18. Escape Between Pages
18
ESCAPE BETWEEN PAGES
" T his way, pet." Bastian led her down one of the unexplored hallways of the palace, her arm tucked in the crook of his elbow.
She had spent all of yesterday alone, besides breakfast, even Ina and Osa had not shown up to prepare her for bed. They arrived this morning with tea and dressed her, but no more face paints, just a few oils dabbed behind her ears and on the inside of her wrists, before they quickly left.
Luella was wearing a less ornate gown again today—a fluttery, scarlet, and silver weave of fabric that stretched down her hands into points and hugged her waist tightly. Her golden hair flowed free and was unstyled, tumbling over her shoulders and falling down her back. It was slightly frizzy and untamed, just the way she liked it. She tucked a curl behind her arched ear, and Bastian tracked the motion.
The vampire’s step slowed, and she had to match his gait in order to stop from hitting his back. His head tilted as he regarded her. Strands of his silken black hair fell over his temple, and the many silver jewels that lined his lobes caught the dim light in the halls, sparkling. She swallowed, her gaze on his neck as she watched the delicate swirls of tattoos that curled over his collar. Bastian cleared his throat, and Luella jerked her eyes up to his; the ever-present fear that followed her roared to life at the intense fascination on his sensual features, his plump lips slightly parted and brows raised.
"Just because King Vale is keeping you prisoner here does not mean you have to live tucked away in your room, pet. There’s much to do here. Parties, galas, horse riding in the meadows, strolling through the orchards, and fairs in the markets, you’ll come to love it here." Bastian’s thumb brushed over the back of her hand as they strolled down the hall.
This vampire… He was hot and cold. Switching from a captor to the persona of a suitor at the mere drop of a hat. She couldn’t figure out his angle, what made him so interested in her.
"I don’t think I could ever go into those orchards again without hearing the sounds of screams," Luella whispered. She would have never said such a thing in front of the others, but with Bastian, she felt a bit freer. Safer. As free as a caged bird could get, that is.
Something in his expression shuttered, but not before she caught sight of a flash of anger in his eyes. The brown flecks were more prominent today, and it made him look less deadly. If not for the flash of his fangs and unnaturally pale skin, he would have appeared human.
He stopped, and she almost bumped into him at the sudden halt, but he steadied her with a hand on her arm, a tight grip on her shoulders as he stared deep into her eyes.
"If you could have anything right now, what would you ask for?" Bastian beseeched.
"Freedom." The word was a soft exhale.
Pain fell across him in a harsh wave, eyes closed, and features pinched—a tiny crease between his dark brows that made him look more alive —before he once more met her gaze. This time, with a stricken look. "I cannot give you the freedom you seek, pet. Name a desire, whatever your heart wishes, save that one thing. If it’s conceivable and does not go against the will of the King, consider it yours."
Luella felt overcome as her brain spun to figure out a loophole, perhaps. What wouldn’t go against the wishes of such a cruel King? Her parents were dead, her kingdom was destroyed, and her freedom was unattainable. What was left but escape of another kind?
"Books," she said, voice low and slightly breathless.
Bastian nodded. "That, I can do."
He spun, grabbing her wrist as he stalked onwards, pulling her as she stumbled along behind him.
Winding and twisting down corridors and passages, he led her down the halls, and they came to a stop at an area Luella had not yet seen.
It was a simpler hallway, with a lone set of double doors set at the very end. The ceilings were higher here, and the air was crisp like a window was open somewhere, but she couldn’t see one lining the white-painted walls—golden trim etched into the sides; the floor was bare and echoed their hurried footsteps back to her ears, bouncing off the tall ceilings and hollow spaces.
Bastian halted in front of the doors. He placed a hand on it, pausing as he gave her a strange look. "Remember that it is because of me that you have this." His tone was a quiet rumble, yet a firm decree, unwavering but hesitant.
He wanted her to remember this act of kindness. And Luella suddenly thought of silken ties and promises to save her life.
Maybe this vampire was not so cold and cruel after all. The same couldn’t be said for the rest of King Vale’s court, but maybe just this one creature held enough kindness to get her through the rest of her days.
Bastian pushed open the doors.
