39. Rose Thorns
39
ROSE THORNS
T he scent of apples made her lips curl in disgust.
Luella puffed air out between her teeth, a golden curl tickling against her cheek.
"When you asked to go to the gardens, I didn’t think it would be to sulk," Graves commented from behind her.
She startled, turning her head to eye the raven shifter. His cowl was pulled below his chin, but his hood was over his head, obscuring his eyes, leaving only his mouth revealed to her; a scar cut along the side of his lips, barely visible from the shadows of his cloak.
Luella blushed as she watched his mouth.
A mouth that turned up at the corners, like he knew what she was thinking.
She quickly turned her head away, hand drifting up to brush against the low-hanging limbs of the trees they were walking among.
"You didn’t have to come," she said.
"I did," Graves replied with a voice like gravel.
Always one for little words.
Luella wanted to pry open his mind and peek inside, discover his secrets and desires and whims. And discover what had led him to kiss her the other evening…
At the thought of secrets and minds, her sour mood returned. After she had awoken from her not-dream, she had shot out of bed and paced the length of her room like a caged animal. Ina and Osa had swept in to prepare her for breakfast. Luella didn’t remember much; she had been too stuck in her head.
Bastian made himself scarce. He was avoiding her. As soon as she entered the dining room and sat at the table, he shot up like she was diseased and made some hurried excuse about a meeting before leaving.
She wasn’t the only one who was perplexed by his odd behavior. Tharen had mentioned Bastian would benefit from a… good lay to rid him of that chaotic energy. Well, a good lay wasn’t the exact term the mage had used, but?—
That led her to where she was now, walking in the gardens with Graves.
Luella had hesitantly voiced her request, waiting for it to be overturned by the King, who had sat at the head of the table with a hard and unreadable expression. But the raven shifter had stepped in, saying he’d take her. She was thankful Tharen hadn’t interfered.
The strange restlessness that had plagued her from being cooped up indoors slowly settled into a distant hum instead of a groaning roar, but perhaps she hadn’t been as secretive as she had hoped in hiding her twitching and fidgeting.
A gloved hand brushed over her shoulder. "It’s done good for you to get outside."
Luella swallowed and turned to face Graves, hands clasped in front of her.
"It helps calm me," she decided to reveal.
He hummed, contemplative, and reached up to pluck an apple from one of the tree limbs. The late morning sun warmed her cheeks through the cracks in the branches and leaves. She turned her face up to it, basking in the warmth.
"Here."
Luella opened her eyes to see a red apple held in front of her and arched a brow. Graves pushed it closer to her, and she lifted a hand to bat it away.
"I just ate breakfast," she said.
Graves took one of her hands and unlocked her fingers, placing the apple in her palm. "No, you didn’t."
"Yes, I did." A line of confusion etched between her brow. "You were there. You saw."
"You didn’t eat enough. You barely touched your plate," Graves retorted.
He wasn’t wrong. Luella had barely eaten her breakfast, her mind too preoccupied with everything . The Fates, the supposed creatures called the Umbra and Tenebrae, the book in the library, plans of escape, Az…
As she weighed the apple in her hands, Graves gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She shivered from the feel of his gloved hands along the side of her cheek. It seemed like she was always too aware of him.
Bergamot clouded her senses, and she moved her nose to her cheek to get a breath of fresh air and steel herself from the pull she felt toward him.
Graves watched her silently, the lower half of his face revealing nothing to her.
Luella pressed the apple back into his hands. Or tried to, at least. He could be tenacious, like a hound with a scent trail, when he had his mind set on something.
"I don’t need it," she said, trying to return the apple to him.
Graves tucked his hands behind his back, the side of his lip twitching.
It was sometimes hard for her to reconcile the male standing before her to the one she had first met—a silent shadow standing above her in the quiet of the forest. Vengeful, violent, and taciturn.
With a huff, Luella gave up and turned, walking deeper into the orchard.
She ignored Graves’s low rumble of satisfaction at having won, instead focusing on the array of flowers and clover crowding the ground. A few petals were wilted in this deep winter they were in, but some were ever-bountiful, always blossoming, just like the apple trees, enchanted to stay pristine, even in the harshest of conditions.
Luella crouched down, a hand pulling her shawl snug around her shoulders to ward off the nippy, late-morning air. The hem of her gown dragged in the dirt, but she paid it no mind, entranced by the little corner of life in this kingdom of wickedness.
