The Essence (8 page)

Fueled by his unnecessary praise, I could feel my cheeks glowing. . . . in every sense of the word. His fervent support was both sweet and humbling.

“And if I don’t?”

He lifted his head, his forehead resting against mine, his gray eyes luminescent in the light coming off me. “Then it’ll be an adventure, won’t it? Either way, I plan to be there, watching over your every step.”

I sagged, letting the panic that had been weighing on me slip away. “You’re coming then?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

niko

Pacing seemed to quiet his mind, but there was nothing he could do about the fire that ripped through him.

He hadn’t felt that kind of heat in more years than he cared to count.

It was her. It was most definitely her. He’d recognized it the moment he’d come face to face with her, the moment he’d nearly forgotten to bow before a queen.

Yet it wasn’t
who
she was he cared about, it was that flare of something within him he’d believed was long dead. That unnamable something that sparked to life the instant she looked at him with those pale blue eyes.

It was good to be alive again, he thought before he could quell the notion. But why the hell did she have to be this young queen? Why here? Why now?

Maybe it would have been better if that part of him had stayed buried, dead, after all.

Maybe ignorance truly was bliss.

It was too late now, though. The thoughts had been stirred, the feelings ignited. He wouldn’t be able to tell himself just to forget about her. She was here.

She was close.

v

The ambassador had left early the morning after his arrival, carrying with him my acceptance to attend the summit. I was both terrified and exhilarated. Now, besides preparations for my visit into the city, I had to cram in a lifetime of foreign decorum training into the two weeks before it was time to depart for the summit.

In my lessons, I discovered that greeting another queen with a friendly hello, or even a stately—and in my opinion, respectful—bow was completely unacceptable in many countries. Instead, I was forced to memorize the customary greetings for each nation whose queen would be in attendance at the conference. Or more important, which greeting would be considered offensive to which monarch. Queens, apparently, were a testy lot—something I not only needed to understand, but was expected to emulate in some people’s opinion.

I even learned that there was a customary greeting for me, as ruler of Ludania.

It was ridiculous of course; any greeting would be fine. Although I was glad to have been warned that in one queendom it was considered polite to spit at the queen’s feet, I supposed I’d have been taken aback if someone had spit at me without warning.

Still, there were lessons for every conceivable convention I’d need to follow at the summit, from table manners to how I sat in my chair—including the position of my hands on my lap—
to the order in which we were permitted to enter and exit a room.

None of it mattered to me. Not really. Except in the sense that it might get me what I wanted, and that not knowing these things might stand in the way of the goods and services I hoped to barter for my country. The alliances I hoped to forge in the event I might ever need to call upon another country for help.

In that sense, these were some of the most important lessons I’d ever learned. Some of the most valuable tools at my disposal.

Even better than my ability to decipher languages.

To make matters worse—and they had most definitely gotten worse than the never-ending tutorials—there were dozens of fittings to stand still for, something I hated almost as much as the daily riding lessons I was now subjected to.

I also knew that the train lines went only so far, and many of those, even within the borders of Ludania, were still under repair after years of revolutionary battles and sieges. Many a train line had been cut in order to tighten the rebels’ stranglehold on Sabara.

Which meant there would be times when our journey would be on horseback . . . an idea that made my skin prickle with gooseflesh.

The only things I could no longer manage were my fighting lessons with Zafir. My dreams of being a valiant warrior had gone up in smoke.

Now, even as I stood stock-still in front of the wide windows of the library, listening while Xander listed the queens I had the best chance of collaborating with, the ones with whom I had the most in common, every muscle in my body ached from the punishing lessons Sebastian had been subjecting me to.

Brook, whom I’d badgered into riding with me, seemed to feel none of what I did. In fact, I would have wagered she was enjoying herself.

I swear she liked the beasts.

It was so unfair.

