33. A Gifted Feather
33
A GIFTED FEATHER
S omething was truly amiss here.
Luella pulled the blanket higher over her head, the thick comforter blocking out the dim moonlight filtering in through the windows, leaving her in an inky darkness.
Well, what would have been darkness if not for the small chamberstick cradled in her palm.
She smiled as the little flames danced above the wick, illuminating the space where she was curled up under her covers with a soft glow. With her other hand, Luella gripped the book, fingers spreading over the pages as she scoured the contents for clues.
Luella eyed the tiny scratches along the back of her hand and the faint bruising over her elbow, which faded more and more every day. She shifted against the pillows, golden tendrils of her hair tickling against her temples and shoulders. She could barely find a comfortable position with the soreness in her body. Wiggling this way and that, trying to alleviate the ache on her side.
But she would not complain—she was just grateful that she had healed so quickly after the attack with Tharen’s attentiveness.
It had been a week since the nameless army had descended upon the castle, and the throne room had ended up in shambles. Besides the lingering yellow of healing bruises over her side—localized at her arm socket and over her breastbone—and the pressing soreness, she was fine.
After waking up in her bed the morning after Tharen had healed her, Luella had spent the next few days curled up and sequestered away while the others left her alone for once. Besides Bastian, popping in to bring her pastries and more books, staring at her with those red-tinted eyes and a quirk to his plush lips before he would leave, glances lingering on her chest and the bruises there. She thought at first he had been staring at her neck and her veins, but when she had caught him with such a sorrowful expression, cool fingertips tracing over the mottled purples and yellows, she had realized he was saddened by her pain, her hurt.
Luella was not sure what to think about that—her captor feeling sorry for her.
In this gilded cage, she was granted a small reprieve of solitude, spending her time pacing and thinking, and thinking and pacing.
Theorizing and reading…
And no matter how hard she thought, it all led back to the same place. The same word .
Umbra.
In the orange glowing silence under her covers, the chamberstick held in hand, she mouthed the word, scared to utter it too loudly. Tasting it on her tongue, feeling her lips press together around the soundless name.
Luella bit her lip and brought the book closer to her face. Her cheek rubbed against the silk of the pillowcase as she nestled against it, shifting to get more comfortable.
The paper of the journal was yellowed with time, but the pages were strong under her touch. Luella couldn’t find anything more than she had read when she was in the library with Nyx. An entity called the Umbra . And an elusive he .
A long sigh fell from her lips, making the flames of the candle flicker precariously with her breath. Tiny embers danced above the flames, the metal of the chamberstick warm in her palm, and she watched those flames unblinking, her eyes growing teary, but she refused to move her gaze and give in, too wrapped up in swirls of thoughts.
She would have to go back to the library, back to Nyx. There had to be more than this singular book. More information.
Something, at least.
Luella would settle for scraps if it would help her figure out what was going on here. Why the attackers that had stormed the castle acted as if they were possessed… Why some of the revelers turned on each other. And why no one else found it strange.
She had thought Serpentis’s might was unparalleled, but after the events of court, Luella wondered if the kingdom was as susceptible to outsiders waging an attack as the fae were.
As she read through the pages of the journal detailing war and grief, Luella couldn’t help but find it almost an exact mirror of everything happening now—the wars, the fighting, species at odds, and peculiarities she couldn’t even begin to fathom.
Strange how much could stay the same over time.
Stagnant waters stretching across years, untouched and always the same. Hands skimmed over the surface from across various periods but never caused a ripple. Time was strange. And history, even more so—it always found a way to repeat itself.
"You’re to have dinner with the King tonight."
Luella groaned, the back of her hand swiping over her forehead as she squinted against the assault of fleeting daylight against her tired eyes. It was far too bright, even with the approach of dusk.
She had spent all night reading the journal and had fallen asleep with her cheek pressed into the worn pages. Little creases were still on the sides of her face where her skin had smushed against the book as she slept.
