Chapter 64
CHAOS INCARNATE (COLLARED)
LUELLA
She was given something that made her heart race.
After Caliban left, Luella had been laid back down on the stone table. She lay there, staring unseeingly at the marbled ceiling.
She tried to remind herself that this wasn’t real. It was the only way she could keep herself from falling into the abyss. Because if it was real…
She should have died.
Colors swirled above her. A haze of soft smoke from mixed tinctures and low voices. The two females—the healers—they were scared of Caliban. Her sluggish mind tried to understand. Were they not Umbra, then?
Luella had seen their pointed ears. She knew they were both fae.
If they were not Umbra, then perhaps that was a good thing.
Could they be on her side? What if she could speak to them?
But that would mean she would have to string together a coherent sentence, and right now, she could do nothing of the sort.
One of the healers swam into focus above her. She spoke lowly. "Lift your head." Her hand slid beneath Luella’s skull, lifting it. She tried to force her neck to hold her head up, but could only manage to move slightly on her own. "Drink. This will help rouse you from your current state."
Luella wanted to ask what it was. She tried to pinch her lips together, but the healer fit the lip of the vial against her mouth, forcing her mouth to open.
The glass pressed into her teeth. The healer tipped it back, and Luella was forced to swallow, lest she choke.
It had a faint taste, more salty than anything.
But it swept through her body like a storm. She felt it as it was poured down her throat, then entered her stomach, from there going out to her limbs and wrapping around her heart tightly. Squeezing.
She gasped as her heart kicked up into a furious beat. She began to sweat, overheated.
The healer pulled her hand away as Luella rose upright, her good hand clutching feebly against the sheet. She tried to claw at her chest as if to rip her heart out. It was beating too fast. Surely this was the beginning of her death. No one could survive feeling like this—
She was gasping, scratching at her chest, and leaving raised welts.
The healer grabbed Luella’s hand and forced it away. "No, no. Do not do that. Just breathe. It will even out. Take a deep breath."
Luella tried to mimic the healer’s breathing patterns, but her heart wouldn’t stop trying to beat its way out of her body. Sweat dripped down her spine.
Eventually, the erratic nature of her heart slowed. It didn’t go back to its normal rhythm, but was tempered enough that she didn’t feel like she was on the verge of death.
The thin sheet clung to her body from her slowly drying sweat. She shivered from a sudden chill.
When the healer was certain Luella was at no risk to herself, she pulled away, giving Luella her back as she fiddled with the table of vials and metal instruments. "A stimulant designed to bring a body back from unconsciousness. It was designed at the request of my master—for torture."
Luella’s mind was no longer sluggish. She realized with sudden clarity what the healer meant—why a stimulant to revive someone would be beneficial in torture. To bring them back so they could be hurt again.
She stared down at her right hand. Her wrist was purple and red, swollen.
The healer turned back to her. "Can you speak?"
Luella opened her mouth, then closed it and locked her jaw. She would not obey just because she was asked.
Resigned panic flashed on the healer’s face.
"If you do not… it will not be good for either of us.
He threatened death to me and Desara, but you—he will not kill you.
" She suddenly got right before Luella, hands gripping the edge of the stone table.
"There are far worse fates than death. Do not try to discover what they are. "
Luella stared deeply into the healer’s eyes. They were a soft blue, like the other healer. But whereas the other with the scratchy voice—Desara, Luella thought—had hair that was a weave of white and black, this one had hair of pure silver. Like moonlight.
No shadows were hiding in her blue eyes.
"You’re n-not an Umbra," Luella said. Her voice was unrecognizable.
The healer breathed a sigh of relief. "No. I am not."
"Why?" Luella forced the word out, a hand fluttering to her still-aching chest.
"Master does not turn us all into Umbra.
He"—she swallowed—"likes to keep some of us enslaved as we are.
He says it is more fun. I do not think you understand your situation, Princess Luella.
" Her voice had dropped to the lowest of whispers.
Luella strained to hear. "He is not a mere male. Not any longer. He is pure evil. Darkness. He gets whatever he wants, no matter the cost. And now what he wants is you. I think—you are what he has wanted, has been working toward, this whole time. Don’t try to fight. "
Luella’s bleary eyes flicked to the healer’s silver hair. "You’re a Luna fae."