Who knew a court of serpents could be home to such beauty?
She cocked her head as she trailed a finger along a yellow flower petal, tracing along the edges and down the vibrant green stem. The leaves held a faint shimmer, barely perceptible if you squinted, but she knew what it was—enchantments keeping it safe in the off-season.
Her fingers dug into the red flesh of the apple as she shifted her position. The next flower to catch her attention had petals of white snow, drooping downwards like a bell. These did not have any such enchantments, winter-bred flowers that would need extra care during the warmer months.
The clearing of a throat interrupted her perusal.
Standing, Luella hurriedly fluffed out the skirts of her periwinkle gown, holding the apple close to her chest as she turned.
Instead of Graves watching behind her, she was met with the sight of King Vale, crown gleaming in the faint rays of sun peaking through the foliage.
"King… King Vale." Luella took a step back as he advanced closer to her, his stride purposeful.
He wore no cloak, and the laces of his half-tucked shirt were partly undone. Her heart kicked up to a fluttering beat as she awaited what he would do.
She looked for Graves, nervous to be alone in such a secluded spot with the King—he was the one she had spent the least amount of time with. Even Tharen, she could predict to a certain extent, but not the King.
With glinting green eyes, King Vale stopped before her.
"Don’t let me interrupt," he said, gesturing to the flowers behind her. He appeared pleased for some reason unbeknownst to her and more intimidating, the regal angles of his face striking against the backdrop of greenery, painting him as some vengeful ruler stranded in woodlands.
"No. I’m done," Luella said softly and looked behind her, relief flooding her when she finally spotted Graves, where he stood against a tree.
She tried to offer comfort to herself with lies that he was there to protect her, but she knew the truth. Safety was a long-gone prospect. If King Vale so wished, he could do anything to her, regardless of whether the raven shifter was around or not.
"Very well."
A few twigs snapped under his boots as he walked closer. Luella forced herself not to move further away from him.
"Walk with me," he ordered.
King Vale offered an elbow to her, and the hand that held the apple trembled slightly as she took it with her free hand, carefully resting her palm in the crook of his arm. It felt like an ocean was between them, her arm stretching in an unpleasant way to breach the distance.
"Do you really think that is close enough?" The King tutted under his breath and jerked her closer to his side. His body emanated a constant warmth, and in the bright bite of this sunny winter’s day, she melted into it.
The King started a casual stroll, resuming the path she had been on.
Her head whipped as she searched for Graves, only to find him a few paces behind, hands locked behind him as his dark cloak fluttered about with every step. His hood was pushed back, his cowl under his chin. She marveled at the sight of his dangerous beauty.
Luella’s palm grew clammy against the apple. "What do you want?"
"What don’t I want?" King Vale countered. He looked down at her, and she tried not to quake under his attention. "Everything," he continued. "You."
She stumbled a step. "Me?"
"Yes, you . I have your freedom, but I’m finding I’m not as satisfied with that as I thought I would be."
King Vale led her down a fork in the path, a winding way cutting back to the castle, she assumed. The canopy of trees grew thinner as they walked, more and more flowers popping up, along with a familiar maze of gravel etching patterns into the ground.
"What else could you possibly want from me?" She tried to temper her tone, but a fierceness threatened to betray the swirl of anger teeming within.
" Everything . I want to possess everything," the King answered, words carrying a surety that made her grow sick. "And when you find you have nothing left to give, I will take more."
With that resounding demand hanging between them, King Vale spun her quickly, the act reminiscent of the few dances they shared in the throne room. Her feet answered his silent demand, expertly tracking along the dirt pathway until she spun to a stop on a collection of rocks. They poked through the thin soles of her slippers, but she did not move, forcing her body to still as the King advanced once more.
Her chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths as she faced him. He stood on a patch of green grass, the sun shining down around them both. He took a step forward, and she took a step back, feet tripping on the rocks as she was cornered.
A sly, serpent-like grin stretched King Vale’s lips as he moved closer. Luella didn’t break eye contact with him. Somehow, she knew if she did, she would lose this unsaid game they were playing. All it would take was one misstep, and she feared the King would pounce.
Her calves bumped into a rough surface, and Luella couldn’t go back anymore. She was trapped. And King Vale was almost upon her.
His boots crunched on the gravel as he approached, the scent of burning wood acting as a traitorous comfort, lulling her into a sense of security.
