The Essence

by Kimberly Derting

  “No.” I shook my head, trying to break the spell I was under. “Not me. Her.” But this time there was less fight in my voice, and even I wasn’t sure what I believed. Every cell in my body responded to him; every nerve bundle, every muscle fiber reacted to his nearness.

  “You,” he insisted, leaning down and letting his breath graze my ear.

  Sabara’s voice on the other side of my ear kept repeating, Just let me have this. Just let me have this. Just let me have this. . . .

  I felt myself close the distance between us, a gap that barely existed in the first place, as I eased myself against him, all the while arguing back with her, No, no, no!

  His lips brushed my neck just as I felt a tear slip down my cheek. Just as frustration like nothing I’d ever known before welled inside me.

  I’d never been so powerless.

  “Um, I’m guessing this isn’t what it looks like.” Brooklynn’s voice came from behind me and I jerked away from Niko’s touch, from the feel of his lips against my skin, as I spun toward her.

  She stood in the open doorway, the one I’d just come through, and she, too, was wearing a nightgown. Yet she still managed to look fierce and unstoppable.

  I fumbled for an explanation, my mind reeling with possibilities, none of which explained the open hatch in the floor of our bedroom, or the fact that I’d been about to let Niko kiss me. “I—uh—I—”

  “Save it,” she interrupted. “All I wanna hear is that we’re going back to our room, and that whatever that . . . that thing in our floor is will not be used again. Understood?”

  I glanced nervously toward the unlit tunnel, wondering if Zafir was somewhere behind her.

  Her eyebrows ticked up as she crossed her arms. “No. I didn’t tell him,” she answered before I could even ask the question. “He still thinks you’re asleep.” She cocked her head. “In your bed.” Then she turned to Niko. “And you . . .” She took a warning step toward him, her arms falling to her side and her hands balling into fists. “I have no idea what’s going on here, but I’m warning you: Stay away from her.”

  “Brook—” I tried to interrupt, to take command of the situation, but she cut me off with a glare so cutting the words slid back down my throat.

  Then she grabbed my arm, both of us in nothing but borrowed nightgowns, and she dragged me into the passageway, slamming the door behind us.

  “What were you thinking?” Brook asked as I stared out at the flashes of lightning that came again and again, almost without pause.

  I wished I could explain it to her, but how could I make her understand? How did I tell her that the ghost of a dead queen was leading me around through underground passageways to rendezvous with her long-lost lover?

  Even I thought it sounded like madness.

  Instead, I shrugged and kept watching the storm outside.

  Brook sighed and joined me at the window. “Did you know the palace doors are barricaded for the night? Because of the storm. No one comes or goes. On Queen Neva’s orders.”

  “Why would she do that?” I wondered aloud.

  “Ice storm,” Brook explained.

  We stood there together, staring out, trying to see past the crystalline blooms of frost that formed on the outside of the glass panes. “It’s similar to an electrical storm, with flashes of lightning,” she said at last. “Only here, they’re far more dangerous. See how the pulses come up from the ground, rather than from the sky? Almost as if they’re made from the ice itself? Before you arrived, we were warned about the danger of the ice storm, that those pulses are drawn toward natural heat, making humans and animals easy targets. Basically, the charges search out anything with a pulse.” As if on cue, a huge flash sparked in the distance, illuminating the black sky beyond the walls of the palace.

  Brook’s breath fogged the glass as she leaned closer.

  “The lightning strikes have been known to burn an entire person to the ground,” she added.

  “Impossible.” But I wasn’t entirely convinced it was an exaggeration. I’d heard the tales too, legends of arctic storms so powerful that entire populations had been blown away on the wind, disintegrated to ash. I’d always thought they were the stuff of fables, though.

  After a moment, she spoke again as another blaze ignited the sky. “Apparently, the storms only strike after dark, and this one is unseasonably early. They don’t generally come until the dead of winter. From what I hear, Queen Neva’s decision to barricade us inside is best for everyone.”

