The Essence

by Kimberly Derting

  I recognized the feel of the refreshment going down, but not the taste. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t meant for children.

  Before I could take another sip, Brook took my glass and downed most of it in several gulps. “Better,” she practically hiccupped. Setting the glass down, she signaled for the attendant to bring another.

  “Not playing the role of commander tonight, I take it,” I said, giggling, surprised at how easy it was to forget about the day’s events. At how relaxed I was just being with Brook again, like the old days.

  She slipped her arm through mine and pulled me so close I could taste her intoxicating breath. “I’m always the commander,” she said with just the hint of a slur, and I wondered what, exactly, had been in that drink. Already, my head was starting to spin, and all I’d had was a sip. When the tray came back around, I waved it away, hoping Brook wouldn’t argue. But she never even noticed. “And don’t you forget it,” she said, her words garbled and unclear.

  I glanced up at Niko just as he raised his glass to me, a dark and dangerous smile on his lips.

  And then Brook hit the ground.

  “Are you sure she’ll be okay?”

  The “doctor,” who I wasn’t entirely convinced was, in fact, a doctor, looked down at me, perplexed. His beakish nose wrinkled. “Of course she will, my dear. She just needs to rest. To sleep it off, as they say.”

  “Who?” I asked, leaning over Brook’s motionless form, and relaxing just a little when I felt her breath against my cheek. “Who says that?”

  He waved his hands in a flourish of bony knuckles and untrimmed yellow fingernails, both dismissing me and emphasizing his point. “They. They say that. She’s just had too much Amrita. First-timers should never drink so much. A sip. Two at the most. It’s for tasting mostly, not drinking.”

  I frowned at him, wondering what happened to his other eye—or rather to the place where his other eye should have been. I stared into the withered hole that bored in his skull. “Then why are they serving it in glasses?”

  He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “To drink, of course.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose; I was clearly getting nowhere. The important thing, I supposed, was that Brook would recover.

  I was marching back and forth after the doctor had gone, chewing on the side of my thumb and listening for the sounds of Brook’s breathing, when Aron poked his head inside.

  “How is she?” he asked quietly.

  I waved him in, and waited till the door was all the way closed behind him. I narrowed my gaze as I assessed the worry on his face, thinking about the way he’d been goading her earlier.

  “I knew it!” I exclaimed, snapping my fingers as it all came together. “You like her!”

  He bit back a crooked grin. “Of course I like her, it’s Brooklynn.”

  “You know exactly what I mean.” I poked him in the chest, daring him to argue—expecting him to argue.

  Instead he just shrugged.

  “Don’t tell her,” he sighed. “It’s stupid, really. And she’d laugh if she knew. I’ve gone from tagging after you, to tagging after her. I’m no better than Sebastian who follows her around with puppy eyes, wagging his tail and practically tripping her with his eagerness to get her attention.” He moved to stand beside the bed, his gaze sweeping over her still form. His voice dropped until it was barely above a whisper. “I keep hoping it’ll pass. That I can piss her off enough that she’ll make me mad when she yells at me. Honestly, though,” he admitted, “it only makes me like her more.”

  I grinned. “She has a way of doing that, doesn’t she? Getting under your skin?”

  He just shook his head, lifting her hand until it was almost to his mouth. He didn’t kiss it, though; he just held it there, his lips hovering above her unmoving fingertips, as if he was waiting for something to happen. And then, when nothing did, he brushed his chin across the back of her hand.

  It was tender and sweet and intimate, and my cheeks burned from watching them.

  “Drunk,” I blurted out. “The doctor said she’s just drunk and needs to sleep. I’m going back down to the party. You can stay if you want, but she’ll probably be out all night.”

  Aron nodded. “I’ll stay . . . if you don’t mind.” He set her hand down then, placing it gently across her stomach as he pulled a chair up to her side of the bed.

  I crept into the hallway, glad to be alone for a moment. Well, alone with Zafir, which shouldn’t have surprised me even though it sort of did.

  I’d told Zafir to wait downstairs, practically ordering him since I knew I’d be right back. I figured I’d be okay in the company of the palace doctor.

  “Do you even care what I want?” I complained when I found him outside my bedroom door.

  “Not really.”

  I did my best to ignore him as I strode ahead, concentrating instead on the music lilting up the wide staircase. It was playful and seductive, the strings and the pipes and the keyboards melding into a symphony of merriment. The circus, it seemed, was in full swing.

  Avonlea was waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs. “Is the commander going to be okay?” she asked, biting her lip nervously.

  “She will be, after some rest,” I told her.

  “Oh, good.” She brightened. And then she leaned closer, whispering to me, “They’re waiting for you.”

  “They?”

  “Everyone,” she breathed.

  I saw Niko, standing outside the doors.

