Chapter 34 Something Stolen, Given #2
He stepped closer to her, taking the collar from her white-knuckled grip. She gasped when his grip on it forced her closer to him, her chest bumping his stomach. His scent enveloped her.
With deft fingers, he unhooked a small clasp at the back of the collar she had not seen, opening it as he fit it around her neck. His fingers brushed her pulse point, and it jumped under his touch. The collar was loose around her throat, and he swept her hair to the side as he clasped the back.
Bastian stepped away. "There. Beautiful."
She didn’t feel like it. She wriggled her bare toes. "I need slippers. No more heels." Or walking on tiptoe. Her feet ached from doing it so often. She wanted to try with normal shoes.
He made a contemplative sound. "I didn’t see any in the wardrobe. Perhaps shoes are not custom for the Fallen?" He stared out at the dimming light that filtered in through the curtains leading to the forest. "Take my hand."
She did, and he led her into the lounge room.
Luella disentangled her fingers from Bastian’s, immediately walking to Az, who still sat. She rounded the low lounge, standing before him.
A dark bruise was under his eye, blooming to his jaw.
A gasp fell from her lips, and in the same released breath, she fell to her knees before him, hands landing on his thighs, her wings fluttering behind her in indignation. Her back was to them all, and she knew they saw every quiver of her feathers. It felt strangely intimate.
"What happened?" she asked, reaching up to skim her fingertips over Az’s jaw.
The way she knelt before him, and the low set to the lounge, put them nearly at eye level. His amber eyes tracked her every breath, and the heat in them reminded her of how he had stared up at her from between her thighs.
Az took her hand and held it against his face. "Don’t kneel for me, angel."
"You didn’t answer me," she implored. "What happened. Who hurt you?"
His eyes darted to the side, and she followed the direction of his gaze—right to Graves, who stood like a silent sentinel near the arched doorway, staring out at the dark sea and cloud-covered sky.
"Graves," Luella whispered. And he turned to stare at her, face guarded. She hated what she saw in his eyes—self-loathing, a type she recognized. She turned away.
"I deserved it," said Az. "It was my price."
"For what?"
The silence lingered, and her mind worked to fill in the blanks. Oh. It was because of what they had done.
"I would pay it forever, Lu. Always." Az kissed her palm and took her hand, lowering it to his lap.
Footsteps sounded at her back, and she turned her head to stare up at Vale, who stood by her side. Her face was level with his thighs as he loomed over her.
"We should go." Vale held out a hand. "The celebration awaits, Princess Luella."
She inhaled sharply as she took Vale’s hand, allowing him to pull her up. Az stood, as well, warming her exposed back from his proximity.
Luella knew what Bastian had asked of her—trust—but she needed more assurance. "What about my wings?"
Vale played with the charms on her stolen bracelet; though, was it truly stolen if the one she had stolen it from never asked for it back? "It is taken care of, darling."
As if his word were enough.
"The boats are waiting," Graves cut in.
Vale laced his fingers with hers. His hand was so large, it hurt. "Let’s not keep them all."
They all walked to the largest stone arch, entirely open to the outside. The steps led straight down into the water; the two boats anchored there, awaiting them.
The King helped her carefully down the steps, and the bottom few were slippery from the tide, her bare feet damp from puddles left behind. The water lapped against her toes, and she swallowed thickly.
The sea was endless. Even dotted with faraway islands and the mountains that encircled the Isles, it didn’t fail to make her sick. How deep did it go? What was held inside? Salt tinged the air, and the memory made her next breath harder to take.
Calloused fingers skimmed over her exposed shoulder, and she turned to find Tharen close to her side. Had she been so consumed by her fears, she had missed him?
His white hair was still undone, falling freely around his shoulders, his pointed ears poking through. It was a strange sight, one Luella found she didn’t dislike.
Her own white hair hung loosely around her shoulders, the curls heavy spirals from the humidity.
Tharen reached for a near-perfect curl by her ear, tugging on it. The pull sent tingles up her scalp. "Next time you need to be fucked to sleep, let me know, little lamb."
Something inside her, wanton and wicked, grew very interested in his words. She tried to hide her reaction, but her wings… They fluttered behind her, betraying her.
Tharen smiled. And it was rare and genuine.
She lowered her voice, the lapping waves against the stone steps echoing her breath. "Is that an o-offer?"
"Only if you think it is." Tharen released the curl, leaving her alone to stew in his words as he settled into the boat.
As the boats docked at the large centerpiece island, lush with greenery, white stone arches, and swinging bridges, Luella could only stare.
Winged beings flew over the water. The sun had since set, leaving them all in a blanket of warm darkness, and her wings stood out like a beacon in the dim light.
Water sloshed against the stone steps—these were nothing like the ones on the other island. They were grander, larger. Everything on this island was magnified tenfold compared to the prior island.
More green, more polished stone. It was the largest island of the entire archipelago, with a bluff rising sharply from the water, while steps were carved into the side of the cliff, leading to the entrance.
Voices bounced off the water. Lights sparkled from within the palace.
Air whispered through Luella’s wings, and she wrapped her arms around her midsection.
Was it too late to take Az up on his offer to stay inside the other palace?
A hand on her back jolted her from her staring. "Luella," said Graves. She turned to stare at him, where he sat behind her, urging her to stand. The others had already left the boats.
Silently, she stood, shrugging off Graves’s hand when he held her elbow to help her onto the steps.
