Chapter 35 Sugar Grapes
SUGAR GRAPES
THAREN
The sweet wine cooled Tharen’s tongue and chased away the godsdamned humidity, but he was missing the burn of hard liquor. Fuck this whole thing.
No—fuck. He couldn’t say that. They were here for a reason, but that reason lingered right at the tips of their fingers.
Keep Luella safe, find Emarelia, and get some godsdamned answers.
And maybe there could be time to find some good liquor somewhere in there.
They’d been running on pure instinct since the castle had crumbled from her storm, and only in that damned solitude had everything come crashing around them all.
He knew Vale had procedures in place. The castle was being rebuilt. But Tharen didn’t even know if they could ever return. Would they spend the rest of their lives running from the Tenebrae, trying to keep Luella at ease so she wouldn’t break?
Tharen’s hand flexed around the glass. He could still feel her fingers against his palm. He didn’t think she’d meant to grab his hand, but at the first touch, he knew he wasn’t going to let her go.
From his spot near one of the arches, half-turned to the dark sea, the Prima watched.
Queen Samil seemed almost too kind, but Graves and Vale assured them all she was no threat. Her kindness was true, if a little sickening. It reminded Tharen a bit of Luella, before they had gotten their hands on her and begun corrupting her.
He hid his grin behind another drink of the sweet wine. Like grapes doused in too much sugar. He grimaced.
Was everything here sweet and nice?
Well… Luella fit right in.
Tharen’s icy blue eyes found his little lamb as she stood, clinging close to Azgorath’s side. Bastian was near them, his red eyes scanning the room, as if searching for threats. But he was looking far more closely than anyone likely knew.
There’s one. Bastian’s voice came through their link. That one near the far wall. Do you see him?
Tharen followed Bastian’s line of sight, settling on a Fallen with slitted eyes and sour lips.
I see him, Vale said. Problem?
We’ll need to watch for him. His thoughts are angry. He is mad at the Queen for letting an angel enter the Isles, Bastian replied.
Tharen watched as Azgorath’s hand curled around Luella’s shoulder. The trio moved out of sight of the Fallen. Bastian directed her to perch on one of the small lounges, grabbed a glass of wine from a table, and pressed it into her hands. Azgorath stood at her back, staring daggers at the Fallen.
Loosen up, beast, Tharen drawled. At this rate, they’ll target you before her.
No one will be targeting anyone, Graves cut in.
At the sound of his echoed voice in the link, Tharen searched for him in the crowd of feathered beings.
He stood near a young Fallen female, her dark hair and deep blue eyes the exact shade of Graves’s.
So, that was one of his siblings. Graves continued, even as he spoke to his sister, the ease with which they were all able to communicate secretly, practiced through centuries.
My mother made a decree. If anyone values their life here, they will not go against her.
She did, Vale stated, but we still must be careful.
The King stood near a far wall, the wind rippling through his hair.
Was it a trick of the dim light, or was smoke curling from his nostrils?
We have sanctuary here, but the Fallen are loyal to the Queen, above all.
Even over Graves. If we must, we will have to leave.
I won’t bring any more violence or unrest here, Graves agreed. My family has suffered enough.
Tharen knew little of why Graves had left the Isles and refused to return; he’d killed his father, but it hadn’t been his father—not truly. Tharen struggled to make sense of it. Tharen’s own parents hadn’t deserved the title. As far as the Prima was concerned, he had no family.
But…
His palm tingled.
Watching the others, Azgorath’s fingers sifting through the ends of Luella’s hair where it was draped over the back of the lounge; Bastian sorting through a plate of bread and cheese, picking out the meat for Luella; Vale standing watch over the crowd with draconic eyes and barely controlled temper as he worked to fight off his dragon; and Graves, who’d shoved down his own wants for them all, offering no protest as they sailed back to the very place he’d fled.
Still no sign of Emarelia.
Tharen tempered a sigh as he sat down on the lounge by Luella.
She jolted and stared up at him, her blue eyes wide.
He smiled wickedly at her, an arm thrown over the back of the seat, fingers grazing her bare shoulder.
He had to admit—the gown was gorgeous on her.
It revealed the entire expanse of her back, and he watched every twitch of her wings, wondering if they’d jump under his touch, too.
"T-Tharen," Luella stammered.
He tsked. "Still can’t say my name without tripping over it, lamb? Really—we must work on that."
She blushed, lifting her glass to her mouth to take a delicate sip.
