The Essence

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.