“Charlie? Were you listening?” Xander’s tone was scolding, like one of the schoolteachers from the vendors’ school Brook and I had been forced to attend throughout our childhood, where Parshon was the only language we’d been permitted to speak.

“Of course I’m listening. You think I’m not paying attention? I know this is important.”

Challenge flashed in his eyes. “Then what did I say?”

Searching my memory, I struggled to recall some of the words I might have heard even after I’d stopped letting them register. “You said”—I stalled, thinking I couldn’t be too far off if I guessed it was something about a queen. Everything was about queens these days—“that Queen Langdon prefers the company of dogs over people.” I tried not to make it sound like a question, but there was no real conviction behind my words. Even Xander could hear that.

He smiled, and I felt a surge of pride. I wondered how in the world I’d managed to get it right when I’d barely heard him talking.

“I did say that,” he said slowly. Too slowly. He moved closer to me, circling like a predator about to go for the throat. I followed him with only my eyes, trying to keep my stiff neck in one place. “In fact, I believe it was
yesterday
that I said that,” he clarified, narrowing his gaze as he disappeared behind me, to where I could no longer see his derisive expression. When he came back around, back into my line of sight, he added, “And about Queen Hestia . . . not Langdon.” He sighed then. “Charlaina, please, this is serious.”

“Fine. I wasn’t listening. There’s too much; I’ll never learn it all in time.” I dropped my aching shoulders, tired of pretending. “I want Baxter back,” I whined. “At least he doesn’t yell at me when I get . . . tired.” I sagged bonelessly into one of the tapestry-upholstered chairs that was worth more than our entire home had been—probably more than our entire city block—when we’d lived in the west side of the Capitol, where most vendors dwelled. Or at least where they dwelled when the classes were still divided. Now they could live in any home, in any part of the city they chose. Their children were free to attend any school and make their own decisions about the clothing they wore, what they studied, and what they wanted to be when they grew up.

The possibilities for the people of Ludania were endless. It’s how I’d always wanted to live.

There was a rap on the door, and Zafir stepped inside.

“I’m sorry to barge in, Your Majesty. Word just came from the Capitol of another protest against the New Equality.”

I rose from my chair, exchanging a quick glance with Xander. Protesting wasn’t unusual, or even unlawful, under my rule. There had been several since the announcement that the class system was being abolished. “Was it violent?” I asked, wondering why Zafir felt the need to interrupt.

“Not particularly. But there were effigies burned during the gathering.”

“Effigies?” Xander asked, his eyes narrowing. “In whose likeness?”

But we both knew the answer to his question, even before Zafir’s voice came, filling the taut silence. “In yours, Your Majesty.”

Inwardly, I recoiled, but somehow managed to nod, turning my back to the two of them, so they couldn’t see the strain on my face.

Fear and confusion I could understand. Change was frightening for everyone. The integrations were tricky. Former Counsel people didn’t want those who’d been born of the Vendor class living next door to them, didn’t want their children going to the same schools. And Vendors didn’t want to live among servants.

I didn’t know how to make them understand that class no longer mattered. That everyone was equal. People living with people. Children attending school with children.

It still astounded me that anyone would want to go back to the old ways. To curfews and segregation and being told where, when, and what they could speak. To live in fear of being sent to the gallows for miscalculating a simple glance.

“Maybe Max was right, maybe Ludania needs me here. Maybe I’m not ready for such a”—I closed my eyes, having a hard time forming the words—“such an important task.”

Xander’s reaction was not at all what I’d expected. I thought he might give me a pep talk, assure me that, of course, I was ready. Say something—anything—to allay my concerns, the way Max had done.

But Xander wasn’t Max. Xander was hard. He was steely and determined, and rarely minced words. He’d turned his back on his family because he wanted a different kind of life. He’d led his friends and comrades into battle, watching some of them die for his cause. And he had the scars to prove it.

Literally, I thought as he came to stand in front of me, and I noticed, for the first time in a very long time, the scar that slashed across his face. Normally, I didn’t even see it. It had become invisible to me.

