Chapter 40
ASHES
VALE
Burn them all to the ground.
They’ve taken our mate from us.
They deserve to die. Turn them all into ashes.
Mine, mine. Ours. Taken. Take her back…
Find. Her.
Vale huffed smoke into the room. He was undone. He was breaking. Shattering. His bones groaned with a shift, but he held it back. Just barely.
Someone took Luella from them all.
And they would pay with their lives.
With more than their lives.
Pain.
They would pay with pain. He would love to make them pay.
And it was too much.
Vale’s fist pressed against his mouth to stifle his ever-present hissing that threatened to betray just how on edge he was at the moment.
His thoughts blurred. A constant stream of violence and possession, and the single-minded focus of—
Finding. Her.
"No," Queen Samil said. "I forbid it. You will not shift here, Vale."
From where the Queen of the Fallen Isles stood in the night-drenched lounge room of Graves’s home, she clasped her hands before her, her black wings fluttering, and her eyes somber. "I am sorry." She shook her head. "I cannot allow it."
Vale blew out a ring of smoke, fire curling in his gut. "How can you expect me to stand idly by while she is out there? Hurting?" And he knew she was. They’d all felt it—that brief shock of pain and terror.
Azgorath prowled the length of the room, hands in fists by his sides, and expression twisted with murder.
Graves stood by his sister, who worried her hands in the fabric of her gown. Soro and Sorill were here as well, standing by. Soro appeared unfazed, but Sorill’s stress was evident. If not for Sora being the one to bring this to their attention, Vale might’ve thought the twins were to blame.
Sora had come to speak with her brother, or so she’d said.
She had paced outside, unable to take the first step and enter, for fear of facing her brother.
She had heard noises in the forest and had flown overhead to investigate.
There, she had revealed she saw their angel—or so she referred to Luella as—being hunted by two Fallen.
Sora said she had not gotten a good look at their faces. Only knew they were both males.
They would burn.
Burn them all.
His dragon roared inside him, cracking against his ribcage and filling the very marrow of his bones. Keeping the beast tethered hurt, but he tightened the leash. He could not lose control. Too much was at stake.
"I trusted you, King Vale. I trusted my son.
" The Queen’s eyes cut to Graves, whose black wings were fluttering as if involuntarily behind him, poised to flee and search for their Vincire.
"I offered you all sanctuary here. Now it is your time to trust us.
" At her side, she inclined her head to her Fallen guard, the one named Opulus stepped forward, the end of his spear notched against the ground.
"How can I trust you when it’s your people who took her?" Vale hissed.
Opulus’s hands tightened on the spear, and Vale’s hackles raised, the others doing the same, visibly puffing out their chests and stepping forward with menace. But not Graves, he was taut as a bowstring, feet pointed toward the door, ready to go.
The Queen held Opulus back with a firm, but poised, hand. "Because we will hand them over to you, once they are found."
His dragon’s talons clicked across the bars of Vale’s ribcage. Glee filled him. Good. Kill.
"I will stay my dragon," Vale gritted through smoky lips, and his beast roared in anger, in anguish.
The King met Graves’s eyes. Not a word fell from his lips. His Knight read his intentions, wings snapping out, and without a backward glance, Graves flew away.
His exit sent air gusting through the room.
Tharen cracked his knuckles. "I work better on the ground anyway. I have two dead males to hunt."
Azgorath lowered his head, horns pointed out. "As do I."
Bastian and Vale shared a look. Will you be able to control your dragon?
I will try, Vale said simply.
The Queen sent Opulus out with more Fallen guards to search the grounds and skies, while Bastian and Vale kept close to the palace, in the unlikely chance that Luella would be returned. The demon and Prima hunted the males who’d dared to take what belonged to the five of them.
And Graves, the King’s Knight, did what he was best known for. Working silently and effectively. In the shadows, in the skies, and without ceasing until his task was complete.