Chapter 39
DEEP UNDERWATER
GRAVES
Graves couldn’t sleep, for his dreams had been haunting him, and he refused to face his past. It fucking wrapped around him, choking him.
The yarn ball was soft in his hands, and he threw it upward, watching as the untethered ends fluttered out before he caught it in his palm. Again, he threw it upward, catching it each time. The steady thump was grounding, and the feel was even more so. It smelled like salt and fresh air and home.
Graves gritted his jaw, and when the ball fell back into his hand, he wrapped his fingers around it, squeezed, then threw it onto the bed beside him—done with games, done with distraction.
He scrubbed a hand over his face harshly; black dots speckled his vision from the rubbing.
Shapes took form in the dots. Blood, screams. The shocked, shadowed eyes of his father as he drove the—
A swift knock on the door saved his spiraling.
"Sorren! Sorren? Are you in there? Please."
Graves sat up, staring at the fluttering, half-closed curtains that led outside. A shadow shifted on the stone outlook—Sora.
He stood and walked to the curtains. "Sora, what is it?" Fear gripped him as he opened them, revealing his young, pregnant sister, a hand pressed against her swelling belly, as she stood on the stone outlook. Her eyes were wide, shoulders tense.
Graves forgot all about their ill words and how angry she was with him. He gripped her shoulders, looking her over. "Sora, are you hurt? What’s wrong?"
Sora trembled. "Can I come in? Please?" She kept casting looks behind her.
Graves ushered her in with a hand on her shoulder, and he stared into the darkness outside. It was quiet. Almost too quiet.
She turned to close the curtains, shutting out the sight of the swaying bridges and crashing waves beyond. Her movements were jerky, and she curled her shoulders inward protectively, as if to keep the babe in her belly as safe as she could.
As Sora turned to meet Graves’s eyes, he felt a lance of fear within him. It was muted, as if from a distance. The fear turned to pain, and it made his knees weak. He braced a hand on the wall to keep himself steady. His wings snapped out behind him, as if sensing a great threat.
As quickly as they came, the feelings abated—leaving him fucking confused and on edge.
"Sora, what is it?" Graves rasped. "Is it Sorill? Are Soro and Mother okay?" Oh gods. It was his fault if they weren’t. It was his fault. He never should have come back and—
"Sorren… It’s the angel—your angel." Sora’s words came as if Graves were deep underwater. "She was taken."