Chapter 54 A Vow Made #2
The mass of shadows was like a frozen lake against her slippered feet. Teasing her. She struggled on the ground, trying to rip her feet away and up—anything not to touch the shadowed mass.
Fire cut through the darkness.
"Move!" Tharen roared so loud that Luella jolted. She heard it in her ears and in her mind. It bounced around in her head, hitting the inside of her skull with savage intensity.
Tharen raised his fire-tipped hands.
Luella made herself as small as she could, tucking her face against the rocks.
Roaring and crackling, a heat scorched over her wings, a hair’s breadth from touching her.
All at once, the shadows backed away. Their icy cold left her from the heat of Tharen’s fire.
No longer held captive by the shadows, Luella dropped. The strain on her arms was indescribable as Tharen and Graves hoisted her up. The stone dug into her stomach, ripping her gown. Her wings fluttered, trying to help them.
She gasped in relief as she was pulled over the edge and fell into their arms.
Az took her, then, and held her. She cried into his chest.
"Luella, angel," Az gasped. "You’re not hurt?" He rocked her softly. She trembled—couldn’t stop.
She thought she shook her head.
She was hurting everywhere. They didn’t have time to care for her hurts.
A shattering roar echoed in tune with a reverberating clap—dragon wings.
An onyx dragon spewed fire from its mouth overhead. Through the smoke and ash left in its wake, green slitted eyes peered down upon her, where she sat bundled and shaking in Az’s arms on the edge of the cliff. The dragon roared a call of violence.
One word pierced through her mind:
Mine.
Just this once, Luella welcomed the dragon’s obsession. He would keep her safe.
She stared up at the dragon flying overhead and thought back, Keep them all safe. She hoped he heard.
Fire still burned hotly in Tharen’s palms. The glow cast shadows on his severe features as he spoke. "Graves, get her out of here—now."
Az kissed her brow. "Go with him, angel." His tone turned hard. "He’ll take you somewhere safe."
She wanted to stay, but knew truly there was nothing she could do here. She was a weakness to them all.
Az helped her to stand, and she took Graves’s hand. His dark wings snapped out. Her own shivered in answer, a burning sensation radiating from the underside, where the fire had nearly touched.
His arms wrapped around her, and before she could speak, he shot upward.
She gasped and held him tightly. He kept her bundled close to his chest, as if afraid to let one breath of space come between them. He flew so swiftly through the smoke-filled skies that she grew dizzy. She had no idea he could fly so fast.
Graves cut around the palace, and as the burning fires and sounds of pain receded, she realized where he was taking her. The sound of the ocean grew louder. Waves lapped against the jagged, towering stone.
Each beat of his wings echoed around them.
He didn’t stop until they arrived at the hidden waterfall.
Graves let her go, and she stumbled as her feet touched the smooth stone.
"Graves," Luella sobbed, undone. "What do we do? I cannot—"
He hushed her, stepping in front of her and taking her face between his hands. He held her fiercely. The moon drifted through the thick rain-filled clouds overhead, only sparingly. White moonlight fell over the stone and illuminated his face. There was blood splattered on his cheeks.
"Stay here," he ordered, words rasping over her raw skin.
"Wait?" she implored. "You’re leaving me h-here? What about—the Tenebrae—he’s here for me." Her words were gasping and out of order. "Conquered Princess," she wheezed raggedly. "He’s here. I heard him. Please—"
Graves’s thumbs soothed over her cheeks.
His touch was so light, as if afraid to graze the burning, angry scrapes on her skin.
He hushed her once more. "We’re out of options, sweetheart.
" He searched her eyes. She tried to memorize the deep blue shade.
One of his hands released her, and something pressed into her palm. Her fingers curled around it, unbidden.
Luella looked down to find a dagger in her hand—one of his.
"You do whatever you have to do. Promise me," Graves begged. "Promise me."
The hilt of the dagger was warm in her hands. A tiny droplet of blood fell from the side of the blade.
"I-I promise," she managed to say.
Everything was happening too fast. She couldn’t keep up.
He nodded as if her paltry words were enough. They would have to be. They had no time for anything else.
He crushed her to him. She whimpered as his palms dragged over her bruised body. She was glad for the pain. An embrace like this should never feel good. It should hurt. It should burn. Because he had imprinted himself upon her.
His stubble scratched her brow as he kissed her temple.
Graves pulled away, releasing a pained sound as his hands left her.
Like leaving her was the last thing he ever wished to do.
He studied her intently, rage sparking inside the thread that connected them as he took in her scraped and bruised skin.
Even swallowing hurt—she felt the memory of the shadow’s touch on her neck. She was sure she was already bruising.
Even from a distance, she felt the others, but slightly less animated compared to the feel of Graves before her. She hadn’t realized until this moment, but distance dampened their bond. It made sense, considering prolonged distance from them caused her to feel sick. The realization was short-lived.
"Don’t die," Luella begged him. She reached for him, hands hovering between them. "I—please," she settled on, "don’t die. Don’t get hurt."
He stood there, wings proudly unfurled. In this moment, she felt nothing short of beaten and broken. She wanted to curl up into him and let his fierceness take away her pain.
"I won’t," Graves swore.
Those two words lingered as he took to the skies.
She watched him fly away until she could no longer see him. Her hand ached from the force with which she gripped the dagger.
Luella looked down at it. Blood dripped slowly from the tip. Alone, her breath was too loud, heart too chaotic.
"They’ll be okay. They’ll be okay. He’s coming back for me," Luella whispered—again and again.
The stone was cold at her back, chilling her wings. The warmth of the Fallen Isles was gone; the cold had seeped into her bones, slow and merciless.
The trickle of the waterfall fell before her. She huddled behind it in a shallow dip of stone, using it for cover. Her knees were pulled to her chest, knuckles white as she gripped the hilt of the dagger. She held it out, pointed toward the dark. The sharp blade trembled in her hands.
"He said he wouldn’t die. They won’t d-die." She gave a low, quiet sob. Pressed her hand over her mouth to stifle it.
The darkness on the other side of the waterfall was so pressing she felt like she’d been thrust into that nightmarish dream—where the water had pooled at her ankles and darkness had wrapped around her on all sides. She kept expecting that awful, ear-shattering sound to return—but it never came.
The only sound she heard was her ragged breath.
She pressed her free hand over her chest to soothe herself. She felt their emotions, muted from a distance and faint. But there.
Rage and violence. A mass of agony and vengeance in the gaping pit of her soul.
She clung to their ferocity because if she didn’t, she would break.