Luella refused to let her walls down.
King Vale stepped into her orbit, hand brushing over her shoulder. "Familiar place, hm?"
And at those words, Luella broke. Her eyes left his as she looked at where he had led her.
Artfully trimmed bushes lined the castle walls, perfect pathways of green grass, a stone bench tucked halfway into a small alcove nestled against the stone walls of the castle, and a collection of blooming roses.
Her face grew pale as the memories assaulted her.
Hands against her waist. Choked screams. Curling vines.
Squeezing, squeezing, squeezing.
Blood dripping and breath rattling.
Thorns and tangles of rope-like roots.
Treye .
He had attacked her here , outside the throne room.
Luella staggered against the stone bench, sitting without grace. Her slippers made indents on the tiny patch of grass, and she remembered the way her bare feet had sunk into it that night; red blood had painted the tips of the green blades.
"Not a pleasant memory?" King Vale asked, sitting down beside her.
She shook her head, unable to speak.
The stone was rough under her hands, but she welcomed it. The bite was grounding against the waves of thoughts attempting to drown her.
King Vale rested a large palm atop her knee. "He cannot hurt you anymore."
"I know," Luella said softly. "I just?—"
"What is it?"
"I had forgotten," she started. "The fear." A wave of trembles made her shake. The wintry air grew frigid, and she pulled her shawl tighter around her.
"Don’t tell me you have forgotten what that kind of fear feels like." King Vale suddenly gripped her knee tighter. His rings cut into her thighs. "Do you need a reminder?" he hissed, voice sinful and low, akin to the wicked creature she knew him to be.
"N-no." Her voice shook, and the King smirked at the sound of her prominent fear, unable to be hidden just as he desired.
The King pulled back, smugness marring his regal features.
Luella wished to knock that crown off of his head and mess up that perfect sense of regality he took such care to maintain.
King Vale reached for the rose bush near the bench, pensive as he trailed a finger over the petals.
"The walls have been repaired," Luella commented. She was hesitant to voice her observation. The King and the others seemed aggrieved by any mention of the attack, but Luella needed information—no matter how she went about receiving it.
She could never even tell the walls outside of the throne room had been destroyed barely a couple of weeks prior. The stone was perfect once more, and the grounds were unmarred by the heaps of rubble and churned dirt that had littered it after the attack.
Right around the corner, there would be grand glass doors leading to the inside of the throne room. If Luella closed her eyes, she could still remember the sounds of the courtiers, drunken revelers and raucous partiers, enjoying pleasures of the flesh without care until that wild revelry turned to bloodshed.
Screams of pleasure that had turned to ones of pain.
Luella’s knuckles grew white as she gripped the stone bench underneath her.
King Vale hummed an affirmative, not caring enough to comment further.
She ground her jaw at the blatant disrespect. But what did she expect? She was his prisoner. A war prize, stripped of rights. To the King, Luella was a mere object.
She averted her gaze, only to find Graves standing sentinel against an apple tree, shrouded in shadows. His lip tilted up as she peered over at him, the scar on his face standing out starkly against the dark shadows. He made no other move to make her think he took notice of her discomfort, her fear.
"So much has changed since you cowered behind this bench that night."
Luella’s head turned to find King Vale looking at her with rapt attention. His green eyes glinted in the sunlight, and against the backdrop of red roses, it made him look all the more untouchable. Golden hair, golden crown, green eyes, red apples, red roses.
He was perfect. And she was just… her.
She nodded.
A lot had changed. Luella still felt fear, but she had grown accustomed to it. That sick churning in her belly was a familiar friend now. Luella knew how to live with dread. Anxiety used to be an acquaintance, but now she thought it to be a close friend. More of a companion than anyone she had ever met in her short and sorry existence.
"It has," Luella said, "and it hasn’t."
The King arched a brow. "How so?"
She worried her lip with her teeth, thinking about how to share her thoughts—if she even should. It seemed no one got her like herself. Why bother trying to explain the mass of feelings in her head when she could just deal with it alone?
King Vale brushed a hand over her shoulder, pulling the edge of her shawl closer around her shoulders. The gesture was possessive. He waited for her to speak, and she caught Graves’s eye in the distance.
The raven shifter gave her a nod of encouragement—or a demand to hurry lest she anger the King with her unwillingness to cooperate.
