cell, the stink of her own urine and blood thick in the air, had made him want to vomit. He had nearly torn the bars from the stone and carried her out himself, but she was strong, she would survive this, and once the King returned, she would be freed.

He couldn’t get the memory of her face from his mind. All the fire stripped from those hazel eyes. He told himself it didn’t mean anything. She was in shock now, but she would understand.

Once his father woke, his mother would finally admit he had been right to bring Vaelira to Caerthalyn. Once he had silenced the summoners, the city would see he was worthy of the crown. No more whispers of the spare, only the heir.

He would confront every problem head on. No more pandering to nobility while the people suffered. No more weakness. He would be the King his father never was. He would rule and Vaelira would stand at his side.

Once he explained, she would understand. She would forgive him and he would be better. He would make them all see it.

No matter the cost.

29

A Knock

Vaelira awoke to the sound of metal scraping on stone. She reached out from where she lay on the floor beneath a thick blanket and found the plate warm.

“Eat,” the guard ordered.

She waited, and only when the distant clang of the dungeon lock echoed, did she scramble upright. She hadn’t eaten in days, and the promise of hot food was too much to resist. She didn’t care that it burned her tongue or that the meat was tough. She licked the plate clean, then her fingers.

She was about to crawl back under the blanket when she heard the lock again. Vaelira sat up straighter, clutching the fabric around herself like a shield. It was too soon for them to collect the tray.

Two guards appeared. One held a lantern, the other reached for the ring of keys at his waist. The cell lock clicked open and Vaelira crushed the sliver of hope that tried to rise at the sound. Elijah wasn’t coming to save her. This had to be something else.

The guard stepped in, grabbed her by the arm, and shoved her into the corridor.

“Where are you taking me?”

The only answer was another shove between her shoulder blades that sent her stumbling forward. She turned towards the stairs, but they pulled her in the opposite direction, down another hall, through a door, and into a small room. The sudden glow of a fireplace made her eyes water. She raised her shackled hands to shield them.

The room was bare, save for a small tub of water and a chair with a plain shift draped over its back. A pair of simple shoes waited on the floor.

“Undress,” one of the guards ordered.