The healer nodded.
Luella reached out with a weak hand, her ruined right hand still on her lap, unable to be moved. She gripped the healer’s wrist, feeling the bones beneath her fingers. "Help me. Please—you have to."
The healer’s mouth opened. "I—" After a moment, she jerked her hand away. "I cannot. There is no help for you now. No escape. Just… do what he wants. It will be easier that way."
The other healer, Desara, returned. Luella sank into a daze. She was floating outside her body, unable to even sit still because of the stimulant she had been given. She kept fidgeting.
She discovered the healer with the pure silver hair was called Floris.
Luella held onto the name. Names had power.
And now that she held both of the healers’ names, perhaps she could glean more information from them, endear them to her.
They were Luna fae after all. Their features were not soft like an heirus.
Dominium, then. Had they known the King and Queen of Luna?
Would they help her?
Did they feel any sympathy for her as the true Princess of Luna?
Even thinking it made Luella feel hot and cold, perhaps attributed to the elixir within her. To get their help escaping, that would mean she would have to step into her role as the true Princess of Luna.
Luella didn’t know if she could do that.
They forced her to stand and took the blanket from her, leaving her nude.
Restless, she twitched and jerked involuntarily as they washed her with cloths.
She had to lean against the stone wall as they did so, weak.
When the cloth swept down her right arm, she jerked away, slamming into the wall.
Blood was crusted around the fine, spider-web-like sutures at the base of her wrist.
Luella cradled her arm to her chest. "Don’t—touch it."
They shared a look, but relented.
It was only as they led her back to the table, where a plain dressing gown was laid out, that she remembered her ankle.
She had nearly forgotten its pain compared to her wrist. But now that she focused on it, she realized how she favored her uninjured leg, keeping the weight off her inflamed left ankle.
It would be hard to escape with a ruined hand, much less a sprained ankle. She was cut down to only two limbs, for as much help as her injuries granted.
Desara forced Luella’s arms to raise. She kept her hand cradled to her chest, and when it was forced away from her, she staggered from the flash of pain it caused.
Which led the two healers to gentle their motions as they pulled the gown over her head.
But Luella caught how they kept glancing at the darkened doorway.
It was less of a gown and more of a shift.
It fell to her mid-thigh, plain white with scratchy fabric that rubbed against her sore body unpleasantly.
The back was opened, drooping to the base of her spine, leaving her wings entirely revealed.
They were tucked to her back, as if to protect her.
They ached from her flight and fall. She tried to stretch them out, but winced as it sent a cramping sensation through her.
Her hair was left to fall around her shoulders, the waves and curls unruly.
Floris’s hands shook as she touched Luella’s shoulder, her eyes on Luella’s wings. "There. All done. The master will come for you now. Please, don’t fight him," she whispered.
Desara gave Floris a look, but stayed silent.
Luella just stood there. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real.
"Lay back down. He will want to see you. Want you pliant." Desara bit the words out.
Desara grabbed Luella’s elbow—of her good arm, blessedly—then tugged her back to the stone table and forced her to lie down.
Luella’s chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, her heart kicking back up. Each thud was a wet, bloodied beating of her determination.
When Caliban returned, she could only stare at the ceiling. She didn’t move her head to look at him.
"She appears better. Is she able to speak now, or will my throne room have more decorations?"
"Yes, Master." Desara’s scratchy voice filled the room.
Caliban’s face appeared above Luella. His shadowed green eyes peered down at her, pinning her to the stone table. "Speak." He commanded her like she were a canine.
Soft shuffling filled the room. If she did not speak, what would happen to Desara and Floris?
She could sacrifice herself. But not anyone else.
Obey, obey—the words beat against her, in tune with her heart. She could almost hear Vale now. Keep your head down, darling. Do what he wants.
Give him just enough to keep him satisfied, but not enough to give away the pieces of yourself. Don’t break, Tharen would say.
Or maybe not. Maybe that was her latching on to whatever serenity and comfort she could think of. Maybe Tharen wouldn’t care that she was taken. Maybe he liked her gone.
Maybe Vale was glad she was out of sight, so his dragon no longer forced him to care for her.
Even still, Luella could not risk the healers.