Today, it was all I could look at.

“We don’t have time for you to be ‘tired.’” His voice was low, but firm. “You’re a queen, not a child. Start acting like one.”

Zafir took a warning step toward Xander, but I raised my hand to stop him. I didn’t need his help. I lifted my chin. Fire beat through my veins now.

“I’m
your
queen, in case you’ve forgotten. You can’t speak to me like that, Xander. Not now. Not ever.” I met his gaze directly now, daring him to challenge me. I hated saying the words and my throat constricted around them even as they spilled from my lips, a harsh admonition.

Xander grinned then, a wide, self-satisfied grin that made the scar across his cheek pucker like a shiny smirk.

I crossed my arms, trying to maintain my anger, but too baffled by his reaction. One minute he was yelling at me, the next he was smiling like a fool.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” he stated crisply, succinctly. “But that’s exactly the kind of queen you need to be when you go to the summit.”

My frown deepened.

Xander reached for my hand, and even without looking I could feel Zafir stiffening. His protective nature was rivaled only by Eden’s. Xander’s fingers felt like the coarse polishing cloths used by cabinetmakers to buff wooden edges until they were smooth and ready to be finished. Hands that had toiled and warred.

His voice was softer now, and for a moment I understood the reason that Eden’s moods shifted whenever Xander was near. I wondered if he spoke to her like this. If, when they were alone, he ever used the persuasive tone he was using on me. “A queen needs to be strong and resolute. She can’t let others push her around, Your Majesty.” The inflection he put behind those two words—words I generally despised—gave them a whole new meaning. They sounded fresh and new, like a breaking dawn might sound. Like a pledge. Goose bumps shivered over my arms, but I didn’t move to rub them away. I held his gaze. “You,” he said, bowing all the way to the ground before me, “are becoming a true queen.”

vi

The vehicle came to a sudden stop in front of the large, polished school building and my fingers edged up to the glass that separated me from the real world. I told myself I could do this, even as my hands trembled.

“I never thought I’d be here again,” I said breathlessly, more to myself than to anyone else. I was surprised, standing there now, to realize that so little had changed in the past months, despite the fact that
everything
was different now. The school looked exactly as it had before. Even the name was the same: the Academy.

Except that starting today there were no more restrictions on who could attend. Everyone would be allowed. Children born of all classes, who’d once been segregated by birthright, now clustered and converged on the smooth marbled steps, making their way toward the entrance.

I’d gazed upon this particular building so many times before, and even though it had once conjured feelings of disgust and envy in me, a sudden, inexplicable wave of nostalgia flashed through me as I stared out at it.

Crowds were already gathered in front, squeezed together on the sprawling lawns and spilling out into the streets, body against body as far as I could see. I knew they weren’t here to see the doors of the school opened. They were all awaiting their first glimpse of their queen.

“You’re ready,” Brooklynn assured me, her fingers finding my shoulder. I ignored the quiver in her voice and wondered if she felt what I had, the same sense that we still didn’t belong here.

I simply nodded and reaching down to release the door. Zafir was already on the other side of it, waiting to shield me as much as to escort me up the steps.

Brooklynn remained behind me. I suddenly wished I hadn’t insisted that Max stay behind with Xander to work on preparations for the summit. I wished, too, that my parents were here just to hold my hand and comfort me.

“Stay close, Your Majesty. Not everyone is happy about what’s happening,” Zafir insisted as he leaned down to help me out, slipping his arm protectively through mine.

I stood slowly. All around me everything went still. Silent.

Every person there was watching me. I could feel their eyes boring into me, through me.

And then I reached up and pulled back my hood.

The first gasp was nearby, followed immediately by another and another, and still another, until it was one unified sound.

I waited, lifting my chin and staring straight ahead, too afraid to focus on anyone or anything. Too afraid to breathe.