Chapter 53 Conquered Princess
CONQUERED PRINCESS
LUELLA
Luella’s legs trembled like a fawn’s.
She still felt Bastian’s mouth between her thighs. As they’d entered the Queen’s palace only a couple of moments ago, she had walked carefully, feeling turned inside out from what he’d done to her.
She had been so consumed by the heights of pleasure she’d been brought to that she hadn’t even realized he had been left unsatisfied until her gown was already on and his hands had smoothed the stray frizz from her hair.
He’d wiped the pad of his thumb beneath her lip, fixing a smudge of rouge, and she had only been able to whisper, What about you?
To which he had merely smiled roguishly and replied, It is not a contract, pet.
I could live off the taste of you for eternity.
You could be my only meal, and I would be satisfied.
If you want to pay me back, I will come to your room tonight after the ball.
Your innocence still clings to you; there is much you don’t know.
He had kissed her then. Would you like to remedy that?
Luella had barely been able to give her acquiescence before the curtains had been jerked open and Tharen had stormed in. The Prima’s nostrils had flared as he’d taken in Luella and Bastian, too close to be doing anything licit.
They all knew.
It would take time for her to keep rationalizing that anytime she was… intimate with someone… they all would know.
Each step to the lounges scattered at the edges of the room made her core tremble. Low tables and lower cushions lined the space.
When they sat, Graves broke away momentarily to speak with Queen Samil, who lounged on her throne, Sora seated on a much smaller one at her side, Jili perched on her lap.
Luella’s wings tugged her back as she settled with a soft rustle on the low cushions. The fabric of her blended blue gown fanned around her.
On the low stone-crafted table before her, there were many gilded platters with grapes, wine, and whole fish, their eyeballs unseeing—she grimaced and looked away.
Az didn’t seem to hold the same reservations as she did, for the demon lifted an entire fish and peeled the charred scales from the side as he took a bite.
Her gaze wandered to the Fallen beyond their little circle, dancing in the center of the room, chatting in the corners. The open arches let in a cool night breeze, cascading over her skin. She pressed her legs together.
When your wings shiver from the air, does it remind you of my breath between your thighs?
Bastian’s words in her mind made her gasp. Luella coughed quickly to cover the surprised sound. She caught his eye and blushed, looking away.
Only to find Tharen staring at her hungrily. She tore her stare away from him, eyes drifting across the room to find an escape—and when they paused at a corner table, she saw Vale.
He wore hunger on his face, too; he was where her attention stayed.
She hadn’t realized the King had stepped away from them.
He kept his distance from her like flower petals receded in the winter. As if she were a bloom and he were the bitter chill, scared to fall on her. But in the heat of the Fallen Isles, it felt all wrong.
She was wuthering, he was burning, and together they were a cataclysm waiting to happen.
Beyond the arches, the treetops swayed angrily in the wind.
She was mad with him—he said he would make her his Queen, then he drew away from her.
Vale couldn’t have it all. He couldn’t have her, and this false sense of safety he believed to be found when a yawning distance stretched between them.
If he asked her to marry him in truth, she wouldn’t agree. Nothing could make her.
Except…
She skimmed her hand over the Binding mark on her chest, revealed by the low cut of her gown. She felt nothing under her fingers, but she knew the mark was there. Sometimes, she forgot about it; how foolish of her. Vale hadn’t used it against her since she had asked him to—begged him to.
Would he again? If she didn’t agree to marry him?
Would he bend her will to his?
Luella sighed, hand falling to her lap. She felt stifled, like the walls were closing in.
This place, once beautiful to her, had a trapping sort of magnificence now.
An allure that drew her in, but now she’d found herself caged and unable to flee.
Even if she wanted to, she wondered if she would now.
Or had she let herself fall into complacency here, too comfortable to move?
"You look like you need to be distracted. Dance with me." The words were said from right before her.
She looked up and found they were all watching her closely.
