Chapter 9 Make It Right #3
"You said, leave," she prodded, breath catching as Tharen tugged the furs she had pulled to her chest, concealing her bareness.
Underneath, the dress stuck uncomfortably to her waist, tangled around her legs, feathers tickling her skin.
Her arm shot up to band around her breasts as the furs fell to her hips, one hand braced behind her, keeping her sitting up.
The air thickened at the sight of her, sitting among the dark furs that pooled to her hips, upper body bare, small breasts flattened with the way her arm was held over them. Her lower belly quivered. Their scents thickened.
Tharen cleared his throat, shifting on his knees until he sat behind her, his strong thighs bracketing her hips.
She couldn’t see his face. She stared out at the others as the Prima worked.
The bandages slipped from her flesh, cool air rustling against her feverish skin.
She swallowed as Tharen’s fingers prodded the knobs of her spine, moving up, up, up along her back, growing closer to her wings.
He seemed to be waiting for something, testing her.
When his fingers pressed at a particularly painful spot, she gasped sharply. His fingers stilled.
It was Vale who answered her question. "We are leaving Serpentis. As soon as Tharen deems you well enough to travel."
"What?"
Leaving?
"You didn’t think we could go back to the castle after it crumbled?" Graves’s low, rough voice made her flinch. He sounded angry.
"C-crumbled?" she stammered. "It’s gone?"
No, she couldn’t have made the castle fall… could she?
"We do not know if it has truly fallen. We can’t risk going back and being seen.
If it weren’t for your wings, perhaps we could have, but this is a fine line we all walk.
Those permitted in the castle are loyal—to a fault," Vale said.
"I trusted they would keep your change in appearance a secret.
And they did. Because they knew what would happen if they betrayed me.
Wings are another story. The angels are…
not cherished by all. Some think them too pompous and pure, or some think they should be more involved in matters of this realm. "
"Demons aren’t held to the same standards," Az groused from his spot near her feet.
"I doubt anyone wants a demon to stick their nose in shit that doesn’t concern them," Tharen countered. She felt his finger stroke lightly over her feathers, his forearms brushing her sides.
Bastian pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can you two stay on topic?"
Tharen scoffed, but grew quiet.
Luella hadn’t realized it before, but her demon and the mage were alike—somewhat. They were both gruff and fearsome. Az’s hard exterior hid a heart of gold. She couldn’t say the same for the Prima.
A cool paste was rubbed along her back, leaving tingling sensations in its wake as it was applied.
"The note Tharen found from Merath…" Vale continued. "She wants us to go to the Fallen Isles. It is the perfect plan. We discussed it while you were sleeping."
"Who is Merath?" Of all the questions she could have asked, that was what tumbled from her lips?
"An old… friend." Vale’s lips twitched in discomfort, as if he couldn’t think of a better word to describe this female.
Her chest tightened.
"A plan is already in place for something like this," Bastian added. "It’s not great, but we have no other choices right now. We’re backed into a corner."
"So when cornered," Graves uttered, "you go to sea."
Sea.
The tightening in her chest grew even worse. When Vale’s dragon had carried her to the den, she had been too overcome to grow fearful of the roiling water below them, but now, it was all she could think of. The memory of salt in her lungs, choking her.
But…
"What about a ship?" she voiced hesitantly.
"That is our plan—a contingency. I have a ship hidden in the caves below for this very purpose. It will take us to the Fallen Isles. Once there, we can recoup, find Merath and Emarelia, and finally get some answers about your wings." Vale’s eyes pinned her to the spot.
There it was again. The dread, the anger. She was sick with it, full of it.
Tharen sat back, hands landing on her shoulders. "All done. She’s healing well. With my potions and her fae healing, she should be right as rain soon. Come dawn, we can set sail."
She wasn’t ready. She didn’t want to leave. Fear held her back.
The mage didn’t leave his spot behind her; his thighs were hot against her sides as they wrapped around her.
She reached for the furs in her lap and tugged them back up to cover her chest. The softness of them shivered over her skin, tickling her nipples.
With Tharen behind her, the memory of her nightmare clung to her uncomfortably.