So Luella said, "I’m still that frightened creature. I’ve just learned how to hide it…"
"Good." But his expression made her think it was anything but. "Smart. Never show weakness, Princess. If you live by that, you may just make it out of here alive."
A figure of speech, she was sure. Luella knew, in his eyes, there would be no making it out of Serpentis, especially not alive.
She sat back against the bench, all of the unease leaving her lethargic and bereft of care as she slumped, shoulders caving inward.
The rose bush beside her tickled against the back of her head. It stretched behind the bench and along the sides of the wall, encasing the castle in borders of thorny beauty.
Luella reached out and traced a finger along the stem of a rose. "Why must pretty things have such sharp edges?"
King Vale shot her a look. "Like you?" he asked, tone infused with a rare gentleness, a confounded sense of belief playing behind those green eyes.
"Me?" Luella scoffed. "I’m neither sharp nor pretty." She tucked her hand back in her lap, fingers toying with the fabric of her gown.
The King settled a heavy hand against her knee, right over where her hands fidgeted. The weight of his palm warmed her skin, and she tried not to flinch away from the unwanted touch.
"Do not try to fool me with your false sense of modesty."
At her look of sadness, the King paused, thumb rubbing firm circles against the top of her hand. "You do not think you’re pretty?"
Luella sighed under her breath, a low, forlorn sound. She was too tired to play games of court and politics any longer. Too tired of thinly veiled niceties and pretty lies.
The first honest thing she thought she had ever said to the King tumbled from her lips. "It’s hard to think you’re pretty when you spend your whole life treated like a blight. Like something to be ashamed of…" She trailed off under the weight of his stare.
He looked at her like she was something worthy to be looked at, even as his prisoner. Luella wasn’t used to such attention. And especially not from someone like him.
The King gripped her hand tighter, the slow touch turning to a fierce claim. "You are very beautiful, Luella. Take hold of that beauty. Wield it. Sharpen it like a sword." King Vale cupped her cheeks between his hands and pulled her face up to his.
She was ensnared by him, utterly captivated by his presence, his ferocity, and unfettered regard.
"Wars are not won with might alone, but with cunning and charm to win the masses and trick your enemies—" He stopped abruptly like he revealed more than he had planned.
Luella combed through the words he had so fervently uttered but could only come back to one thing: your enemies.
Her brow furrowed at the strange choice and his insistence. "I do not have any enemies to trick."
Except for him, but Luella would not share that. Perhaps that was the trick he was referring to. Maybe he knew of her plot to escape and was merely sitting back and waiting for her to act before condemning her to the dungeons where she would wither and die.
Palms spanning over her cheeks, he huffed, and Luella swore she could see the faintest swirls of smoke curl from his nostrils. "Kingdoms rise and fall for a beauty like yours, Princess."
Quiet as a hushed, snowy dawn, King Vale reached behind her, the sleeve of his shirt brushing against her shawl as he reached for a rose. He could have retrieved one from the bush nearest to him, but ever one for games of superiority, the King deigned to assert a claim and take from the one closest to her.
King Vale plucked a rose from the bush and stood. He towered over her, the stem of the rose dangling from his fingers. As he leaned down over her, her hands gripped the edges of the stone bench. Warm breath puffed over her chilled skin as he leaned over her, hand gently tucking the rose behind her ear. Luella winced as the thorns dug into her scalp.
A silent challenge played out between them.
Would she cower? Or withstand this test?
The King straightened and held out a hand.
"It’s the prettiest flowers that have the sharpest of thorns," he said with a soft voice, taking her in.
They both seemed to be equally entranced as she placed her palm in his and allowed him to help her stand. Luella’s knees were weak under her, and the heat from his flesh was scorching with barely contained dragon fire.
Fingertips brushed over the point of her ear, tracing the red petals of the rose that mingled with the gold of her curls.
He whispered low between them, "Yours just haven’t come in yet…"
As the King pulled away from her, Luella was struck by his image.
The sun cast a golden halo around him, turning him into an angel instead of the wicked being she knew him as—the King was more demonic in nature than Az.
"And darling," King Vale drawled. "I eagerly await seeing you in full bloom."
Then, he left.
Back turned to Luella as he walked away proudly, leaving her with a thorny rose tucked behind her ear and the memory of his hot skin as it brushed over her cheek. His head was held high, crown gleaming, and shoulders set back. The branches seemed to bend to accommodate him, and the very ground appeared to quake under his step.
Or maybe that was just the sound of her thundering heart.