Chapter 7 Golden Balm
GOLDEN BALM
LUELLA
Curled among the dragon’s hoard and the firelight, Luella lay, vulnerable, on her stomach, face hot with fever and back aching, as five males discussed around her, about her. It burned through her blood, but she was too tired, too in pain, to speak up.
Tharen had soothed a sticky salve under the bandages, and it made her skin all tingly and numb.
The heat from the fire licked against her skin, almost stifling with the fever ravaging her bloodstream. Vale had said it was loosening her tongue, and he was right. She felt the lightness in her head, a surreal fuzziness that made her want to divulge every small thing that plagued her.
Except…
The thing that hurt her the most felt like small shards of ice burrowing under her skin, cutting into her lungs with every painful inhale, leaving dots of blood misting the air as she exhaled. It hurt. It hurt so bad she wondered if she would ever heal from it. Could she?
Could she heal from the lies that had been fed to her for years?
All she had ever known was lies, and she wondered if that was all she would ever know in time to come.
Had she been corrupted—messed up too much to be saved?
Was that why she felt such familiarity with the males around her?
They lied to her, too. Maybe that comfort in lies was what she would always seek out.
They gave her what she didn’t know she always had, didn’t know she might always need, and because of that, she felt herself unwillingly turning to them.
For direction. For comfort in discomfort.
She was… the Princess of Luna. And she always had been, and she was spiraling again, and it hurt. Her stomach felt like a lead pit, heavy and sinking. Her heart kicked up in her chest, making her palms clammy, her throat tightening with fear and anxiety.
Something cut into her palm; unfurling her fingers, she found the bracelet pooled within. She had nearly forgotten about it. The firelight and golden gleam of the King’s hoard made the jeweled charms sparkle.
Their voices washed over her. Talking of her. Her body. Like it was theirs to do with as they pleased.
The only ones who did not offer much to the discussion were Az and, surprisingly, Graves. He had been so strange as of late. Her feverish mind struggled to understand why, but she had the feeling there was something bigger she was supposed to be remembering.
Bastian spoke for her, as if he had appointed himself as her advisor. It made her heart clench.
"She can do whatever she desires," Bastian said. "We will not force her. Don’t forget our inability to kill each other, because I never have. That does not mean I will not move the Above and Below to keep her from you, if that is what it takes."
Her drowsy mind forgot that she had barred him from her head as she sent a soft, thank you, and hoped he heard it.
"You truly think so little of me? This has already been discussed. I thought my intentions were clear—I will never force her, and if I ever find out any of you have, I will kill you," Vale declared. "Damn the curse, and damn our tie to her."
"After her—her wings," Tharen added, voice gruff as he sat by her side on Vale’s furs, "the whole mountain shook. After Graves teased her, she froze his glass. If we try to sate her to keep her pliant, she could kill us. That’s not even considering the fact that we might not be able to go back to the castle. There may not be a castle to go back to. We’ll have to hide.
Maybe even leave Serpentis." The last part was said with clear reluctance. Luella found Tharen’s eyes, seeing shielded emotions held within.
What was he thinking? Did he know something?
"How can we hide her if she brings storms and chaos wherever she goes?" Graves pondered.
"The quakes in the Temples could’ve been because of the glamor being removed. I feel it—something is different with her power now." Tharen stilled briefly, eyes falling to her back. "Don’t tell me you all don’t feel it, too, because I know you do. She feels more… I don’t know. I can’t explain it."
Az was still touching her ankle, each soothing brush making her lids flutter.
"You’re right. I feel it." He didn’t speak around her, but met her eyes and spoke to her directly, "Lu, you feel more.
More everything. But if you do not want this, if you want me to help find another way, I will.
Say the word, angel." Every time he called her that, in that low, grumbling voice laced with soft adoration, she felt wholly aware of the wings at her back.
She didn’t know what to say, so she told him. "I don’t know, Az."
She didn’t feel such anger at the thought of being with him—never him—just shy curiosity. Even Bastian and Graves made her stomach feel fluttery.
Tharen and Vale… they were another story, entirely.
She didn’t want to say it. Fear of what they would think, shame that had been taught to her from her youth. So, she thought it.
"Bastian?" Her fingers curled around the bracelet, her cheek brushing the softness of the furs under her as she turned her head, searching out the vampire. "Look in my mind?" It was a hesitant question, a plea.