"Up, up," Osa called, her red hair like a flame around her.
Ina went to prepare a bath while Osa dragged Luella out of bed and to her bathing chambers with a steel grip on her upper arm, her bruised skin flaring under the maid’s unforgiving touch.
Her chest throbbed in remembrance of pain as she dropped her nightgown to the floor, the thin straps cascading down her shoulders and the silk fabric pooling at her feet. Her skin pebbled with the chill of the room, and she sank into the water quickly, letting the warmth soak into her bones and dispel the tension in her muscles.
With Ina and Osa’s help, Luella bathed quickly. She had a practiced routine down, and in no time, her skin was scrubbed pink and flushed from the warmth of the water, her hair sparkling and frizz-free, half of it swept back with a jeweled comb while the rest tumbled down her shoulders. A silken robe was wrapped around her as she waited for Ina to rouge her cheeks and bring color back to her pale complexion.
Caged and cooped up as she had been, Luella’s skin had lost the healthy, sun-kissed glow it almost always had back in Solis— from days spent reading under the sun or daydreaming beneath puffy white clouds. Now, she looked so pale she could see the faint lines of greenish-blue veins on the underside of her wrists. It took a good bit of rouge to make her face look lively.
Ina brushed the red paint over Luella’s cheekbones, a soft smile on her lips. A short strand of light brown hair untucked from behind the maid’s ear as she leaned forward, face pinched in concentration as she used a soft-bristled brush to outline red on Luella’s bitten lips.
Osa brought in a dress for the evening, holding it up with a hand as her other fluffed out the skirts, dusting off pieces of imaginary lint from the ruffles of dark blue fabric.
Luella’s throat bobbed as she stared at the gown, Ina patting her cheek to force her to be still. The gown was a lapis lazuli shade—the same shade as a certain raven shifter’s keen eyes.
Her stomach fluttered in anticipation. She wondered if Graves would be there tonight.
She bit her lip as her traitorous mind thought, What if King Vale would be there tonight?
Ina chastised her again, poking Luella’s bottom lip with the blunt end of the brush, forcing her to free it from between her teeth.
"Sorry," Luella breathed.
The female didn’t respond, of course, merely went back to placing the finishing touches on her face. A little kohl on Luella’s eyes, a shimmer of silver dust on her lids, and then Ina pulled away with a bright smile, flashing a hint of white teeth. It made her soft cheeks puff out, showcasing a tiny dimple on each side.
Luella felt herself smile in turn. It was hard not to. Ina’s quiet nature only made her more endearing, coupled with the way she seemed to care for Luella.
She had never had friends before, but she wondered if she would ever be able to find something of the sort with Ina…
Osa roughly tugged the knotted tie on Luella’s robe free, jerking her from her thoughts as the silk covering her fluttered open and bared her gleaming, flushed skin.
She felt her nipples pebbling from the slight coolness; her cheeks reddened as the fiery maid tugged the sleeves of the robe off of her, leaving her standing bare in the center of the room. Her shoulders curved forward as she crossed an arm over her chest.
The door to the balcony was open, and the sheer curtains fluttered in the evening breeze, sweeping in a faint scent of salt air and a slight tang of sweetness from the apple orchards on the outskirts of the castle grounds.
Luella breathed in deep, lungs filling with what felt like her first real breath in ages.
Ina tapped her shoulder once before pointing toward the door, letting Luella know she was leaving. A golden curl tickled at Luella’s cheek as she nodded, and Ina left, taking her little basket of beauty supplies with her.
Osa tsked under her breath. "That’s not right," she grumbled.
"What is it?" Luella asked.
The maid curled her lip, tugging at the hem of the dress, hurriedly patting it down. "It’s wrinkled. That simply won’t do." Her deeper voice rasped as she groused, completely ignoring Luella where she stood nude, waiting for Osa to let her cover herself back up with a dress. Or a robe, at least.
Luella wrapped her free arm around her middle; the other still banded across her breasts. Her hair brushed against her bare arms and over her back as she waited for Osa to start dressing her.
