Page 116 of The Awakening of Essensia

A door opened and a woman stepped out wearing a priest’s simple robes, a circlet of silver resting atop her white curls. In the centre, two gemstones sat atop one another, creating a single eye. She closed the door then stiffened as her gaze landed on Vaelira. Her mouth pressed into a tight line, but she said nothing as she swept down the stairs and out of sight.

The door opened again and Elijah appeared. His hair was perfect. His clothes spotless. His eyes went to her shackles, to her hair, the dress. He gave her half a smile. She gave him nothing.

He gestured for her to enter, and she stepped forward, refusing to hesitate but keeping as much distance from him as she could. The guards followed, the door closing behind them with shuddering finality.

In the centre of the room, a man lay in an enormous four-poster bed. Thick candlesticks flickered on the two tables beside him, casting his face into stark relief. If Elijah had ever looked like his father, it was impossible to tell now.

King Roderic Duremont lay still beneath a thick quilt. His skin was so pale it was almost grey. Sharp cheekbones jutted from his gaunt face, his eyes sunken so deep into their sockets they were rimmed in deep shadows. Wisps of golden hair clung to his scalp.

If it weren’t for the faint rasp of breath, Vaelira would have thought him dead.

This was what they expected her to heal. This husk of a man.

Two figures stood on either side of the bed. She didn’t recognise the man, but the woman was unmistakable, if only for the crown that rested on her head.

Elijah dipped into a bow, glancing back at Vaelira. She bent her knees, doing her best to curtsy without tipping sideways on her sore limbs.

The Queen tilted her head and approached. A sickly-sweet perfume drifted with her, so thick it turned Vaelira’s stomach. “The First Three have granted you great power, Vaelira Tarn,” she said, her voice like thick silk. “Heal our beloved King, and the First Three may yet spare your life.”

She lifted her hand. Vaelira flinched but didn’t move as Queen Mairese touched her cheek lightly, brushing a strand of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. She stepped away with a sigh, returning to the bedside.

Vaelira’s cheek burned. She wanted to wipe the caress away but resisted, drawing her focus back to the King instead. She didn’t know how to heal a scraped knee, let alone whatever this was, but the Queen’s words had not been a request. Bound as she was, killing her would be as easy as a scythe through wheat. She wouldn’t even see it coming.

The man at the King’s side turned. Elijah shifted slightly, as if to block his approach, but the man just gave him an amused smile and stepped past. “Lord Emeric Lereaux,” he said, giving a mock bow. Something about him was familiar.

“Erryn’s father,” Elijah clarified.

She could see it now, the sharp nose, the square jaw. Erryn hadn’t given details, but she knew this man was no good. Her gaze hardened, and that she could still summon rage gave her hope that the essensia hadn’t abandoned her entirely.

The Queen watched, her expression unreadable, but Vaelira could feel the weight of disapproval in the room. The Queen turned to the guards and gave a single nod. There was a knock and someone was dragged through the door. A woman.

It didn’t matter that the woman’s freckles were now covered in long-dried blood, or that her usually light hair now hung in greasy strands. Even with one of the woman’s eyes swollen shut, Vaelira knew what colour it was.

Green.

She would recognise that face anywhere.

She would recognise her friend anywhere.

Freya.

30

This Weight

Vaelira didn’t have time to register what was happening before the guard slammed a fist to Freya’s side. She gasped, her knees cracking on the stone floor as she collapsed, rolling onto her side as she fought for air.

Vaelira surged forward, reaching for her essensia, but nothing rose to her palms. Another guard seized her, dragging her back.

“Let her go,” she spat at Queen Mairese, twisting in the guard’s grip. How long had they been keeping Freya hostage? How long had they been planning this?

“Mother,” Elijah said, stepping forward. The sound of his voice turned her blood to acid. He had the nerve to look shocked, to act like he didn’t play a role in any of this. Even if the hordes of the Abyss rose and all Eastvale turned to ash, she would never forgive him for this.

The Queen raised a hand, silencing him, her eyes fixed on Vaelira. “You will heal the King,” she said, stepping closer. “Or you will watch her die.”

Vaelira stopped struggling. Behind her, she heard grunt and a whimper as Freya took another hit.

“Stop!” Vaelira cried. “I’ll do it. Just let her go.”