Luella stumbled into the library, mouth falling open at the glorious sight.
Books.
Shelves and shelves of books. Endlessly stretching on in every direction. The ceilings were high and vaulted, a skylight above letting in the midday sun, and the light refracted as it filtered in, casting little rainbows against her cheeks and the backs of her hands. Kaleidoscopes of color fell over the spines of some of the books that rested on little desks scattered about the room.
The place stole her breath away… Bright and airy, yet still with the distinctive manner of a library. A little waterfall of trickling blue was set into one of the far walls, high, high above. It cascaded in a perfect stream, before falling into a small pool of water. She waited for it to overflow or splash against the spines of the nearby books, but it never did. Even though the water kept trickling into the small pool, it stayed at a perfect height, lapping against the scalloped edges of the golden-brushed fount. Enchanted to forever flow in a display of the most perfectly choreographed dance.
It was wholly different than the library at Solis. The one at her home had been closed off with scant natural light, dark paint on the walls, and a bitter librarian hobbling about with a permanent scowl etched onto her face and a long robe trailing behind her wherever she went.
This place was a dichotomy to its home of a cruel ruler. Open and welcoming. Inviting and pleasant.
Luella could live here.
Alcoves lined the walls, plush seats set into them piled high with blankets and pillows, just waiting to be inhabited. She imagined herself curling up with a book and wrapping a blanket around her and dozing off under the waning light of the sun.
She sighed, heart full of longing.
Luella stopped her perusal of the room, the slow circle she had been making coming to an end right before Bastian.
A blush rose to her cheeks; she realized she had completely forgotten about him as she took in the wonders around her.
If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn there was amusement in his red-tinted eyes. He raised a brow.
“Go play,” Bastian said. His tone was lighter, almost teasing.
Luella waited for the catch. There must have been one.
But it didn’t come.
Bastian merely sauntered over to one of the desks and sat down, leaning back against the edge of the table and never taking his eyes off her. He steepled his fingers, elbows rested atop the wooden surface. It reminded her of an audience at a theater, raptly watching performers of a play like their every move was one not to be missed, like their every move was one specifically catered to entertain the viewer.
That was how Bastian looked at her.
Still as a statue, Luella did not break away from her spot. She waited for him to move, to say or do something—or even for some foe to storm in, wage an attack, and break up this fragile peace that had been extended to her in an olive branch.
When none of that came, she hesitantly shifted, eyes breaking away from his and landing on the never-ending rows of books, unsure which direction she wanted to go first. Her fingers trailed over the spines that rested on the tables. She read the titles, seeing mostly nonfiction and history books.
She had had enough of that. She itched for a story. Something to fall into and forget, escape this nightmarish reality which she currently lived.
Luella wandered around, flitting from one area to the next as she searched for stories. And finally, she found them. With a soft smile, her fingers delicately pulled a worn, leather-bound tome from one of the lower shelves. Reverently, hands traced over the etchings on the cover as she recognized the title as one she had read before and loved.
Nostalgia gripped her, and Luella held the book close to her chest. The old her—who read this book under a blanket of stars on a bed of grass—never would have imagined some version of herself in the future would reminisce over those days with desperate fondness. Time was strange. It made you yearn for even the worst of times and detest the best of them.
She surreptitiously glanced to Bastian, only to find him watching her with a small quirk to his sensual lips. Deciding to ignore him, she padded to one of the alcoves, crawling on her hands and knees across the large seat built into the wall. Half of her body was concealed from the way the alcove was tucked into the wall, but if she craned her head, she could still see Bastian, who quickly chose another spot to sit once he saw how Luella tried to conceal herself from him.
She huffed a sigh, pulling one of the blankets over her lap as she curled up, legs tucked under her and her back resting against plush pillows as she cracked open the spine of her chosen book.
Many hours passed in nebulous silence, the seconds blurring and blurring into one long stretch. And she savored every bit of it. The time ticking away in a strange fall of rippling water and the soft crinkle of pages being turned. Her breaths were joined by Bastian’s nearly inaudible inhales. His scent of bergamot mingled with the ink and paper scent surrounding her.