"I’ll need to go and fix this." Osa huffed and draped the gown over her arm.
And there went Luella’s hopes of speeding the evening alone so she could retire early, and hopefully sneak out during the night to go back to the library and speak with Nyx…
"It’s… It’s okay," Luella assured, holding out a hand for the dress.
The female raised a brow, the green of her eyes shining in the candlelight. "King Vale doesn’t like anything less than imperfection. I won’t be long. Sit." She pointed at the chair in front of the vanity. "Don’t mess anything up."
And with that, the maid left. Luella still heard her grumbles even after the door clicked shut behind her.
She didn’t even get a chance to protest as the maid took both her robe and the dress with her, leaving Luella stuck in the room cold and bare. She eyed the wardrobe but didn’t dare seek a covering from within—the maid would likely strike Luella in a place easily hidden if she dared disobey.
A quiet rustle of fabric pulled her attention to the doors of the balcony.
The wind was howling, with soft echoes and loud groans, growing more furious as the daylight grew dimmer. From where the fabric parted in the fluttering of the breeze, Luella watched the fleeting, orange glows of the sun as the moon rose to take its place. The sea stretched on in the distance, and the waves crashed against tall walls of stone and rockfaces.
She inched closer, peering out into the slow cresting hues of purple, mingling with the pinks of sunset.
Luella always loved both the sun and the moon. One couldn’t be without the other. Each worked in tandem to keep everything alive. And just like the moon and the sun, Luella loved everything under their watchful eyes—the crashing sea, the salty breeze, the apple orchards, the empty fireplace like a yawning pit on the far side of the room, just like the pit of her magicless soul. Luella wished she could light it and ward off the chill, relax against the plush rug at the hearth until her lids grew drowsy and the anxiety of the looming dinner left her.
A soft caw made her eyes shoot open with a start.
Luella hadn’t even realized she had closed them, but the soft daydream playing in her head had made her hazy and sated with the temptation of it all.
A black raven sat perched right outside the fluttering drapes of the balcony doors, tiny feet gripping the rail.
Her mouth popped open in embarrassment, and she quickly grabbed the corner of the curtain to use as a covering. The slightly translucent fabric didn’t offer much to cover her nude body, but it was enough to soothe her mind. Enough to not make her feel so… exposed.
Luella peeked around the curtain, thighs crossing under the fabric to hide the space between her legs.
"What are y-you doing here?"
The raven cawed in answer, blue eyes shimmering with mirth as he cocked his head. He playfully hopped along the rail, coming closer and closer to her. She backed up, tugging the curtain right along with her, feet tangled up in the fabric.
"No." Luella held up a finger to ward him off. "Stay away."
The raven let out a soft caw in protest, wings fluttering, but he made no move to come closer, likely sensing the urgency in her tone.
"This is the second time that you’ve snooped on me."
A foot stamped on the stone perch as if to say, the second time that you know of.
She gritted her teeth, the side of her mouth curling up in a tiny snarl.
Black feathered wings ruffled out, amused by her attempt at anger. Poking her tongue in her cheek, she stomped forward, almost forgetting about her indecent state, before the flush to her cheeks grew hotter. Her steps halted as she tugged the curtains down over the swell of her backside and over the soft curve of her hip.
Luella raised her finger again. "Stop spying on me! I’m not… decent." She bit her lip, all too aware of her nudity under the flimsy excuse of a covering.
The end of the curtain pulled up against her hip, stretching taut and clinging to her freshly bathed, oiled skin. It wrapped around her thighs and over her waist but dipped down over her chest, revealing the beginnings of a peaked, rosy nipple.
The raven cawed, keen eyes tracking the rise and fall of her chest. The swell of her breasts.
"Ah, wait. Just—" she floundered, skin growing warm under the raven’s silent and watchful attention. She tried to regain her decorum. With a shaky hand, Luella gestured to the open evening sky and the apple orchards in the distance. "Just go."