  I could practically hear her thoughts. She felt the same way about being locked up in here—rather than in the gatehouse with her soldiers—as she did about being asked to surrender her weapons. Miserable.

  “Where’s the thunder?” I asked, hoping to distract her before she turned the conversation back to me, back to what I’d been doing with Niko. The landscape before us was punctuated by streaks of white-hot light that seemed to be coming from every direction now.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Brook shake her head. “There isn’t any.”

  “Never?”

  Brook seemed to think about that as she watched. “Hmm,” she finally uttered. “Weird, isn’t it? We’ll have to ask about that tomorrow.” She took a breath and turned to me, a wry smile on her lips. “But, for now, we should probably get to bed before Zafir realizes we’re up and starts asking questions.” She looked pointedly at the chest she’d dragged over and positioned right on top of the hatch in the floor, ensuring, at least in her mind, that I wouldn’t be using it again. “You have a long day ahead of you. Lots of ‘queen stuff’ to do.”

  xvi

  I gripped Zafir’s arm as we approached the throne room, where we were convening before breakfast. Through the open doorway, I could already make out several of Queen Neva’s guests, and my stomach tightened.

  I paused, taking a breath as the footman signaled discreetly to someone inside. And then Neva was standing there, an ethereal vision.

  I released a grateful sigh, letting her take me from Zafir as she slipped her cool fingers around mine. “Charlaina, you look”—she grinned, the corner of her lip turning up slyly as she appraised me in the simple yellow dress she’d sent up to my room, more color than I’d ever worn in my life—“like a golden flower. Can you feel every eye in the room on you? There has been much speculation about what you would be like, the girl who conquered a queen.”

  I kept my attention trained on her for the moment, not yet ready to face the prying eyes of the others. One queen at a time, I told myself. You can do this, Charlie.

  “I can’t thank you enough for the dresses. It was far too kind.” My gaze swept over her gown, and I was surprised—after seeing what she’d worn the day before—that hers was far more concealing than I’d expected. And by concealing, I simply meant that the material was nontransparent.

  Still, she managed to make it revealing all the same, by squeezing herself into a bodice so snug it threatened to push her breasts out of its top.

  She didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

  “You look lovely,” I said truthfully. Snug or not, she was quite possibly the most elegant woman I’d ever met. Her ice-blue gown fell into rippling, diaphanous waves that started just at her waist and cascaded all the way to the silver slippers on her feet. Her long, flaxen hair fell in a wild mass of curls around her shoulders, framing her silver eyes.

  “The rest of your party is awaiting your arrival. Rather impatiently, I must say. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they don’t trust me.” She looked toward the place where Brook and Aron were standing, along with Sebastian.

  All I could see of my friends through the gathering were their heads, but they didn’t look impatient to me. To me, it seemed as if they were enjoying themselves. Making friends, even.

  Aron bent to whisper in the ear of a slender girl in a red gown, while Brook watched them, barely noticing that Sebastian was speaking to her.

  “Don’t take it personally,” I offered, hoping to appea
se our hostess.

  She just raised an eyebrow and said, “I never do.” Then she waved to a woman who looked as though she might burst if she weren’t noticed soon—hopping up and down, trying to get Neva’s attention. “Come, dear. It’s time for you to meet some of the queens.”

  The queen in question turned out to be an empress, as I’d been told there would be a few in attendance. Empress Filis was as lively and animated as Queen Neva was graceful and reserved. Surrounding her were three girls dressed in matching white gowns that left their shoulders and backs, and much of their legs bare.

  The empress also wore white, but not a gown at all. Instead, her jacket was beaded and covered a gauzy blouse. I envied the fact that she wore pants, yet I heard no one faulting her for her fashion choice. Her hair was cut short and had been smoothed back from her face.

  She bent to kiss my hand, and I started, trying to recall if Xander had ever mentioned a greeting like this . . . certain he hadn’t.

  “It’s lovely to meet you.” Empress Filis lifted her eyes to mine, and the white-gowned girls tittered behind their hands.

  One of them said the word: “concubine,” although not in Englaise, or any other language I should have recognized.