On her other side, Bastian drank his own glass. Tharen knew it wasn’t enough for the vampire, but at least he’d been well-fed in their solitude.
All this lost time, yet nothing to fucking show for it.
Emarelia’s not here. Tharen scowled.
Patience. Vale’s voice filled his mind.
Tharen wanted to fucking hit the dragon for it—patience, his ass, when his beast must’ve been riding him hard about stealing their Vincire from them, whisking her away to gods knew where.
The mage plucked the glass from Luella’s hands.
She spluttered as droplets fell from her lips.
She had nearly been ready to take another sip.
He placed his lips on the same spot she had just touched, staring down at her as his tongue traced over the lip of the glass. Don’t lecture me on patience, Vale.
"Behave," Bastian crooned, the lilting warning speaking of more than just stealing Luella’s drink. "Here, pet." Bastian pressed his glass into her hands.
"No blood, right?" she asked, voice small.
Bastian’s lips twitched. "No blood." He lowered his voice, but Tharen still heard. "An angel in their midst is one thing, a vampire? Quite another."
Tharen watched the line of Luella’s throat as she tipped her head back and drank, feeling his cock stir in interest. He pushed that impulse down. She didn’t need him to fucking mess with her anymore. He’d had her once.
The celebration continued, and it was obvious the Fallen watched them all closely. Graves, in awe at his return. And the rest? Suspicion. In some cases, outright hostility.
That was what Bastian was for, however. Every time the vampire picked up on dangerous, violent thoughts, he alerted them all to it.
They were racking up quite the ledger of supposed enemies.
Fucking good.
Tharen was itching for a fight—he’d been cooped up too long at sea, then their week of solitude.
After some time, when the sweet wine worked to dull the ever-present rage he felt, Graves appeared; though, not alone.
The Fallen Prince was tailed by the little Fallen Princess that Tharen had seen him talking to.
She was delicate and small, and her dark wings were only slightly larger than Luella’s.
Her eyes matched Graves’s, but the kindness in them was disconcerting, as opposed to whatever the fuck sort of guarded stoicism usually shadowed Graves’s features.
The Princess held a babe, perched on her hip. A wingless female youngling with the same dark hair and large green eyes. Her tiny fists curled in the ends of the Fallen Princess’s hair, and she bounced the youngling on her hip.
"Introduce me, Sorren," said the Fallen Princess. "I’ve never met the rest of your friends before. And an angel, no less." The youngling cooed in agreement.
Luella’s eyes tracked the Princess with wariness, but Tharen felt the slight interest as she peered at the babe.
"This is Prima Tharen Wystaro. Bastian Thorne, the King’s Advisor. Azgorath Da’amith." Graves’s eyes flicked to Luella, then away. "And Princess Luella Eritrais of Solis." Graves settled a hand on the Fallen’s shoulder. "This is my sister, Princess Sorill Damaris."
Princess Sorill dipped her chin. "I’m afraid I cannot curtsy with Jili here." She smoothed the babe’s short dark hair. "It is a pleasure to meet you all. Princess Luella, has Sorren been treating you well?"
Luella glanced at Tharen, as if seeking permission to speak.
Bastian, Tharen prodded in their link.
He watched as the fear in Luella’s eyes seeped away, as Bastian told her in her mind that the Princess was no threat.
It was a careful balance they all kept. What to say; what not to say.
The Queen didn’t know the whole reason why they were here—the Damaris siblings knew even less, so Tharen had been told.
They all knew just enough to have their confidence and sanctuary.
They knew Luella was important, and she was the true Princess of Luna. They knew the Fates were involved. Nothing else.
"He has been treating me well," Luella hedged. "Forgive me, I’m used to c-calling him Graves. Sorren sounds strange to my ears."
Tharen didn’t miss the flex in Graves’s fingers as she said his true name.
Princess Sorill rounded the lounge area and sat across from them, perching the youngling, Jili, on her lap.
She patted the empty spot next to her. "Sit with me, Princess? I’d love to get to know the reason for Sor—Graves’s leaving.
" Princess Sorill glanced to her brother with a sweet smile as she said his middle name.
"Go, Lu," Azgorath said, still standing at Luella’s back, hands on her shoulders, playing with her hair.
She glanced at Tharen; he kept his face impassive. Then, to Bastian on her other side, who inclined his head and said, "Go play, pet."