Without warning, the raven stretched his wings and flew away, but not before a small black feather fluttered to the ground of the balcony—whirling in the wind, dancing around, and coming to rest right at the tips of her toes.
She peeked out into the evening sky and, when she saw no trace of the raven, bent to pick up the feather. The curtain rode high on the back of her thighs, leaving her in a completely indecent state. She ran a finger over the tip of the feather.
It was smooth and silky. The finest of downy with the scent of honey and spiced cloves.
Like the male himself.
In an act wholly unlike herself, Luella tucked the end of the feather into the back of her hair, nestling it right alongside the silver comb that swept up half of her golden curls.
To have a piece of Graves so close?—
It made her feel…
Safe.
Aromatic spices mixed with buttery cloves and garlic made Luella’s mouth water.
She touched one of the utensils by her empty plate, finger tracing over the tiny whirls etched into the handle as she looked longingly at the feast spread on the table before her.
She must have had a funny look on her face because when she met Bastian’s eyes, he laughed.
"King Vale won’t be mad if you eat before he arrives, pet." The vampire waved a lazy hand to the tiered platter of finger foods—nuts, cheeses, berries, and tiny pieces of toasted bread to dip in the spread of sauces surrounding it.
Tharen kicked a booted foot up on the corner of the table, shooting the vampire, then Luella, a look. "I wouldn’t listen to him if I were you, little lamb. That one will get you into trouble."
"Only the good kind," Bastian countered. He placed his chin on his fist and blinked his attention over toward her, the red in his eyes muted after he had drank himself satisfied, no doubt. "The kind that you would willingly fall into."
She gulped under his intensity and diverted her sight back to the food. Luella’s mouth watered for an entirely different reason as she tried to forget the sensual promise laced within Bastian’s words.
"I don’t think I should seek out any trouble… but it does have a way of finding me," she said softly.
Luella was startled when the chair beside her was roughly pulled out, the legs clattering against the floor as a large body sat down with a huff.
From his spot next to her, Graves tugged down his cowl and looked at her from the corner of his eyes—the same eyes that had melted away the sheer fabric of the curtain draped over her frame earlier. Her cheeks heated as she remembered his piercing stare, aware of how warm his body was next to hers, how his clothed thigh brushed against hers as he shifted his chair closer.
A gloved hand rose, and as careful as one might approach an injured fawn, he traced a fingertip over the feather she had tucked into the back of her curls, black peeking out from where the jewel-encrusted, silver comb kept strands pulled back away from her rouged cheekbones.
"This is pretty." His words were said low, like he wished to keep them hidden from Tharen and Bastian, both of whom watched with widened eyes as if the male that had dropped into the seat next to her was an imposter and not the enigmatic, silent raven shifter they knew.
She shivered as that gloved hand drifted down from her carefully styled curls and cupped her nape, brushing over her bare shoulders, exposed by the straps of her gown.
"But not as pretty as the one who wears it," Graves mumbled. He leaned closer, and Luella forced herself to stay where she was. To not shrink back from his nearness.
His eyes sparkled with the weight of a thousand unsaid words as he tucked a loose curl behind her arched ear.
The top two buttons of his silk, black shirt were unbuttoned, and she could see a white bandage peeking out through the tiny bit of exposed skin. Her stomach clenched at the memory of the sword driving through his shoulder.
The sound of her heart beating was far too loud in the hushed room. Graves’s lips brushed the shell of her ear as his mouth whispered over her skin, moving to her flushed cheek.
Pebbles of chill erupted on her skin, and she heard a low growl emit from the side of the table. Tharen slammed his legs down from where they were propped on the table, booted feet thumping on the ground as he gripped a butterknife with white knuckles.
"A sight even prettier was you unclothed. Wearing nothing but a sheer covering. I could see it all, sweetheart," Graves whispered into her ear. "The shades of the setting sun looked far more beautiful on your bare skin than the blues of this gown." He touched the strap of her dress, and she jolted from the unexpected graze against her oversensitized flesh.