Graves stood before her, his dark wings stretched out and proud, nearly blocking the sight of Vale beyond.
Her lips parted. "I don’t—I’m not wearing shoes." The excuse rolled off her tongue.
Graves’s eyes fell to her feet, tucked underneath her. Her bare toes poked from beneath the hem of her gown.
Across from her, Tharen’s icy eyes fell to them, too.
She draped her skirts over her feet.
Graves made an odd humming sound. "Stay here."
He turned to leave quickly, and she lost sight of him as he ventured deeper into the throng of Fallen.
While he was gone, Luella’s eyes drifted to Sora, who cooed over Jili in her lap, one hand pressed over her swelling stomach. Sorill was nearby, speaking with Soro.
An uncomfortable emotion twinged in Luella’s gut at the sight of such happiness.
A family.
Something she’d been robbed of.
Maybe she could find a new family.
Graves returned after some time, and she found she hadn’t moved in his absence.
He held out a gloveless hand—she wondered what made him choose to wear them some days and others not. She took his hand with a sigh.
Did she even have a choice?
You always have a choice, but if you don’t choose us, then you may find your choices stolen, Bastian whispered into her mind.
As Luella walked by Bastian, he peered up at her from under his lashes. The way his red eyes sparked with want reminded her of how he’d appeared as he looked up at her from between her thighs, grinning.
Graves stopped right in the middle of the room. The other Fallen laughed kindly with each other, some looking their way with curiosity. And others—
The thirst in her throat, the dryness of her tongue, the hunger, the wind, the fathomless sea—
Her feet stalled, wings shuddering.
Some Fallen looked at her with discontent. She was an interloper here. Her wings made it clear that she did not belong.
The Queen’s decree offered no peace to Luella. If these Fallen wanted to hurt her, they could—they would.
A warm finger notched beneath her chin, lifting her face.
"You think so loudly. I don’t have Bastian’s magic, but even I know where your thoughts go," Graves rasped. With the hair along his jaw and scar on the side of his face, he appeared nothing like a prince. His other hand was held behind his back.
"I told you I cannot dance." Luella could. She loved to dance barefoot—but she didn’t want to have all these eyes on her.
Her excuse was a paltry attempt at brushing off his request. Graves saw right through it.
Graves revealed the hand tucked behind his back, revealing a pair of soft slippers with tiny gems adorning the tips. They were a tan shade, like sand, with blue jewels like water.
"Where did you get them?" she asked softly, eyes lifting from the slippers to meet his gaze.
Something unreadable passed over his face, gone before she could truly investigate it. His jaw ticked, eyes dropping to her toes, peeking from beneath her flowing skirts. "They were my mother’s."
"Your mother’s? I-I cannot take them—" Luella pressed her small hands against Graves’s, which held the slippers.
"You will," Graves said. "I want you to—have them." The words were said low and with effort, as if vulnerability caused him a great deal of pain.
Luella’s eyes darted to the throne, where Queen Samil watched their exchange with a delicate hand pressed over her mouth and sparkling eyes. Sora watched, as well, though her expression was filled with overt displeasure.
As her attention fell back to the Fallen Prince before her, she nearly jumped back as Graves took to his knee. Right there, in the throne room—with everyone watching.
The chatter and pleasant laughter tapered off.
"Graves," Luella whispered harshly. Her body froze.
His head bowed before her, the longer strands of his dark hair at the top falling over his forehead, hiding his eyes from her. His lips curved with a faint smile; she nearly missed it.
His bare hands skimmed over her ankle, shifting up the hem of her gown to reveal her bare feet. Her wings trembled uncontrollably from his touch.
As he gently—so, so gently—took her right foot and lifted it, a slipper in his hand, she realized his intentions.
She was too frightened and embarrassed to look at the Fallen in the room, so she stared at the top of his head, the curve of his shoulders, and the outline of his wings. "They’re all watching."