Bastian’s attention was burning her skin, making her throat dry, but not once did she look up at him, too afraid to disrupt this false safety she had carved out. Even when he started rapping his knuckles against the wooden table he was leaning on—as if he were some small child begging for attention or affection. She remained as quiet as a mouse, knees tucked to her chest as she fell into the story with abandon.
A small table adorned with tea cups, little puffed pastries, and grapes was forced into her line of sight as it was placed precariously to settle next to her on the seat.
Luella jerked her head up, meeting eyes of the deepest of blues.
Graves.
She didn’t know what to think of the male. Now that his secret was out, she felt anger around him. And also fear of what else he could be hiding. What else was hidden under the shadows that clung to him, the darkness that was just out of sight, lingering like the truth of his shifted form—the feathers and the soft caws that revealed his true nature as a voyeur?
She pressed her body further back into the alcove, completely forgetting about her book, as Graves leaned over the seat. He was uncovered, his hood pushed back and cowl down around his neck. But he still wore his usual gloves, and one finger came to notch under her chin, forcing her head up to meet his eyes.
"It’s time for your dinner."
"O-okay," she stuttered, snapping her book shut and holding it up in front of her chest like a shield.
How did she behave around him now that she knew what he was? Everything had changed. A strange burning radiated in her lower belly at the memory of him pressing her against the door, the scratchy quality of his voice as he spoke to her, the way his eyes had glinted as he remembered seeing all of her…
She couldn’t meet his eyes.
Graves moved his hand back and gestured to this small spread of food. "Eat."
The cushion she was sitting on dipped under his weight as he perched on the edge, resting his elbows on his knees.
It didn’t seem like he was going to leave.
Luella did feel hungry, though. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed with her reading, but with a glance up to the skylight, she saw the purplish hues of dusk dotting the expanse of the sky. She shifted her weight, joints creaking from how long she had been sitting, and hesitantly grabbed a small, square pastry that was coated in powdered sugar and slightly spongy under her fingertips. Its nutty flavor melted on her tongue as she chewed the soft texture of the pastry. Powdered sugar stuck to her lips and dusted her hands, she licked her fingertips, glancing up at Graves from under her lashes when he made a soft sound.
"Where’s Bastian," she mumbled around the pastry.
Graves cleared his throat, voice a deep grumble as he said, "He had to step away, but he asked me to bring you dinner and stay with you for the rest of the evening."
Luella hummed in acknowledgment, sugar-sticky fingers grasping a succulent, purple grape, and she popped it into her mouth, chewing softly.
Graves lifted the pot of tea, and a stream of steam escaped from the spout, spilling over the lip of the white teacup as he poured. He silently offered it to her, careful not to let her touch anything but the delicate handle so she wouldn’t burn her hands from the heat.
"Thank you," Luella whispered, before taking a small sip of the scorching liquid. It was an earthy blend but paired well with the lingering taste of sugar and nuts from the pastry.
Graves didn’t pour himself a cup, but he did reach for a few grapes, throwing them up in the air, one by one, as he caught them in his mouth. The action was carefree, unlike his usually withdrawn countenance. She felt the urge to smile.
He settled back against the wall, stretching a leg out as he pulled his hood up over his head to shield his eyes from her.
She could still see the lower half of his face, the white scar that cut into the side of his left lip and up into his cheek, it stood out stark from the dark shadows made by the hood of his cloak. Graves remained silent and unmoving. Luella took a slow sip of her tea, letting the liquid warm her insides and take away the potent fear she felt around him, from his nearness. When moments passed, and he still did not move, she quietly lowered the book to her lap and opened it back up to her spot, peeking at him from the corner of her eye every so often. She couldn’t find peace with him so close. At least Bastian had given her the elusion of a personal space, but it seemed Graves didn’t know the concept.
"I won’t bite, little bird." The scar on his cheek tugged as he bit his lip to stop a smile.
Little bird . Her lip curled. She couldn’t help herself when she said, "No, but you will watch."
Graves tilted his head, his hood falling back to his shoulders. "And who’s to say you don’t like me watching?"
Luella grew speechless under his unwavering stare, cheeks burning.
"I-I don’t," she managed. "Not when I’m trying to read."