Words were stolen from her. Never did Luella expect silent Graves to be so sauve.
"What’s the meaning of this?" The words bellowed throughout the room, making her feel like she was plunged into icy waters.
Luella jerked back from Graves, the male casually leaning away from her and tucking his gloved hand back into his lap. Like he didn’t just whisper the most achingly sensual compliment to her. Like he didn’t just admit to spying on her while she was dressing. To seeing her nude… and liking what he saw.
King Vale’s jaw clenched in ire as he entered the room. The crown atop his golden hair gleamed under the glow of the candlelight in the room, and he strode forward with confidence, eating up the distance between them far too quickly for Luella’s liking.
It was the first time she had seen the King in a week. The first time since his dragon form had staked a claim on her.
She didn’t know how King Vale would act now that his beastly counterpart had deemed her worthy of his care and single-minded, possessive focus. But she assumed this undeserved jealously over another male whispering none-too-sweet nothings in her ear was part of it.
"King Vale." Luella cleared her throat as he took his seat at the head of the table.
His green eyes sparked with anger as he took note of how close she was to Graves. The raven shifter arched a brow in challenge but remained silent, once more returning to his quiet and dutiful self.
From across the table, Bastian bit his lip, flicking his eyes up to hers as he tried to hold back his laughter. The sight of King Vale jealous must not have been common.
Bastian reached for a pitcher of red liquid and poured himself a tall drink, filling the wine glass with thick blood. It almost sloshed over the rim. He took greedy sips like he wished to drown himself in it and escape the disastrous dinner before him.
"Play nice," Bastian mumbled over the lip of the glass before taking another large sip.
Tharen coughed sharply like he was covering up a laugh of his own.
The King closed his eyes, jaw grinding as he tried to muster up patience. Luella didn’t envy that endeavor. She wasn’t sure how the male had dealt with this group for so long.
"Eat, Princess," King Vale ordered. He wasted no time before lifting the empty plate before him and filling it with an assortment of nuts and wedges of cheese, roasted spears of asparagus and carrot pieces, thick slices of buttered bread, and finishing it off with a few fresh strawberries topped with a dollop of cream.
Her stomach grumbled at the sight, but she waited for the King to finish before she filled her own plate.
King Vale pushed back his chair at the head of the table, taking the full platter with him. She watched as he rounded the side and passed by where Graves was still pressed against her, the raven shifter’s jeweled eyes watching with rare amusement.
"Oh," she breathed, surprised when King Vale pulled out the empty chair at her other side and sat without a preamble.
He sat the platter of food in front of her with a slight clang as it hit the table.
"For you," King Vale said.
"I—" she tried again. "Thank you?" It came out more like a question.
The King’s lips twitched, and in a gesture that was entirely against the poise she thought him to have, he leaned his head against his hand and watched her with rapt attention.
"I hope you like it. No meat. I know you don’t like to eat meat. But the bread is very good. The cooks make the butter fresh."
Was he… rambling?
"Thank you, King Vale." Luella hesitantly lifted a piece of bread, taking a tiny nibble off the corner. She hummed under her breath. It was good.
He seemed pleased she was eating what he had provided for her. It must be some strange dragon thing.
"How are your injuries?" King Vale brushed a hand along her arm, across the yellowing bruises revealed by her gown, and she swore a visible path was left in the wake of his touch—that’s how changed she felt but the simple brush of his skin against hers.
"Almost healed. I’m not even sore anymore." Mostly , she amended in her mind, thinking of the few aches that still pestered her when she moved wrong. Luella eyed his broad shoulders, looking for any hint of a bruise or bandage that would reveal if he had sustained any injuries. "And you? Are you hurt?" She speared a roasted carrot on her utensil and bit into it.
King Vale placed another piece of cheese on the platter before her, and she immediately lifted it to her lips for a bite. Soft yet nutty, it coated her tongue. She felt parched from all the rich saltiness.
