Page 115 of The Awakening of Essensia

Vaelira didn’t move. The guard tilted his head, eyes dragging down her body. “Undress, or we’ll do it for you.”

The other man laughed, shaking his head. “Come on, Klint. The Prince will have you whipped if you keep that up.”

Klint grunted, giving her a final look before slamming the door shut.

Vaelira exhaled slowly. There was only one reason she’d be told to bathe and change. It was time to meet Queen Mairese.

She crossed the room, passing the tub to check every corner and crevice, but there was no window, no secret passage. Not that she could open one even if it were there.

She reached for the buttons of her filthy shirt, then stopped, remembering the shackles. She’d rather throw herself in the fire than call the guards for help. Her gaze lingered on the flames, and for a moment, she considered it.

Instead, she ripped the fabric, letting it fall to the floor in pieces. She stepped out of her trousers and climbed into the tub, surprised to find the water warm. She closed her eyes and imagined she was back in the barracks after a long day of training.

Lukas’s burned body flashed through her mind. Her eyes flew open. She stared into the fire, her vision blurring. Had she killed him? Why hadn’t she asked Elijah? Had she been so selfish, so consumed, that she hadn’t spared a thought for the man she’d burned?

She scrubbed the dirt from her skin as best she could with her hands bound and stood before the fire to let her body dry. She stood close enough that the heat burned. The searing of skin was a welcome reminder that she could still feel. Still breathe. Still live.

Once dry, she slipped her feet into the shoes and picked up the dress, holding it against her body as she approached the door. “I will need help dressing,” she called, forcing defiance into her voice.

Laughter echoed on the other side. She cut it off. “If either of you thinks of doing it, I’ll tell Prince Elijah that a guard named Klint and his partner treated me most dishonourably.”

Muttering followed and a set of footsteps faded down the hall. Several long moments later, a quiet knock sounded. “Don’t knock,” Klint barked. The lock clicked.

Vaelira stepped away from the door, keeping the dress wrapped across her front. It opened just enough for a small girl to dart inside. She couldn’t have been more than ten. She looked once at Vaelira and quickly away as the door shut behind her.

Vaelira lowered her voice. “You don’t have to be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

The girl looked up and Vaelira offered a gentle smile. The girl hesitated but smiled back.

“Look,” Vaelira said, raising her shackled wrists. The girl looked, and so did Vaelira. Now she had adequate light, she could see the metal was etched with strange patterns. Lines and curves spiralled around her wrists like ancient script. She’d never seen anything like it. She reached inward again, calling the flame. For a heartbeat, she thought the markings glowed, but then the metal was dull again. Perhaps it was the firelight.

“What’s your name?” Vaelira asked.

“Gilda,” the girl replied.

Vaelira held out the dress. “Do you mind helping me, Gilda?”

Gilda took it and shook out the fabric, frowning in concentration. Vaelira tilted her head, just as confused by the strange folds and ties.

Eventually, they managed it together. The dress slipped over her shoulders like a cape. The sleeves were split from wrist to armpit, with buttons running up the length so they could be fastened without removing the shackles. The rest wrapped around her front and was tied into place.

When Vaelira spun to let Gilda check their work, they were both grinning. A loud knock cut through the moment of warmth and Gilda flinched. Vaelira squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

Gilda slipped back into the hall and Klint pushed his way in, the brief reprieve Vaelira had allowed herself to feel draining away with his approach. There was no sneer this time. He studied her with cold calculation, making sure she was presentable, then he stepped forward. Vaelira stepped back. He grunted and dragged her into the hall.

The palace was silent. Only the guard's heavy boots echoed through the dim halls. Servants moved like ghosts, their eyes lowered. It was clear she would find no help here.

They reached a set of heavy double doors and Klint knocked. Vaelira’s hand twitched, reaching for a sword that wasn’t there. Her father’s sword. What would he think seeing her like this? What would Jon say, knowing her need for vengeance had led her here?

The doors opened and a different guard took her arm. She didn’t look back as Klint disappeared behind her.

They passed through a grand entryway, through another set of doors, and into what Vaelira assumed must be the Queen’s chambers. Curtains of deep golden velvet fell around the windows like waterfalls, pooling on the dark stained floors. Matching velour sofas flanked a wide hearth, and above it, a towering painting dominated the room, depicting two boys standing before their parents, one dark-haired, one light. At first, she didn’t notice the crown on the father’s head, but as she was pulled up the spiral staircase, the truth struck her.

She peered back over her shoulder, seeing the space below in a new light. Gold was the King’s colour. And it was everywhere.

Her stomach dropped. She hadn’t expected this, not so soon. She’d thought she would have time to practice, or maybe even talk to Galfri before being brought here. But no one knew about him. As far as they were concerned, she was the only mage on the continent. The more she thought about it, the more certain she was that even without Galfri, that couldn’t be true. If her parents had just told her the truth, she could have found others, learned how to control it, protected Jon… She wouldn’t be here in chains.

They stopped on the landing beside an intricate tapestry. Forests and mountains stretched across the heavy fabric, stitched in painstaking detail, gold-threaded wildcats prowling the woven woods, tiny eyes and sharp beaks peeking from behind leaves and rocks. The creatures of legends and lullabies.