Luella moved to sit beside Princess Sorill, hands clenched in her gown, wings drooping over her shoulders like wilted flower petals.
Princess Sorill attempted to make conversation with Luella, who gave quiet, one-word answers, as if unused to anyone showing any interest in her at all.
What finally made her break was when the babe on Princess Sorill’s lap reached for Luella, tiny fingers waving in the air as she teetered on the Fallen Princess’s lap, trying to grab Luella’s wings.
Luella covered her mouth, laughing quietly. The sound drew their rapt focus, where the four of them watched the two Princesses.
Vale still watched from the archway. Tharen met his eyes from a distance and thought, Okay?
Instead of replying, the King shoved away from his spot and disappeared into the crowd.
He didn’t reappear again until he stood right before them, green eyes no longer slitted as he said, "All is well.
I needed a moment." His words drifted off as he looked to Luella, who had scooted closer to the Princess and Jili, letting the babe brush chubby fingers over the tips of her white feathers.
All the composure the King seemed to have found standing near the opened doorway left him in an instant as smoke huffed in the air on a harsh exhale. "That is…"
Tharen didn’t even try to hide his smirk.
He knew the bastard would be riled by the sight of Luella with a babe.
Even Tharen felt strange at the sight. He hadn’t realized Luella could be so gentle in that way; her laughter rang like little bells as she played with Jili, who kept running her fingers over Luella’s wings.
After a while—the five of them were silent as they watched the two Princesses talk lowly, Luella telling Princess Sorill to disregard her title, and the other Princess doing the same—their strange haze of peace was disrupted by the arrival of the last two Damaris siblings. Twins.
Sora and Soro—if Tharen remembered correctly. He’d never met them, but the resemblance was undeniable.
Sora, with a swelling belly, walked right up to her sister. "Why would you bring my daughter into the presence of these interlopers?"
Sorill’s hands tightened around Jili. "They aren’t interlopers. These are our brother’s friends."
"Sorren left, Sorill. He forgot about us. These are no friends of ours," Soro spat. The winged male wasn’t quite as tall as Graves, but the anger in his eyes spoke much about his feelings on their arrival.
Will they be a problem? Vale spoke in their minds.
Graves answered. Soro and Sora are angry at me, but they would never intentionally hurt me. Or anyone.
Sorill carefully bundled the babe up and lifted her to her mother, who clutched Jili to her chest like she was in danger of being snatched away.
Tharen resisted the urge to snort.
Princess Sora perched Jili on her hip, the babe’s arms curling over the Princess’s rounded belly.
Luella’s hands folded in her lap, looking so small. "I’m sorry," she whispered.
"What?" Sora snapped.
"I am sorry for being the cause of strife here. It was not my intention—" Luella started.
Soro cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand. "Enough. Your apologies mean nothing, angel," he spat.
Azgorath grumbled.
"Our brother left us for the promise of you. I see nothing worthy of taking him away from us." Sora crinkled her nose at Luella, turned on her heel, and left, Jili’s cheek on her mother’s shoulder as she stared at them, her wide green eyes filled with innocence.
Soro stayed. "Sorill, come. You don’t need to be around them. Sorren made his choice, make a better one."
Sorill placed a hand on Luella’s shoulder. "I am staying, brother."
Soro made to speak again, but Graves stopped him with a hand on his shoulder as he said, "Leave, Soro. I don’t mind threats toward myself, but never to her.
" Graves stared at Luella, and as Soro followed his gaze, Tharen wanted to skewer a dagger through his eyes for daring to stare at his Vincire with such loathing.
Soro threw one last look toward his sister, then left.
"Ignore them, sweetheart," Graves said to Luella.
Sorill’s eyes sparked with interest at the endearment. "He’s right, you know. Ignore them. I love my siblings, but love and like are different. After what happened, the entirety of the Isles views visitors with wary intent."
Luella nodded, eyes unfocused, and before Tharen could blink, she stood.
"I need to be alone," Luella announced. She stilled before she left, staring down at Sorill. "Thank you for being kind. I would love to sit with you again."
Sorill smiled up at Luella. "I’d love that, as well. I’ll come see you." But before she could finish speaking, Luella hurried away.
Tharen shot up to follow after her, but Vale called, "No, Tharen. She doesn’t need you to go after her."
The words hurt, but maybe they were true. She stuttered in his presence, could barely look him in the eye—why did Tharen think he could offer comfort to her?
"I’ll go," said Graves. "I will not let her see me."