Luella reached for a glass of wine, but Graves beat her to it, his gloved hands knocking hers away as he lifted the glass to her lips. She tried to take it from him, but he wouldn’t allow it, tugging it away from her grip and placing the lip firmly against her lips, leaving her no choice but to open up and allow the liquid to flow into her mouth, all by his hand.
Mild tartness cooled her flushed skin and chased away the dryness in her mouth.
Luella tapped his wrist, done drinking. She didn’t want to become intoxicated, not here, in front of them. Graves pulled away with a curious, dark haze upon his features as he stared intently at her mouth.
"No." The King laughed darkly. " I’m not hurt." The way he emphasized his words told her all she needed to know. He wasn’t hurt. But his enemies were.
She shuddered as she remembered the decapitated dragon head falling to be swallowed up by the dark ocean waves.
From the way the group carried on, it only cemented the fact that this —whatever it was—wasn’t out of the ordinary.
The attacks. The bloodshed.
And Luella was the only one in the dark, and she vowed to remedy it as soon as possible.
Maybe if she could see Az again, would he know something?
Bastian pulled her from her thoughts as he slid a plump, red cherry on a little napkin across the table. A sensual smile played upon his even more sensual lips, and he lifted the glass of blood to his mouth, robbing her of looking upon the delightful sight of his amusement any longer. He winked as he tilted his glass, a line of red dribbling from his lips and down his chin. He didn’t take his gaze off of her as he wiped his thumb over it and lifted it to his lips, sucking it between his teeth.
Her face warmed, and she reached for a distraction and lifted the cherry by the stem, popping it into her mouth and sucking on the red skin as she let the taste linger on her tongue before swallowing.
The others grew silent for a moment, and she felt heavy stares on her for some reason. King Vale clinked the end of a knife against his glass, breaking up the peculiar bout of terseness that rippled through the air.
Dinner continued for the next little while.
Stilted conversations; lingering, heated touches; a terse air permeating the room like a thick cloud of smoke. No one spoke of the attack besides the brief mention of King Vale asking about her injuries. And every time Luella felt compelled to open her mouth and spew the litany of questions teaming under the surface at the occupants of the room, she thought better of it and bit her tongue, silencing herself with small sips of wine.
Tharen and Bastian whispered to each other across the table, occasionally shooting curious glances at where she was sandwiched between Graves and the King. The whispering was for her benefit, alone. Their low tones were quiet enough to hide from her ears, but not the sharp ears of King Vale and Graves.
Every time she bit into a delicious piece of fruit or perfectly cooked vegetable, she couldn’t help but think of Az, alone in the dungeons and living off of stale, hard chunks of bread and old water from rusty tins.
She pushed away her plate, suddenly full and queasy, unable to stomach anything else.
"Are you finished, Princess?" King Vale asked.
"Yes." Luella nodded, sullen, and tucked her hands under her thighs as she waited for the evening to be over.
Just because the King was suddenly being cordial to her, and Graves had saved her by stepping in front of a sword meant for her demise, that did not mean she was at peace here. Safe here.
Luella wanted to get out. And she would find a way. She just had to go back to the library again and see Nyx. Which she could have been doing if not for this impromptu dinner.
She was hinging her whole plan of escape on the library, she knew. But she didn’t have anything else to give her hope. Didn’t know what she would do if it led to a dead end…
"I think I should retire for the evening," Luella announced softly.
King Vale grew stiff beside her, gripping the stem of his wine glass so hard she feared it may break. "It’s so early. Stay." It wasn’t a request but a demand.
Graves stroked a finger down her arm, drawing her attention to her other side. As she turned her head, she felt something hot whisper over her back. It felt like a breath. Her eyes widened, curious, as she looked back to the King.
What she saw made her jerk back into Graves, almost toppling her chair over as she tried to get away from the dragon shifter at her side.
Graves placed a gloved hand on her waist, settling her as she was tugged into him.