Graves slid her right foot into the slipper, placing it back down on the floor before lifting her left. "Let them," he replied. His breath tickled her ankle and calf.
Sea-scented air swept through the throne room.
"But you’re the Prince," she stressed. "You cannot kneel before me."
If the Fallen hated her before, they would detest her now.
"Watch me." Graves glanced up at her as he fit the slipper on her foot, thumb brushing her ankle.
He rose, hands drifting over her thighs and hips, until they settled on her waist. He tugged her sharply into his front.
"If they know my loyalty is not to the crown of the Fallen, I don’t fucking care. "
Luella gasped. His words had been so low she’d struggled to hear. But the fae had weaker senses than most.
"Who is it to, then?"
She already knew.
"You don’t need to ask me that," he said.
He took her hand, the other holding her waist, then they danced.
Her feet obeyed before her body could catch up—still reeling after what he’d just done, the statement he’d just made in front of everyone.
It was only halfway through their dance that she could formulate words.
By that time, the Fallen had resumed their talks and dancing, but the air held a stilted, charged note now.
Her magic sang a glorious song in her breast at the claim he’d laid upon her. She hated it. She felt it well within her, pressing against her flesh as if to seek out the spots where he touched her.
"Do you know what you’re doing?" Luella asked him.
He stared into her eyes. "For the first godsdamned time—yes."
After their dance, he deposited her on the lounge. Her mind was spinning. Her shoulder bumped Az’s, and she was broken from her stupor.
The demon’s amber eyes were hot as he took her in. "Was that okay with you, angel?"
"I—" Luella shook her head. "I don’t know."
She lifted her chin. Vale sat on the lounge across from her, the physical embodiment of embers and ash. She swallowed and looked away.
The Prince of the Fallen Isles had just publicly knelt before her and forsaken his crown in her name.
The King of Serpentis had publicly humiliated her and named her as his war prize.
The dichotomy was not lost on her.
What was she doing?
She reached for Az’s hand; his skin was warm. "Come with me? I need to be alone, I think."
Az stood without a word, helping her up. The slippers softened her footfalls. They fit nearly perfectly.
"Alone, but you ask me to come?" Az mumbled, hand squeezing hers.
"Alone with you is better than alone with just me," she sighed, knowing if she’d tried to leave wholly alone, they would’ve stopped her.
Still, it seemed just one bodyguard wasn’t enough.
Tharen stood quickly, a glass of dark amber liquor in his hand. "Well then, don’t let me stop you, lamb. Go."
She opened her mouth to say… something, but promptly closed it when amusement flashed over his face. She was nothing but a toy to him. She didn’t care what Emarelia had told her.
Her body may feel safe with the Prima, but neither her mind nor heart ever would.
Tharen stayed a large, imposing shadow at her and Az’s back as they walked to one of the arches.
She stopped right outside, slippers scuffing over the stone.
The breeze teased her hair around her cheeks.
The clouds were so thick overhead, the moon was hidden.
They seemed to grow darker in the distance, or perhaps that was the thick shadows seeping through the rocks and trees beyond, tricking her.
She shivered.
Az’s thumb swept over the back of her hand. Tharen moved to stand at her other side, arms crossed and jaw ticking with impatience, as if he found her need for fresh air to be doltish.
Suddenly, she felt uneasy. A sick roiling in her gut, like the sky would fall on top of her. It became hard to breathe. What was happening to her?
The trees and rocky cliff that fell into the sea seemed to yawn before her.
The joyously bright candlelight from the palace at her back made her shadow flicker on the stone before her. She watched her silhouette, blinking hard when she saw tendrils of darkness undulate around it.
Her heart beat in her chest—a calamitous drum knocking against her breast.
"I feel weird," Luella uttered. "I think we should—"
The candles went out. Darkness enveloped the halls at her back. A cold, terrifying phantom touch grazed down her spine. Something brushed against her ear. She flinched.
Words were whispered right into her, as if said just for her.
"Hello, conquered Princess."