Vale held out a hand, and she took it. He pulled her from the boat, her bare feet sinking into the damp sand clumped near the edges of the steps.
His thumb brushed over her bracelet, and the light beyond the open archway leading into the palace flickered over his profile as he stared down at her, illuminating his golden hair.
He had changed and freshened up—they all had.
The shadow of hair along his jaw had been shaved, and his clothes were clean.
Simple, yet refined. As she grew familiar with the Fallen Isles, she realized this look was custom.
An easy, breezy beauty. Free and elegant.
"Ready, darling?" Vale murmured from her side. They all stood at the precipice of the entryway, not quite under the arch.
"Never," she responded lowly, dropping his hand as she stepped into the palace. "Let’s go."
The air held its breath as she entered, and her Vincire hurried to keep up, surrounding her as if they could protect her from the Fallen.
It was no use. Her wings were unable to be ignored.
Her bare feet slid over the floors, pleasantly warm from the sun that had just recently fallen.
Somehow, it was everything and nothing like she had come to expect from a royal revelry.
Bodies were entwined on the wide floor, laughter mingling in the air in time with the clink of glasses and quiet chatter.
There were even more open doorways here, wide arches that opened up directly outside, letting in the warm breeze of the night air.
Beyond, large tree trunks dotted the expanse, ripe with shifting shadows.
From the side they had just entered, the sea could be seen from the many entrances.
Curving ceilings crafted of stone. Vines curled from the forest, snaking up the walls.
But where the revelry at Serpentis had been teeming with sin, this was… not.
Younglings ran amok, their soft laughter making Luella’s chest alight with a bubbly happiness from the blatant display of youth.
Her eyes searched the dark corners, but she found no hands roaming or bodies tangled in passion.
It was filled with life.
In the midst of it all, Queen Samil.
The Queen’s throne was at the far wall, opposite the entrance in which they stood. Her deep blue eyes fell to them all, where they entered, and a gentle smile curved her lips upward.
Quiet befell the room.
Luella’s eyes darted around, watching as the Fallen stared and stared at them all. Her hands fisted in the skirts of her gown, breath hitching. Were the stories true? Would they hurt her?
She was too wound up to read the emotions flickering across the countless faces in the room.
The threads coiled tightly in her chest wavered with protection. Blindly, she reached for the hand nearest to her, desperate to be grounded and kept safe. When her fingers brushed a calloused palm and the thread inside her that felt like a snowstorm uncoiled, her lips parted in shock.
Tharen.
It was too late to pull her hand away; though, she waited for the Prima to shrug her off, or worse, laugh at her.
Imagine her surprise when his fingers pushed between hers, and he clasped their hands tightly together, refusing to let her go.
And perhaps a small part of her didn’t wish to let him go, especially as Tharen brushed against her with every step.
Vale was before her, but the King slowed, allowing Graves to lead them all. It was an act of deference, a testament of Graves’s… status here on the Isles. Another reminder of his lies.
It was so quiet that the water lapping against the rocks outside resonated. Wind swept through the open archways, bouncing off the curved stone ceilings, rustling the feathers in the room—hers included.
Queen Samil stood, and Graves stepped right before Luella, shielding her with his frame as his dark, feathered wings unfurled from where they’d been tucked closely to his back.
Her eyes grew wide at the sheer size and beauty of them.
Graves’s wings were so much larger than hers.
Where the tips of Luella’s stopped right behind her knees, the tips of Graves’s nearly dragged the floor with every step.
Luella peered around Graves, watching as the Queen left her throne and ventured into the crowd of winged revelers.
They were given a wide berth, and that circle of solitude befell the Queen as she glided closer. A low buzz of murmurs took hold of the Fallen. Queen Samil raised a hand, and it quieted instantly.
Finally, she stilled right before her son. Tharen’s hand tightened around Luella’s, and a warmth at her back made her glance behind her, to find Az looming like the fearsome protector he was.
Queen Samil touched a hand to Graves’s cheek, and through the open back of his shirt, Luella saw his muscles tense up.
"My son," the Queen said quietly, and if it were at all possible, the hush of the crowd turned even more silent.
Luella’s breath rattled in her ears.
Queen Samil dropped her hand. "You have all heard the rumors.
My son, Prince Sorren Graves Damaris. He has been lost to the Fallen Isles, but now has returned.
" Her voice rippled through the room. "My son has returned, but not alone.
He and his companions are to have safety here.
" She stepped to the side, putting her directly in Luella’s line of sight.
The Queen smiled down at Luella, her eyes flicking to her tucked wings. She held out a hand.
Dare Luella take it?
The implications were not lost on her. As soon as the Queen made known Luella’s title, everything would change.
Unwavering, the Queen’s hand remained outstretched—an offer.
Luella waited for Bastian to whisper an order in her mind, but it never came. This was a choice left for her to make. Something stolen, given.
Luella released Tharen’s hand, her palm tingling from his touch. Then, she placed her hand in the Queen of the Fallen Isle’s.
Queen Samil’s smile grew, and her fingers closed around Luella’s. The crowd watched, their eyes on Luella’s exposed wings and back.
"Princess Luella Eritrais of Solis," Queen Samil declared, "shall have solace here, with Prince Sorren’s companions."
Luella waited for the Queen to mention her wings or the nature of her status as half-angel, but it never came.
The Queen released her hand and stepped away from them all, her black wings rippling behind her as she spoke. "Celebrate my son’s return, but ask no questions, my Fallen. News of this will never travel beyond these Isles."