  I didn’t have to be told it was me he awaited. That I was the reason his yellow eyes lit up—and not Zafir or Avonlea.

  I thought about going back, about waiting at Brooklynn’s bedside with Aron. But Niko drew me.

  Go, Sabara urged.

  And I did.

  When I reached him, I let my hand fall into his, already outstretched for me. Our fingers seemed to fit together perfectly.

  He didn’t say anything, just led me toward the ballroom. And I followed, wordlessly. I kept my gaze fixed on the back of his black jacket, at the way it fit across his shoulders, hugging them just so. I noticed the way the curls of his golden hair fell just over the back of his collar.

  We had to pass a pair of fire-eaters who stood on either side of the entrance to the ballroom, and I could feel the heat sweltering from their torches, as they—in tandem—each unhinged their jaws to engulf a mouthful of flames on a stick.

  I ducked my head to hide my joy and wished it had more to do with the performers and the party than with the company I kept.

  Inside, an ensemble of musicians at the back of the ballroom played enthusiastically for the guests who were dancing in the center of the expansive floor. There were more than a few glasses of Amrita being consumed, and I was acutely aware that there were far more experienced drinkers than Brooklynn and I.

  Neva glanced up then and saw me, and without seeing her signal, the music came to a close. Then all the queens lined up, one by one, shoulder to shoulder, as everyone in the room fell silent.

  Somewhere behind me, a man’s baritone voice rang out, “Introducing Charlaina Di Heyse, Queen of Ludania.”

  I stood there, uncertain what I was meant to do.

  “Go,” Niko urged beneath his breath as he released my hand.

  People gathered on both sides of me, creating a human corridor, and making it clear which way I was meant to go. Unlike at the Academy that day, there was no chatter coming from them, no hisses or shouts of dissension. Only silence.

  I stepped and stepped again, making my way toward the formation of queens.

  Neva was the first to greet me, with a cool smile on her lips. “Welcome,” she said, kissing each of my cheeks respectfully.

  Empress Filis was next in line, also kissing me, although her lips lingered longer than Neva’s had. “You’re doing great,” she told me as she clutched my shoulders.

  Empress Thea’s kiss was cool against my cheek and she said nothing.

  Hestia held her dog in her ar
ms, saying only, “Welcome, Ludania.” And I answered, “Thank you, Lochland,” with the straightest face I could muster.

  Queen Elena and the girl who stood beside her each wore a beautiful gown in different shades of bronze that matched their hair to perfection, as if the very fabric had been spun just for them. The girl’s mischievous eyes sparkled as she, too, stepped forward to greet me when Elena did. “This is my sister, Sage,” Elena explained, introducing me to the princess of Astonia.

  The girl dropped gracefully, making me feel awkward and unwieldy just watching her. I could never execute such a perfect curtsy. “A pleasure, Your Majesty.”

  “Thank you,” I said to Sage, unable to help smiling back at her. She had an impish look about her, as if she were about to laugh at any moment. “I have a sister too,” I told them, feeling that there was more that linked us than just a shared border. “I wish she could’ve come to see all of this. She would’ve loved it.”

  “I’m having a wonderful time,” Sage said enthusiastically. She picked up the shimmering folds of her gown as if entranced by it. “I feel like”—her nose wrinkled as she glanced back up at me—“like a princess,” she finished with a playful shrug.

  As I moved past them, I caught the wizened stare of Queen Langdon, the aged queen of Solaris, waiting for me, and I drew to a stop. There was something about her shrewish appraisal that unsettled me, as if she were seeing too much of me. Something that had nothing at all to do with the sheer fabric I wore.

  Her lips tightened, so minutely that, at first, I thought I’d only imagined it. But then her eyes followed suit, squeezing to suspicious slits.

  Ignore her, Sabara whispered in my ear.

  But I was unable to tear my gaze away from the old queen who watched me, and I felt as if she, too, were inside of me now, probing and digging inside my head, searching my thoughts. . . . Even though I knew it wasn’t possible. I suddenly wanted to keep Sabara—her very presence inside of me—a secret, and I worried that someone might realize she was with me. That my secret—our secret—might be revealed, and we’d be banished. Ostracized.

  Then I’d never find the help I wanted for my country.

  Keep moving. Sabara’s insistence grew. She doesn’t matter.

  I didn’t believe Sabara. Something told me she was mistaken, that Langdon did matter. That I was missing something.

  She neither spoke nor kissed me. There was no formal greeting at all, and as the music started up, I felt Niko at my side. “What is it?” he asked, drawing me away as the other queens began to rejoin the party. He followed my gaze to Queen Langdon and I felt him stiffen beside me.

  She’s nothing, Sabara claimed.

  Niko didn’t lie the way Sabara did, but I felt his hand close around my elbow, and he pulled me away. I followed without question.