Vale stood and walked toward her. Wary, her neck tipped back as he drew closer.
He took to a knee before her, smoke curling from his nostrils as his green eyes dipped to the furs around her, and her small hand creeping above the blankets, the charm bracelet glittering on her wrist. He reached forward, skimming his long, tanned fingers over the chain of the bracelet, brushing against the bone in her wrist. She shook from his touch, feeling the threads inside her perk up in interest, crackling embers twining around them, yanking them together until she had no choice but to lean into him, chasing after his touch.
She hadn’t noticed her eyelids drifting shut. His finger notched under her chin, tipping it up. "Open your eyes, Princess Luella."
She did, finding him close. Nearly as close as Bastian had been earlier. But the King’s nearness was a stifling sort, making her feel small and unworthy.
"Play another game of pretend with me, darling." He spoke the endearment low, private, careful of the ears around them.
Trepidation clogged up her throat. "What—what sort of game?"
"Pretend to be pirates with me?" Vale’s tone was as soft as soot.
"Pirates?" A laugh threatened to escape her, wholly out of place and slightly manic.
His lips twitched. She noticed a shadow of golden hair along his jaw, turning him less regal, more rugged.
"We cannot fly the flag of Serpentis on our voyage, lest we attract too much attention. The ship is common. So for our next game, we’ll play our hand at pirates on a ship.
Have you ever wanted to be a pirate? Pillage and venture out where few dare to go. "
She had read about pirates before and found them mildly interesting, but the way he spun his words, dangling them before her, made her very intrigued. She found, with him, she could pretend to be anything.
"No," she answered honestly, "but I have never wanted to be an angel, either." She had, however, always desired wings. Prayers could be answered in many strange ways.
She didn’t want to be a pirate, or an angel, or the Princess of prophecy. But she would be all of them, if that was what it took to survive.
Luella walked carefully on bare feet across the damp, slick stone. Her fingers tangled with Az’s as he matched her pace, leading her toward the wooden ramp spanning the roaring sea below.
At the base of Vale’s den, there was a hollowed-out cavern, jagged rocks circling the space where ocean met stone. The sound of the waves echoed off the walls, the storm ripping through the passage that led out to the open water.
Tharen led them all, fire dancing along the tips of his fingers, lighting their way.
Az stopped just at the start of the wooden plank. It was wide, but the wind beat against it, making it shake. Her throat closed up as she hesitated on her tiptoes, balancing her center forward to account for her wings, just as Graves had instructed.
Under the cloak Vale had wrapped around her—a soft, plush, white that matched the purity of her feathers—she still wore her ruined gown.
Vale had shared that more clothing could be found on the ship, better suited for a female of her size.
There was food as well, she had learned.
They kept nonperishable stores in the event they had to flee.
Her stomach churned; she doubted she could keep food down, but her limbs sagged with exhaustion.
All she wanted was somewhere to sleep. No dreams, no fear, just blissful nonexistence.
Perhaps cuddled within the arms of a certain demon.
The roar of the wind and rain outside the cavern made her head pound as the tumultuous waves crashed against the rocks below.
Her body stiffened as she peered over the side, seeing the rocks plunge straight down into the dark sea.
It was nearly black from the utter lack of light in the cave; she could barely make out the ship that was on the other side of the plank.
"No." She shook her head, stepping back into Az, who steadied her with a large hand.
A soft mewl stole her attention. Ven was draped around the demon’s shoulders, golden eyes peering at Luella as if to taunt, scared of a little water?
"You have to," Vale cut in, before she could spiral further. "Just a few steps." He didn’t question her fear.
"I-I can’t," she managed.
"What are you going to do when you’re standing on the deck and look out and see nothing but open water, lamb?" Tharen nearly barked, jolting her from her fear.
He was testing her, pushing her past her limits, just like he loved to do—in the Temples, when he goaded her into giving up her pleasure. He made it seem like her choice, but was it ever really when she felt as though she had no other options?
Below, the sea waited to take her under again, dark and endless. She could taste the salt, ripe in the air, crackling with electricity from the currents of lightning that zinged through the sky outside the darkness of the cavern.