The Essence
Page 8

“That was then, Charlaina,” my father said, reaching across the table to push more bread my way. Bread, to him, was always the solution. “Surely they can have no qualms now. Not after these past months. Not after all the positive changes you’ve made.”
I weighed my father’s words, along with the fact that my glow was no longer a secret. I couldn’t stay locked inside my palace forever. I’d been training for this job for months now, learning the proper way to be the queen of Ludania. It was time for me to meet my people.
I stood alone in my bedchamber, wishing I could find peace the way everyone else did. Only when the hour ticked far past midnight did Zafir ever leave me. When there was nothing to do but sleep. The guards posted outside my door never moved, but I often wondered if they knew about the secret doors, the hidden passageways behind the walls that tunneled like a labyrinth, connecting one room to the next.
I stared into the mirror, pondering my own image and wondering if Xander and Max were right when they’d said I could do this. I wondered if I was the right girl to be sitting on the throne and ruling Ludania.
I understood the reasons it had to be me, of course, yet at times I still felt like a fraud. Like a girl playing dress up . . . donning a paper crown decorated with only glitter and glue.
Clumsily, I reached to unclasp the delicate necklace I still wore as it glinted at my throat. My fingers were shaking, and frustration welled as I struggled, fumbling with the clasp.
Then I heard it. A voice
I can help you. The voice was hushed, almost far away as if it were coming from down a long, hollow tunnel, but I knew who was speaking. I knew who whispered inside my head.
Sabara.
Sabara who should have died months ago. Sabara upon whose throne I now sat, whose queendom I now ruled.
She was still here. Living inside my body.
Taunting me.
I dropped my hands as I gaped at my image—my image—staring back at me from the mirror. “Leave me alone.” I whispered, wondering how I’d sound to anyone who came upon me now, standing in the empty chamber of my bedroom. Talking to myself.
The mad queen.
That’s what I’d become, I thought as I stood there, waiting for something to happen. Silence stretched like an endless cord that tugged at my gut, making me realize I was all alone, that she hadn’t heard me.
That maybe she wasn’t really there at all.
My shoulders fell.
I was tired, so very tired, and I had to be up early in the morning.
My bare feet crept along the carpet to my bed, the covers rumpled from when I’d tried once already to sleep. I prayed fervently that this time I’d find what I so desperately needed. Rest. Peace.
I curled into a ball, wrapping my arms around myself and felt my eyelids fluttering, growing heavier and heavier. . . .
And just as they closed, I heard the faintest voice coming from deep within me.
Let me help you, Charlaina.
iii
I tiptoed through the darkened palace hallways, wishing it didn’t have to be this way, wishing I had another choice. But I didn’t. Not now.
There were times, during the deepest part of night, when I could almost forget who I was. Almost forget the responsibilities that weighed on my shoulders, forget the future I was expected to forge, and the lives I held in my hands. At least until I passed the occasional sentry and saw them start suddenly with recognition, bowing their heads low and shattering the silence with their reverent: “Your Majestys”. In the spaces in between the night watchmen, in the shadowed stretches where no one else dwelled, I could almost believe I was still the same girl. The same Charlie I’d always been.
Except that Sabara was with me . . . even when I was awake.
I approached the guard standing outside the heavy wooden door at the end of the hallway. Here sconces that had not so long ago held candles and oil lamps were now outfitted with electricity, and a small bulb cast him in a bowl of pale light. Like all the others, his eyes widened as he realized who it was that approached.
I lifted my finger to my lips before he could utter the all too familiar, all-too-formal phrase as I stepped past him. He didn’t try to stop me, despite the fact that the person he guarded slept soundly on the other side of that door.
I eased it open, grateful that the hinges were well oiled so it didn’t creak, the way many of the palace doors still did. Inside the darkened bedchamber, the newly appointed royal guard glared at me. My lips curved as her black eyes burrowed into me, lancing me with suspicion.
I was above reproach and she knew that, but her overprotective nature was one of the things I admired most about Eden—one of the reasons I’d accepted her as my sister’s guardian. She trusted no one.
But I was her queen. She had no business second-guessing my reason for being here. Even if it was the dead of night.
I nodded at the woman now sworn to protect Angelina with her life.
Leave us, I mouthed, and saw the flicker of hesitance cross Eden’s face before acceptance loosened her stance. She sighed from between clenched teeth, her only audible answer. Yet the air around her remained charged, as it was wont to do in her presence. Her moods were palpable, and I could feel her dissatisfaction with my request. Yet she obeyed silently, slipping from the room.
As I caught sight of my little sister, a tiny angelic form buried beneath layers of delicate silk and finely woven damask, my breath hitched. I hated to see her sleeping alone. I hated that we no longer shared a bed.
It won’t work, the voice whispered in my ear, and I closed my eyes, ignoring it as I crept closer on bare feet. I didn’t wish to wake Angelina; the last thing I wanted to do was frighten her. But I needed her now.