  Around me, I realized I could hear more than I should have of conversations that were probably meant to be veiled by foreign tongues. One woman was telling her companion, not as quietly as she should have, about a particularly nasty ulcer she’d developed. When I heard the location of the sore—which was in a place I’d probably not reveal to Brooklynn in private, let alone in a roomful of strangers—I couldn’t help glancing her way.

  “She’s lovely . . .” I heard a woman say.

  “Unsophisticated,” alleged another.

  These were words that should have been hidden by language.

  I did my best to ignore the things I wasn’t meant to hear, to afford others the privacy they sought, but Sabara’s name was bandied about more often than I cared to acknowledge.

  I turned my gaze back to Filis, who was still holding my hand. “I—I—”

  “Let her go,” Neva protested.

  The empress pouted, but her eyes sparkled playfully. “Can you fault me, really? She’s incredibly . . .” She grinned a wicked grin. “She’s just plain incredible,” she finished at last.

  Slowly, understanding infiltrated my awareness as I took a longer moment to study the empress, realizing what it was that I’d missed. Her masculine attire, her flirtatious greeting, the pretty girls who followed her around. I smiled back at her. Under Sabara’s rule, those who didn’t conform had been forced into hiding, and could only express their preferences in the underground clubs. If caught, they were sent to the Scablands . . . or worse.

  I was a different sort of queen. “Thank you, Your Majesty. You’re quite”—I raised my brows—“incredible yourself.”

  Her mouth fell open as her eyes widened in disbelief. My heart stammered and I wondered if I’d misjudged the situation, if I’d just made some grievous blunder. This was a serious matter. I had no business making jokes or light banter in a place like this. Not when I still didn’t understand the rules.

  A halo of silence enveloped us, ringing painfully in my ears, as it seemed that everyone around us had been listening to our conversation, waiting to see how the new queen reacted to the empress. Maybe she’d been a test of my tolerance.

  Maybe I was simply a fool.

  I searched the room, looking for Brooklynn and Aron, and instead I found Zafir. I beseeched him with my eyes to save me, but like before, when I’d met Neva, he remained stone-faced.

  And then she let out a howl of laughter, Empress Filis, as she reached for me, draping her arm around my neck. “You’re going to fit in just fine,” she said exuberantly. “Come on, let’s see if you’re ready for Hestia.”

  I wasn’t, as it turned out, ready for Hestia. Or “Queen Hestia,” as would have been proper, if she hadn’t been so . . . so odd.

  Queen Hestia, as Xander had warned me, preferred not to be addressed by her title, but rather by her country’s name. And in turn, she addressed the other royals by their queendoms.

  “Lochland,” Empress Filis managed to keep her jovial voice dry as she greeted the other queen who carried a small dog in her arms. I remembered, too, what Xander had told me about the Hestia’s affinity toward dogs.

  “Imperial Brasil,” Hestia beamed. “Lovely to see you again! And you,” she said, handing the dog to a harried-looking woman who stood at her side. The dog growled at being passed off, and the woman holding him winced, pulling her chin away from it, as if she actually feared the animal might try to bite her. “You must be Ludania!” She reached for my hands and stood back, appraising me. “Oh my, yes, you are as exquisite as I’ve heard. Just look at that skin. . . . It positively glows!”

  I swallowed a lump, wishing I’d listened to Brook and had tried powdering my cheeks. Not that I expected to keep something so conspicuous a secret, exactly—that would be near impossible—but I preferred to draw as little attention as possible.

  Except that now everyone seemed to be looking my way.

  I tried to smile, but my lips felt stiff. I was worried that I might be sneering instead.

  To my right, the crowd parted with a rush of low murmurs, and a woman with soft brown hair and warm eyes appeared. “Astonia,” Hestia said, releasing my hands. “Have you met Ludania? Ludania, this is Astonia.”

  Astonia bordered my country to the east, so I knew who she was immediately: Queen Elena. Like mine—or rather like the borrowed gown I wore—her dress was plain in comparison with some of the other royals in attendance.

