Chapter 9 Make It Right #4
A booming call of thunder roared outside, making her flinch.
She wavered on her feet, heart stuck in her throat as her eyes darted to the steep drop below the plank, where the water crashed against the rocks.
The fire in Tharen’s hands turned everything into a golden amber hue, but it couldn’t reach the sea below them.
She knew she had no other choice, and she knew they had to walk alone across it. It wouldn’t hold up with two bodies on top of it.
"I’ll go first," Tharen proclaimed. He whistled sharply, calling his three wolves to him.
They trotted by his feet, and he stilled them with a raised palm.
They sat, watching as their master walked across the plank with an ease that she envied.
The distance was short—no longer than her body if she lay down—but it felt vast and endless. How did he make it look so easy?
From the other side, she watched as the Prima arched a brow. His wolves trotted after him, the smallest of the three yipping slightly.
Next up was Bastian, who stopped by her side and whispered lowly, "It’s safe… I swear it to you, and even if it wasn’t, I would make sure you stayed safe." She didn’t have a chance to respond before he crossed it as well, red eyes flashing in the dark as he looked at her entreatingly.
Luella watched as the raven shifter placed a foot on the wooden plank.
It groaned under him. His black hair was longer at his nape, curling slightly as he had let it grow out.
He turned his head, watching her watch him, and then, in a swift movement, he spun, balancing on his tiptoes much like she was.
He faced her on the plank, as he took a few steps back, toward the ship, his eyes never leaving hers.
Her hand fluttered forward, reaching for him, but he took a final step back, off the plank, and onto the deck of the ship with the others.
All without straying from her eyes.
Graves stood close to the other end, one hand raised.
The wind roared in the cavern, echoing off the tall, jagged stone and ripping through their hair and clothes.
She shivered as she watched him, the way his hair rustled, his deep blue eyes burning like freshly forged jewels.
The thread between them was a snaking curve of mistrust and secrets and obsession.
His hand did not waver as he murmured, his low rasp a whisper against the feathers on her back, "I have you. Don’t look away from me. "
Az pressed a hand to her shoulder, urging her. "Go."
So, she did.
One foot lifted, her wings tugging her back as she stepped onto the plank. The wood was rough under her bare feet, and her other foot stayed stretched behind her, scared to leave the ground. The water rushed below her, beckoning her to look.
She felt her demon at her back, a large hand on her hip as he nudged her to step fully on the plank.
Her head turned, neck stiff with fear, as she peered at him.
Vale was by his side, and as she found the King’s eyes, something in her chest tightened.
All it took was one short nod, and the tension in her body unraveled.
Vale reassured her, strengthening her—she hated the power he had over her, but loved it at the same time.
Her other foot lifted, and the plank creaked as she set her full weight atop it.
Her chin trembled, a prickling sensation moving into her back as the salve Tharen had rubbed into her skin wore off.
She felt the air as it threaded between the delicate feathers, where they poked out of her borrowed cloak.
"Don’t look down," Graves said lowly. Staring into his eyes, Luella took a step forward, feeling like she could topple off the plank and into the water.
"Don’t think about it." She tried not to, but every blink offered her visions of her body splattered on the rocks and cast into the sea.
"Come to me," he urged, and her hand rose, reaching for him.
His fingers brushed hers, hand shifting to wrap around her wrist, moving up to her forearm, as he took her fully and drew her off the plank onto the deck of the ship.
She melted into Graves, afraid to look behind her as the plank groaned ominously, footsteps thundering, and then Az appeared behind her.
"You’re okay, angel." The demon grabbed her free hand, fingers pushing between hers, the stretch bordering on uncomfortable. Ven mewled sweetly from her spot wrapped around his neck.
Vale was the last to cross. "Prepare to sail. Graves, get the tether and climb the masts. Az, the anchor. Tharen, you know what to do." The King was in control of them all, as if this was something they had practiced before—or maybe there was a time when they used to work this well together.
"Where do you need me?" Bastian asked him as the others went to prepare the ship.
Luella watched as the muscles in Az’s back strained and flexed as he hauled a large anchor over the side of the ship, dripping with water as he dropped it on the deck.
Graves deftly unraveled a tether she hadn’t noticed, which had kept the ship in place.
Then, through the darkness, he climbed up the masts, legs wrapped around the towering, wooden poles as his hands worked on tangles of ropes with expertise.
The white sails unfurled with a snap, sending a gust of air down on her.
"Take her below deck. I have a feeling this will be rough, as we sail away from Serpentis.
Keep her calm." Vale’s voice was clipped, but his eyes devoured her whole as Bastian placed a hand on her arm, leading her to a door set in the floor.
It opened, revealing a dark, thin set of stairs.
"Princess Luella," Vale called just as Bastian started to help her down, careful of her wings.
"Sleep. You’ll need it. The journey has just begun. "