His eyes were red, almost glowing, as they consumed her.
She felt the brush of him as he went inside her. Soft and cool, like whispers of air as he settled inside her and sifted through the thoughts she wanted him to know.
His eyes seemed to deepen, if it were at all possible, and he pulled away, but not without leaving her with a soft purr drifting throughout her feverish mind:
As you wish, pet, but do not say you didn’t ask for this.
Aloud, Bastian said, "She agrees."
Az stiffened by her feet, a growl ripping through him. "Fuck, no!"
"She does," Bastian asserted. "Trust me. Vale and Tharen, however…"
Smoke filtered from the King’s mouth, but he did not speak. For that, she was grateful.
Tharen’s movements grew jerky as he packed away the last of his healing instruments, tension lining his broad shoulders.
Graves’s raspy voice cut through the quiet tension. "They have dug their graves; let them lie in the dirt."
Luella was too exhausted to feel more than a small burn of embarrassment on her cheeks. Grateful for Bastian speaking for her, curious of the more they spoke of, and dread from the revelations she had shoved down.
Numbness swept through her body, tiny pinpricks of buzzing that made her feel as though she was floating on a cloud. Weightless, airy, drifting. Dissipating.
She wanted to be a cloud, drift across the sky as she stared down at the water, hold rain within her, and when it got to be too much, let it burst free in a swirling storm of rage.
Their voices turned to a low drone the longer she stared at nothing, feeling the diamonds of the charms cut into her palm. Anxiety was a swirling storm within her, clawing up her throat and choking her.
"Dragons are particular about their hoard." Bastian’s voice broke her from her stupor, and her cheek brushed against the furs as she looked up at him, feeling nothing but a twinge in her numb back from the action. Whatever Tharen had done to her was working. Even among the others’ discussion, he singled her out, speaking just to her.
"We are on thin ice being here, pet. Best to relinquish your hold on Vale’s jewels, or you may find yourself facing his dragon. "
Tharen had shifted, sitting on the stone floor beside the furs, Az still at her feet, leaving plenty of room for the vampire to kneel by her side, hands reaching for the bracelet held within her palm.
Her fingers curled around it as she tugged her hand toward her, tucking it under her chin, afraid to give up the bracelet. She didn’t know why, but she wanted it—wanted to possess something that belonged to Vale.
Bastian’s lush lips were parted, his exhales rustling tendrils of his black hair that fell around his temples. Strained, he murmured, "You do not want to give it up?"
Luella shook her head. She was afraid of what might spill from her lips if she opened them.
Bastian’s red-tinted eyes devoured her as she lay amongst Vale’s furs, his fingers shifting from reaching for the bracelet, to dancing softly across her elbow, stroking her flesh as if he were trying to remind himself she was safe.
Looking at her, he said to Vale, "Does it not bother you, Vale, that she holds a piece of your treasure in her hands?
Do not tell me you have not seen it. I know you have. " A secret smile played upon his lips.
Vale paused, their voices tapering off harshly, leaving her to wonder if perhaps she should have been paying better attention to what they spoke of.
"I do not mind." A hiss laced the dragon shifter’s words, then he resumed the low discussions with the others.
Her sluggish mind struggled to make sense of much, only catching glimpses and words.
Ship… sea… storm.
She licked her dry lips, a plea for water lingering upon her open mouth, but before she could voice it, a soft trill stole her attention.
Something was tickling her foot, where it poked out of the furs. She glanced at Az, seeing the demon staring at something with a rare, amused smile.
"What… is it?" she said weakly.
"Tharen," Az called, careful to keep his voice low as if he knew how much her head was pounding, "want to tell Lu about what you picked up for her?"
Tharen, who kept looking at her, even as he spoke to the King and Graves, followed Az’s stare. "It wasn’t for her," he scoffed. "I don’t do gifts."
The dream amulet still hanging around her neck said otherwise, but she remained quiet, watching him, this male who had given her pleasure, stolen it, talked her into it, then held her through it.
The tickling against her feet stopped, the furs shifted as something moved across them, and from her other side, where her head was turned away, she felt the lightest brush against her nape.
With effort, she turned her head away from the mage, toward the thing at her other side that had stolen their attention.