The Essence (33 page)

I needed Max to stay with me. I needed him to kiss me. To never let me go again.

I clung to him, my hands moving across his bare chest, gently at first, and then not so gently as my fingers dug insistently into his skin.

Tiny earthquakes started in the pit of my stomach, and then trembled outward, raging until I felt like everything about me might shatter into a million tiny pieces. That was how his lips found mine, trembling . . . quivering with a need I had no control over.

His breath was hot against my mouth,
inside
my mouth, as if he was the only thing keeping me alive. I pressed even closer, letting my tongue find his so I could taste him. I was afraid to open my eyes, not wanting to know if I was as alight on the outside as I was on the inside, but certain I was. Certain I must be.

His hands were as desperate as my own, and his fists balled impatiently over the thin fabric of my nightgown, tugging and pulling and dragging, until I heard a rip.

I felt his unrepentant smile against my lips, and I sighed. “How many of these are you going to ruin?”

“As many as you put on, I suppose.” And then his voice dropped. “Maybe you should stop wearing them,” he suggested.

My lips twitched. “And wear what?”

“Nothing,” he growled and tossed me on my back, stretching out above me.

I giggled and meant to shove him away from me—a game—but the moment my fingertips grazed his skin, I was reaching for him again, unable to stop myself.

He dropped down, covering my entire body. “I’ve missed you so much, Charlie. I haven’t slept, I’ve barely eaten.
I
haven’t dreamed at all.”

“Don’t . . .” I whispered. I couldn’t hear how he’d been hurting while I’d nearly let Sabara have control, when I’d nearly let Niko kiss me.

“I’m just saying, it’s so good to be together again.” He rolled onto his side, dragging me with him.

I leaned against him, so I could listen to his heart—my own lullaby, one I didn’t need to decipher.

“Tell me what else has happened. Have you gotten any closer to finding Brook’s father?”

Max shook his head. “He’s been quiet, at least in the Capitol. And Xander hasn’t heard anything in the south. I don’t think his people know where your family is, though.”

I sat up so I could see him. “But they’re good? Happy?”

He grinned back at me. “I already told you they were. Angelina’s started with her new tutor, and your father has taken over the kitchen. Xander wasn’t complaining. I think he prefers your father’s cooking over the palace chefs.” He stretched, keeping his arm around me.

I settled back down, matching my breaths to his. “It’ll be good to see them,” I said, wishing we were already there.

If it hadn’t been for me, we’d have had no trouble at all sneaking out of the palace.

The plan had been simple enough, to leave under the cover of darkness, while the night would conceal us. But what everyone seemed to have forgotten—or at least underestimated—was that where I was concerned, darkness was relative.

Sneaking out, I draped myself in the thickest, blackest fabric I could find, letting Max and Zafir lead me to where the horses had already been saddled and were waiting for us. I rode with Max so I wouldn’t have to uncover my face, which would have given us away in an instant. All we could do was hope that no one had seen us leave.

Inside the cloak, I was suffocated. But I was with Max, and soon I’d be with my family, too.

I had little to complain about.

Avonlea had been given strict instructions to trust only my chambermaid, whom I would have trusted with even Angelina’s life.

By dawn, there was enough light in the sky that I was able to come out from beneath the cloak I wore. For much of the ride, we saw no one. We stayed in rural areas or near tree lines whenever possible, following rutted roads overgrown with weeds. We gave a wide berth to villages and more densely populated areas, stopping only at streams and ponds to let the horses drink.

I told Max all about the Scablands, and about the people I’d met there. I explained Avonlea’s situation, which I’d already talked about, but which I felt compelled to probe and examine, trying to figure out how things had gotten so out of hand in Ludania. How people had become a commodity.

Max agreed with me, that changes needed to be made. We all did. When talk of reorder and revolutions and homecomings wore thin, I stretched and yawned, and stretched some more as I leaned back against him, closing my eyes.

“Charlie.” I heard him whisper against my ear. “Charlie, wake up. We’re here.”

I was alert in an instant, anxious to see—and hold—my family at long last.

The estate where they’d been living was so much more than I’d expected, almost like a second palace. It was wooded here, surrounded by tall forests with old-growth trees draped with moss and vines. There were ferns and wildflowers and ponds. It was more remote and less manicured than the palace, but no less striking in its splendor.

I guessed that this fell into the category of things I still didn’t know, of which there were more than I could count now.

Xander was waiting for us, and behind him I saw my parents. Behind them, Angelina.

Without thinking, I drew my heels against the horse beneath us, spurring Max’s horse myself. “Yah,” I cried out.

The horse responded, startling Max, who tightened his grip on both me and on the reins. “Dammit, Charlie, a little warning.”

I was grinning though, at the same time tears slipped down my cheeks. “She’s so beautiful,” I breathed in response, unable to tear my gaze away from my little sister. Warmth sprang from my gut, spreading to my weary limbs. I was grateful Angelina was safe. Grateful we’d hidden her from Jonas Maier and his followers.

But I wasn’t the only one who was anxious, and my father jumped in front of us, forcing Max to make an abrupt stop. When he grabbed me, I was no longer the queen. I was four again—his little girl. He swung me in a wide circle and then he hugged me to his chest, pressing fat kisses to my wet cheeks.

He was talking, too, but I couldn’t hear him over my sobs. Then my mom was there, and we were a tangle of arms and hands and faces and jumbled words. I never wanted to let go. I never wanted to be away from them again.

It wasn’t until I realized Angelina was still standing apart from us, that I peeled myself from my parents’ grasp. Angelina, who looked so alone there, worry filling her clear blue eyes.