"W-what? What is it? What’s wrong?" Luella’s lip trembled as she was hit with the obvious truth: she would never be safe in this den of dragons.
Black smoke curled from King Vale’s nostrils, his eyes lit with dancing embers, turning the green into smoking, jeweled emeralds, forged over hot coals into mere liquid. Burning, burning. So hot she thought she may melt under the intensity of being pinned under them—pinned by him .
"Where did you get that?" King Vale gritted out through his teeth. Smoke furled in the air between them, and tension popped and sparked like crackling cinders.
"Get what?" Luella asked.
King Vale’s hand shot up, quick as a flash, as he reached to pluck the feather from the back of her hair. She flinched into Graves, shoulders curling inward as her back hit the raven shifter’s broad chest.
The space between the King’s brows crinkled in confusion as he held the black raven feather between them.
He had been talking about the feather?
"From Graves," she revealed, allowing herself to be pulled back further into said male’s embrace. She was almost on his lap but found she didn’t mind it.
A growl rumbled from deep within the King’s chest, smoke curling in the air just like it had in his dragon form.
"You’re jealous," Graves said from behind Luella.
And suddenly, she understood.
King Vale did not deny it, only stared at the way she was flush against Graves’s chest, his arm resting over her shoulder.
He was jealous, as though she was a toy stolen from him and he, a mere petulant, spoiled babe, used to getting whatever he wished.
Tharen barked a sharp laugh, unable to hold it back any longer. "Well, fuck me. I never thought this day would come."
"What?" Bastian grinned. "The bastard actually showing care for something other than his hoard?"
Graves grew stiff behind her, and King Vale shot his molten green eyes over to the two laughing males.
"Hey!" Luella protested as Graves tugged her fully away from her chair and into his lap, his large, gloved palms flattening against her stomach. A pressing heat below her navel; her thighs clenched, heart fluttering from the touch.
That was all the warning she got before the King shot forward in a blur, large arm sweeping out across the table and knocking over half-full wine glasses and towers of assorted pastries the kitchen had brought out for dessert.
Bastian’s pitcher of blood tipped over toward her, red rivulets soaking the tablecloth and dropping onto her lap. A few splatters got on the back of Graves’s gloved hand that pressed over her stomach, and he growled, removing his hand momentarily to tug off the dirtied glove with his teeth, spitting it out on the floor. Now bare, his hot palm caressed her chest, ghosting over the yellowed bruising on her arm socket and breastbone as he gave King Vale his full attention, male satisfaction and pride evident in the raven shifter’s posture as he cradled her to him.
Luella felt herself grow weak under his careful, exploratory touches, her back sinking into his chest further.
Tharen barked another laugh, and the King reached across the ruinous table to wrap a hand around the mage’s throat. Tharen did not bat an eye, as though he was used to such explosive violence—craved it even, from the way he licked his lips.
"The real feast has just begun," Tharen said, lips curling up in a wicked grin. He made no move to shrug off the King’s touch, just sat back and waited.
King Vale’s grip tightened, knuckles near white as his tongue poked his cheek, hot fury radiating off of him in waves.
"Fuck!" the King cursed, ripping his hand away from Tharen and settling heavily back into his seat.
The whole exchange made Luella confused. King Vale was known for his cruelty. If he was angered by the words of anyone—let alone his court—he should have no qualms about putting them in their place. But it was like he was being physically held back from making a move against the mage.
Bastian was still as stone in his seat, not at all amused like Tharen was.
King Vale pointed an angry finger at the pair before swinging it over to where Luella was nestled in Graves’s lap, the raven shifter’s fingers clenched against her stomach, making her throat grow dry.
"Be grateful that I cannot—" The King stopped himself from continuing, looking to Luella. "Be grateful," was all he said before roughly pushing his chair back and standing. He stopped by Luella, lifting the feather and tucking it behind her ear.
She watched him leave with a frown on her lips.
If he was so jealous by the sight of the feather, why did he willingly give it back to her?