"But you like the idea for other occasions?" Graves reached for another grape, and she tried to ignore how attractive he looked as his lips wrapped around the purple flesh of the fruit.
"Never," she hissed. "And don’t call me a little bird. You’re the only bird here."
Grave laughed under his breath. She was suddenly all too aware of the fact that this male had seen her bare as she remembered disrobing in her rooms while he watched from the windowsill as his raven counterpart. She shivered, yet her skin grew flushed.
She grew silent, sipping on her tea as she tried to settle her nerves and fall back into her book. But try as she might, Luella could not quiet her mind long enough to slip away into the story. Graves’s eyes burned her cheeks, and she was acutely aware of every sound he made, the quiet rustle of fabric as he shifted on the seat, soft chewing noises as he snacked on the grapes, his quiet rumbles of acknowledgment whenever Luella peeked up at him…
The sounds were quiet but deafening, and she couldn’t force the awareness away.
After some time, when the glass dome above let in the inky blackness of night, Luella snapped the book shut, unable to feign concentration any longer.
"May I go rest now?" She was proud that her voice didn’t falter, but her tone was still hushed, as though she feared him reaching out and striking her with those strong, gloved hands.
She peeked up at him, and she noticed his lips curved into a pleased, half-smirk, as though he enjoyed tormenting her so.
Luella wished she was different. Wished she could lash out with her words and not cower. But she was still so scared. She felt like she was living in a fog, and one wrong move would dispel the cloud of tentative safety around her and leave her drifting, unmoored, and destitute. Ripe for killing and vulnerable in a den of beasts.
I can’t , she thought. I just have to survive. However that happens. I must.
Graves nodded and stood, leaving the nearly empty tray on the seat—no doubt for a servant to come clean up later. He held out a gloved hand for her.
She placed her palm in his, a little more used to touching him, but the slight zap of tingles that radiated up through her fingertips and to her elbow startled her all the same. Even through the cloth of his glove, she felt it—shocks, like small lightning bolts zipping through her nerves. She swallowed and attempted to ignore it; though, his hand tightened around hers.
Was it possible he felt it, too?
He pulled her to her feet and into his body, only a hairsbreadth of space between them as he lowered his head to whisper, "You may take the book with you. The King doesn’t allow any of these to be taken out of the library, but for you, he wouldn’t mind. I’m sure he can forgo his controlling rules for such a pretty face." Graves’s breath tickled her ear as he spoke, and his words made her flush, her lip rolling between her teeth at the notion he found her pretty . "But don’t tell anyone."
The raven shifter moved to pick up the book, pressing it into her palms before he closed her fingers around the spine. The rough material of the gloves scratched against her skin, but Luella found she didn’t mind it so much. A reminder of who he truly was, something to be kept secret.
She took the book and clutched it tightly to her, afraid he would change his mind.
In her silence, he grew contemplative, and as if driven by some unknown force, his finger came up to press against her lips, deep blue eyes shining like the purest of jewels. Her breath hitched, and she jerked back at the intrusive brush against the softness of her skin. His finger followed the movement, pressing against the seam of her lips. She looked up at him from under her lashes. The pad of his glove scratched against her lips—a feeling like nothing she had ever experienced before. Coarse yet comforting. Just like the male himself.
"Do I have your word this stays between us?" Graves implored.
Luella nodded, and his finger moved with the motion, indenting the middle of her lip from how forcefully he pressed it into her. She had a sinful and traitorous thought from deep within her subconscious bubble up to the forefront of her mind: how she wished the glove was gone and his bare flesh was against hers.
Seeming pleased by her acquiescence, Graves made a hushed, placating sound before gently lifting his finger away.
And then he grew silent once more.
All the way down the lonesome hall leading to the library and back up to her room, he stayed vigilant and quiet, uttering not one word before inserting the key into the lock of her door and unlocking it with a soft click. He pressed a hand on her shoulder and, in a rather subdued motion, urged her inside.
His lapis lazuli eyes burned into hers, and she felt the weight of that heat travel through every bit of her before the doors shut once more, and the lock was back in place. In a near mirror of the other night, she was trapped.
Luella ran a finger down the cover of the book. But this time, her mind could escape, at least.