I held my arms open for her, smiling so brightly I was sure I’d blind her.

She took a step away from me.

I looked to my parents, and then back to Angelina. “What is it?” I asked. And when she didn’t answer, I turned to Max and Aron and Brooklynn. But all I could see was bewilderment in their faces.

“Angelina . . . ?” I tried again, coming closer but feeling crestfallen. “It’s me.”

She frowned, and then blinked, then turned and raced away from me, leaving Eden to run after her.

brooklynn

Brook sat on the steps and stared up at the moon. It was a different moon here than the one she’d been watching during their travels through the Scablands, different from the one she’d spied through the icy windows of Vannova.

This was their moon—a Ludanian moon.

She knew she was being fanciful, but she couldn’t help herself. It had been a hard journey and it felt good to be home, even if they were still sleeping in strange beds. Something about the warmer climate and the sound of Englaise on every tongue put her at ease once more.

Of course, Charlie’s father’s cooking hadn’t hurt either.

She thought about the old days, and wondered if she was missing out on a normal life because she was the commander of the armed forces.

She smiled to herself at the notion of working in the restaurant once more, of doing homework and chores. Of doing all the things that others had forced on her.

She leaned back, letting the tips of her loose hair brush the concrete step behind her.

“What are you grinning about?” Aron’s voice cut through her reverie, bringing her back to reality.

Brook sat up, leaning her elbows on her knees while Aron took a seat beside her. “Just thinking how nice it is to be here.” It felt strange opening up to him—just being herself—but she was too tired to banter.

“It is good. Strange, but good.”

“Why strange?” Brook wondered, giving Aron a skeptical look.

He shrugged, glancing at her. “I don’t know. I kind of liked it when we were out on the Scablands.”

“Really? What part did you
kind of like
? The part where we were freezing? Or practically starving? Or was it that we didn’t know where Charlie was?” She shook her head, brushing her hands on the hem of her pants. “Oh, wait, I know, it was the part where there was a killer in our midst. That
was
kind of thrilling, wasn’t it?”

He chuckled. “You say the weirdest things, Brook.”

She laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. “Me? You’re the one with the deranged sense of a good time.”

She was about to get up when he stopped her.

And all it took was a sentence. “I meant because we were together,” he stated, his voice quiet but steady.

Brook froze. Goose bumps dusted her skin. What was
he saying? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Together?” she repeated, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, too afraid to face him head-on.

Her heart slammed against her chest as she waited for him to say something. Anything.

He didn’t. He touched her instead, brushing his fingertips across her cheek.

She did turn then, her eyes locked with his. She swallowed, if only to convince herself that she could. It was maybe the only thing she was capable of in that single, stationary moment. That, and breathing, which was harder now than it should have been.

She could see it in his eyes, the same thing she’d been feeling for days, maybe even weeks. Hunger, longing . . . conflict. She understood it all too well, and was as uncertain as he seemed to be.

His thumb moved, stroking the skin of her jaw and making her quiver. Unable to resist any longer, she closed her eyes and turned toward his hand, until his thumb reached her lips. She felt a million stars burst inside of her, glittering and spangled and white hot.

When his lips finally touched hers, she thought she might explode as she whimpered softly against the excruciating beauty of it.
How could this be happening?
She wondered.
How could Aron be kissing me?

Yet she was kissing him back. Her mouth opening slowly, achingly, as she silently begged for him to tell her what to do. She’d never been so inhibited and so frenzied at the same time.

She pulled away suddenly, before the kiss had even taken hold. “What are we doing? We can’t do this.” But she was lacing her fingers through his. Everything inside of her was conflicted.

“Brook, stop it. We can, and we are.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her closer. “Don’t tell me you don’t want this too, because I’ve waited months for you to admit it.”

“Months?” Brook breathed. Had it really been that long? She shook her head.

Aron just nodded, a stupid grin on his face. “Yes, Brooklynn.” He ran the side of his finger from her neck to her chin, and tugged her face up to look at him. And then he said it again. “Yes.”

Before she could argue, he leaned down, letting his lips dispute her unspoken words, and showing her, in no uncertain terms, that she was wrong.

xix

My palms were sweating as I gripped the door handle and slipped inside my sister’s bedroom. She knew I was there—they both did, Angelina and Eden—but there were no sounds from either of them to greet me.

“Angelina,” I whispered into the silent bedroom.

The only answer was the slight rustling of blankets, but it was answer enough.

I crossed the space to Angelina’s bed, glancing up to see her watchful guard appraising me. I could feel the wariness coming off her in waves, and I frowned at her for making me feel like a stranger in my own sister’s bedroom.

Kneeling down, I leaned my elbows on the edge of her mattress, pretending I didn’t know she was trying to avoid me. “Angelina,” I said again, this time not bothering to whisper since we both knew she wasn’t asleep. I moved my hand toward hers, meaning to cup it, to beg forgiveness for whatever wrongdoing—real or imagined—she’d thought I committed. But she flinched from me, drawing not just her hand, but her entire body away from me.

If I hadn’t known better, I’d have sworn I saw her tremble.

My stomach twisted at the thought that I was responsible for making her feel this way. That I was the source of the disgust on her face.

“What is it? What did I do?”

I waited for an answer, each second my heart breaking just a little more.

And then I heard her, her voice so insubstantial it was barely a breath. “Not you . . .” she said, and I wondered if Eden could even hear her now. “Her.”

My eyes widened.

Angelina knew. Angelina who’d always had a sense of who could—and could not—be trusted, knew Sabara was too close to the surface.