Page 68 of The Awakening of Essensia

“That’s not entirely true,” said Erryn. “If the relics were stolen from the palace, they had help. Connections. We need to check every area.”

“The relics could be moving from anywhere, regardless of summoning locations,” Elijah said. “Axel and Willem will take New Town. Erryn and Vaelira Old Town. I’ll take Vaelira with me to the Noble Quarter when I’m out of court.”

Erryn frowned. “It makes more sense for me to go with you. Vaelira’s not supposed to be this far into the city. She complicates things.”

She wasn’t wrong, but it still stung.

“No,” Elijah said, eyes fixed on Vaelira. “I need her with me.”

Her heart skipped and his lips quirked, like he’d heard it.

“Someone’s moving the relics,” he said. “We need to find them and question them.”

“Torture?” Axel asked.

The fire popped in the grate. A log shifted and fell.

“If it comes to it.”

She expected revulsion. Instead, a cold calm settled over her. Whoever was helping raise demons deserved it. A smile tugged at her lips.

No one spoke.

Vaelira drained the last of her drink and rose, the air heavy with the unspoken truth of what they’d all agreed to.

By the time she and Elijah slipped from the townhouse, the streetlamps had dimmed to a dull glow and mist crept over the damp cobblestones. They walked in silence, hoods drawn low. Every passerby felt like a threat. Every window, a watching eye. Elijah stayed close, his warmth bleeding through her cloak.

“How did Erryn get involved in all of this?” Vaelira asked.

Elijah glanced down, his face shadowed. “We grew up together,” he said, slipping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her in. His gaze lingered on a man lurking in an alley.

Vaelira wrapped her arm around Elijah’s waist. A couple out for a late-night stroll. Nothing to see here.

“You know her father?” she said, hoping he couldn’t feel her heart racing.

“I do. He’s not too fond of me, but the sentiment is mutual.”

“How come?”

“When we were kids, he caught us kissing.”

A tightness coiled in her chest. It was stupid and illogical, and she stiffened, annoyed at herself for caring.

Elijah gave a low chuckle. “We were thirteen, and it only happened once. It was like kissing a sister. It was never me she was interested in anyway.”

Vaelira relaxed slightly. “Who was she interested in?”

He squeezed her shoulder, turning his face enough to hide his expression. “A story for another time.”

She tried to imagine Elijah as a boy. Awkward and overconfident, fumbling through a first kiss. She could see it. His hair longer and unkempt, voice still finding its depth, mischief softening the sharp lines that time and authority had since carved into his face. A boy before the weight of the title.

The image lingered as they turned down another street, and something inside her shifted. The shroud of the prince, the untouchable figure who had swept into her life cloaked in secrets and status, peeled away. What remained was just a man.

A man who broke rules and pushed limits, who risked everything for causes that might burn him in return. A man whose slightest touch felt like more than it should.

She kept her eyes on the road ahead, trying not to let her thoughts spiral. Whatever this was, it couldn’t matter. Not with everything else going on. They turned onto another street, and she recognised where he was leading her.

“The Western Gate?” she asked.