  Elena stepped forward, a small smile tugging at her pink lips. “It’s more than a pleasure, Queen Charlaina.” She hesitated, as if she was as unsure how to greet me as I was to greet her. And then she hugged me. “I’m so glad you decided to attend,” she whispered in my ear.

  I smiled as some of my doubts lifted. “Xander said you might be here,” I said loud enough for the others to hear. Xander had told me what she’d done for the resistance, in an effort to help him fight his grandmother. But despite the loyalty she’d shown to Xander, there was still a part of me that bristled at her betrayal of another queen. I dropped my voice as I kissed her cheek. “But cross my borders without permission again, and you and I will have a serious problem.”

  She didn’t so much as flinch from my quiet warning. Instead she drew back, a smile still pasted on her lips. Aware that the others were watching us, she addressed only my original comment. “It was the least I could do.” Her voice was earnest as she reached out to squeeze my hands in both of hers. “I count Xander among my dearest of friends. I can only hope to add you to that list as well.”

  Sabara stirred within me, reminding me that we weren’t alone. That I was never alone. Don’t trust her, she warned on a dark gust that made me shudder. Don’t trust any of them.

  But it was Sabara I didn’t trust. Sabara who waited for her opportunity to take my place.

  Five queens and eight ambassadors later, I finally found my way to Brooklynn. She’d somehow managed to slip away from Sebastian, losing him among the throng of royal emissaries.

  “I’m not sure I can do this,” I whispered. “I think some of them might be crazy.”

  “Who’s crazy?” Brook asked, keeping her voice low.

  “The queens, Brook. Hestia calls me Ludania. And the way they talk to each other . . . This whole thing is just so . . . They’re so . . . strange.”

  Brook pulled me away from the crowd. “Of course they are,” she said, smiling wistfully. “Think about the kind of lives they’ve had, everyone bowing down to them, doing whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. How weird would that be?”

  I raised my eyebrows, reminding her that was my life now. “It is weird.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve only been dealing with it for a few months,” Brook countered, waving off my argument with a flit of her hand. She glanced around to ma
ke sure no one was listening to us. “Imagine growing up that way. Imagine never having anyone tell you no or never wanting for anything.”

  “I can’t,” I admitted. It was hard enough trying to imagine what it would be like to spend the rest of my life this way, let alone never knowing anything different. I suppose it made sense that their views of the world would be somewhat distorted . . . their perceptions warped.

  Still, I didn’t know how much more I could take.

  “Well, trust me, if you were uncomfortable, it didn’t show. I’ve been watching you, and you’ve charmed the pants off everyone, Charlie.” Brook reached out and smoothed a strand of my flyaway hair from my cheek. The sideways grin was back. “It isn’t all bad, is it?”

  “Honestly?” I asked, biting my lip. “I couldn’t remember anything Xander taught me. I’m an utter failure as a queen. I curtsied to Queen Langdon . . . who then spit at my feet. And I’m not even sure she’s the one who spits. I think she just didn’t like me.” Brook eyed my shoes warily, but I ignored her. “And then I almost fell on my butt when I tried to do that strange backward bow to Empress Thea. I swear I heard her laugh at me, and not in a good way.

  “I don’t get it, Brook. Why can’t we just . . . ? I don’t know, say ‘hello’ like everyone else? Why do there have to be so many rules?” I chewed my lip. “I did like Queen Elena, though. I can see why Xander enlisted her help against Sabara.”

  Aron found us then, slipping out of the buzzing commotion. The girl in the red dress was still on his arm. “So? What do you think of our girl? She cleans up nice.”

  Heat unfurled in my stomach, reaching all the way up to my cheeks. “Thank you.”

  “I wasn’t talking about you, Charlie.” Aron was grinning at me.

  I blinked, and realized he meant the girl beside him, the one in the red dress.

  It took several moments for my brain to accept that it was Avonlea I was staring at. Avonlea with her almost-blue eyes. Her hair was darker now than I remembered it, with just a hint of fire streaked through it, and shinier than I’d have thought possible. Her bowed lips were painted to match the crimson of her dress.