Page 118 of The Awakening of Essensia

The seven will bind him at the three peaks. The crown will carry this weight for eternity. May they remember the sacrifice when they burn our kin.

The Crown will carry the weight.

She had thought it meant guilt, the shame of the slaughter, of hunting mages to extinction. But now—now, she understood.

Maerin Vireldane was bound to the King of Caerthalyn, and they expected her to heal him.

31

The King

Vaelira took a step back.

“You have to try again,” Lord Lereaux said, catching her arm to stop her retreat.

“You must,” said Queen Mairese, her voice low. It was the closest to pleading the monarch would ever get.

“Something dark lies inside him,” Vaelira said. If they knew the truth, they wouldn’t be so eager, but what if they didn’t believe her, or worse, they already knew? Is this why the Crown hadn’t interfered with the summoners, because they were the ones behind it?

“Maybe we should wait,” Elijah said, turning to the Queen. “Give her time to recover.”

“Do you want your King to die?” Queen Mairese said. “Do you want the crown so badly you’d watch your own father wither before your eyes?”

Elijah looked like he might protest but dropped his gaze. “Of course not.”

That he gave in so easily, that he had no intention of stopping this, told her everything she needed to know. He was a coward, and he disgusted her.

“Try again,” Queen Mairese said, looking past Vaelira.

Another blow struck Freya. Vaelira turned instinctively, but Freya’s voice rang out, cracked but defiant. “Don’t look, Lira. One weak link…”

Vaelira screwed her eyes shut. Freya was still fighting, still holding strong, and she had to do the same. Turning back towards the bed, Vaelira raised her palm.

She’d have to be quick. She couldn’t give them time to stop her.

A spark caught and fire engulfed her hand. The power whirled around her palm, faster and faster, until it blurred. She spun, hurling the flame towards the guard standing over Freya. It flew over his shoulder, catching the edge of his cloak. In seconds, it blazed. He dropped, thrashing and rolling, trying to smother the flames.

Freya scrambled to her feet as Vaelira lunged, grabbed her by the arm, and sprinted for the door. Someone seized her and she twisted, palm raised. It was the Queen.

For a split second, she imagined doing it, imagined burning the woman who had caused so much pain, but Freya squeezed her hand and Vaelira shoved the thought away. She swung her arm wildly, sending flame soaring past the Queen’s head into the room beyond.

Vaelira and Freya crashed to the floor in the hall.

Queen Mairese screamed.

At the far end of the room, flames crawled up the bedposts with unnatural speed, igniting the quilt and the man lying beneath.

Elijah rushed forward, as if he meant to stop it, but what power did he have against her now?

She felt her essensia there, felt its hunger to burn, to consume. She was tempted to let it, but what would it devour next?

Why do you care?

She should take Freya and run while they were all distracted. She should leave them all to their fate and let the flames deal with their sins.

Elijah flinched back from the blaze as he tried to drag his father from the bed.

His father.