  “She was reading you,” he said when we were alone at last.

  “What does that mean, reading me?”

  Niko sighed, as if only just remembering that I wasn’t her, that I didn’t know everything Sabara knew. A tender smile tugged his lips. “She can read your thoughts, but only if you let her in.”

  “I didn’t. I-I don’t think I did, anyway,” I thought of the way I’d felt exposed and I shuddered.

  “You didn’t. She didn’t have enough time.” His smile was meant to be reassuring.

  Instead, it was alluring. At least to Sabara. I took an insignificant step closer.

  But there was nothing insignificant about it.

  Suddenly we were face to face, breath to breath. I wasn’t sure my heart was beating, but Sabara’s was.

  “Dance?” I heard myself say to him, and I nearly gasped, realizing that it wasn’t me who’d spoken at all. That I was no longer the one in control. I felt my lips pull into a smile then, unable to make them stop.

  Panic seized me, as Sabara’s words tried to comfort me. We had a bargain, Charlaina. This is what I want.

  Niko grinned back, a wild, uncaged grin that matched my own.

  He took my hand and led me to the center of the dance floor. Bodies parted out of our way like a tide, until it was only the two of us who existed out there, and a million eyes were on us, like stars, omniscient and watchful.

  I placed my other hand on his shoulder and we stepped into the music, letting it envelop us, curl around us, pull us. It was like a force that manipulated and coaxed, controlled and cajoled.

  In his arms, my body became supple and pliant, moving in ways I didn’t know it could. I followed steps I’d never seen before. I tasted notes and smelled laughter and heard colors all around me.

  My world turned upside down, making me dizzy in the most delicious way.

  All because of Niko.

  All because I was in his arms at long, long last.

  No! This isn’t right. This time it was me arguing with her.

  I knew she was ignoring me, and I tried again. I tried harder. My skin tingled, but my head still spun, swirling and whirling, delighting in the sensation of being twirled and held and twirled some more.

  Heat flashed through me as I willed Sabara to give my body back to me. To step aside.

  I didn’t hear the gasps, or the cries. I didn’t hear the murmur that erupted around us, spreading like the fire that spread inside of me.

  I only knew that when I finally stopped turning, when Niko’s hands fell away from me at last, I was no longer helpless and trapped.

  I felt whole.

  I was me again.

  And I was blinding.

  Bitch, I heard Sabara hiss, but she was quieter now. Distant. Less than a whisper.

  “Your Majesty.” It was Zafir who tugged at my arm, leading me from the center of the dance floor, forcing my feet to move once more.

  I looked up at his face, but there was something wrong with it, it was awash in too much light, emanating a glow that was almost impossible to look upon and I winced, lifting my arm to shield my eyes.

  That was when I realized the truth.

  It wasn’t Zafir who glowed, it was me.

  The light beneath my skin shimmered in the way it had before, when Angelina had first brushed her fingertips over me in a last-ditch effort to stop Sabara from taking me over entirely. It was so bright my eyes ached.

  I glanced around at the others now, the gathered crowd that had formed around me, queens and emissaries and counselors and ambassadors, along with servants and performers and musicians. The entire party had ground to a stop. The entire party was watching me.

  I opened my mouth, wondering what I’d say, wondering how I’d explain my strange transformation. It was one thing to have an unusual pallor, to be so translucent I was luminous. It was another thing altogether to actually, truly, contain sparks beneath my skin.

  I worried that I’d somehow revealed too much of myself.

  It was Neva who reacted first, despite my best efforts to come up with something rational. Some logical explanation that didn’t betray my secrets.

  “Bravo, Queen Charlaina! Bravo!” she exclaimed gleefully, clapping her hands together as she stepped forward, her gossamer gown matched exactly to the shade of her skin, making it seem invisible, as if she were wearing nothing at all. “You’ve outdone us all!” She clasped my hands in hers, lifting them to her bosom as she beamed down upon me. “You are the loveliest of us all.” This time her voice came out husky, and I wondered if I’d heard right, if there was an air of envy hidden there.

  She whirled me around to face the rest of the onlookers, lifting my arm as if I’d somehow achieved a triumph and she were declaring me the victor. Doubt moved from face to face, but then I heard one uncertain round of applause, followed by another, and soon the entire room was cheering.

  Cheering the fact that my skin was alight.

  Cheering because Neva told them to do so.

  I pulled my hand from hers as I smiled wanly. Then I fled the ballroom.

  I was still shaking when Niko found me.

  “Charlaina,” he said.


  I shook my head. “Go away.” I meant it this time. I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to hear his voice. I just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be, when I was me.

  The old me.

  I huddled as far as I could, trying to find darkness in which I could hide, but there was none. I’d made it all vanish.

  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 . . . ?