Chapter 77 Duplicitous
DUPLICITOUS
LUELLA
There was a steady sloshing noise, like water against rocks. For one brief moment, before true lucidity gripped her, Luella fell into waves of disorientation.
Eyes still closed, her lips formed the weak shape of a name:
"Graves?"
She waited for a warm breeze, expecting to open her eyes to billowing curtains. She could almost feel fingers against her cheek, a soft pillow beneath her head, and blankets tucked around her. Her lips curved faintly, and she opened her eyes—
Gilded white stone bars filled her vision. The area beyond swayed, as if she were on a hammock.
She tried to pick out shapes through her blurry vision, tried to make sense of where that strange watery lapping sound was coming from. Blue lights glimmered.
Luella moved her head, her cheek brushing against a cold stone floor.
Her fingers twitched as she reached for the bars.
They were smooth as glass; weakly, she gripped them, trying to pull her sore body into a sitting position.
Her right hand screamed in pain, and the very ground beneath her rocked.
She grew very still, trying to force the rocking to settle.
It did not. The tumultuous feeling—it was reminiscent of being on a small boat, adrift in the ocean.
Half upright, Luella leaned into the bars, cheek pressed against the side, and blinked down at her surroundings.
Marbled stone walls arched above in a shape she knew. A crest in the shape of a moon was set nearly eye level with her, jutting out from the stone wall. It was not quite close enough to touch.
Recognition struck her.
The moon crest.
Below would be a grand throne, made for a false King.
Nearby would be pools of thick red blood, lapping against the stone.
Luella scrambled away from the moon crest, crawling across the rocking floor to the other side of the gilded bars.
She was suspended above the throne room. In a cage.
And there was that smell. Worse somehow now that she was held aloft, above it all. A whisper of rot and decay.
The stench of freedom, a far-fetched ideal now that she was once more caged.
She touched the collar at her throat, finding the skin of her arms scrubbed clean.
A soft fabric slipped over her shoulder.
She had been changed while unconscious. She now wore a gown of pure white silk, like moonlight wrapped around her flesh.
Her wings were tucked at her back, trembling in latent fear.
Laughter cut through the room—then screams.
"Please. I’m sorry! I did what you asked!" A feminine voice.
The throne room came into focus. The Tenebrae stood before the line of heads on spikes.
He held an empty stone spike, its tip sharp and pointed.
He ran his thumb over the edge and smiled, eyes casting over the room.
They briefly lingered on someone just out of Luella’s sight before rising to meet where she was suspended in the cage over his false throne.
"You are awake!" The Tenebrae projected his voice. The female screamed again, and his eyes lowered as he spat, "Silence her!"
The female screamed no more.
The Umbra turned to stare up at Luella.
She wondered what she looked like, caged, staring down at them all.
"Just in time, my bride. You nearly slept through your first wedding gift."
The crowd laughed, a marriage of unsettled chitters from the ones who were not Umbra, compared to the deep, hearty sounds emitted from the possessed.
Bride? Wedding gift?
Even from a distance, he could see the confusion in her eyes.
"Think of this as the first in a long line of gifts to come—to prove what I can do for you," he announced.
What went unspoken was what she could do for him.
His dark hair curled around his temples like fine-spun silk. His form was draped in a strange echo of her satiny dress, but his was a dark mirror. Shadows curled around his neck and jaw, dripping beneath the high collar of his jeweled dark coat.
A circlet was perched atop his head. White stone with a shimmering jewel set between his brows as the end dipped to a sharp point at the center of his forehead.
It was different than a normal crown. Vale’s had risen high above his head in towers of gold, inlaid with jewels; whereas this one did the opposite.
Instead of reaching high, it dipped low, giving the impression that it was adhered to his skull.
The Tenebrae stared at something out of her sight. "Bring her forward."
At first, Luella feared he meant her, but as a chained female was dragged over the marbled floor toward the Tenebrae, she realized who it was that had been pleading with him.
Floris was shoved to her knees before the Tenebrae, wrists manacled and covered in bruises and blood.
Her eyes were filled with tears, spilling over her bloody cheeks.
She raised her head, trembling visibly, and as she did so, she looked beyond the god standing before her, straight toward where Luella peered down at them all.
Luella swallowed.
Floris had betrayed her; it had been the recalcitrant Desara who had truly helped Luella, but—
Could Luella blame the healer? Would she have done the same to keep her Vincire safe? If it had come down to a stranger and Az, whom would she have chosen? In its ease, the answer was sinister.
She understood. As she stared at the healer, on her knees, she tried to nod, to ensure that Floris knew Luella did not blame her.
Luella wasn’t sure if that helped or not; it seemed Floris’s tears only flowed harder.
Arms akimbo, the Tenebrae loomed over the chained healer at his feet.
"The duplicitous healer. I must say, you did all I asked of you—and more.
You obeyed me well. It is a shame that the usefulness of traitors is short-lived.
You know what happens once someone outlives their usefulness to me.
" He bent low. Shadows jumped from his fingertips to her flesh, spilling over her like ink.
"Would you like to join your sister?" Even whispered, the words carried up to Luella.
Floris went catatonic.
The healer thrashed, the manacles at her wrists rattling as she struggled to rise to her feet.
The Umbra behind her kept her down with hands on her shoulders, using great force as the shadows twined around her and forced her to still.
Floris seethed, and when the Tenebrae remained unperturbed, she switched to sobbing, trying to prostrate herself on the ground.
Pressing her forehead to the floor, she begged loudly, "I-I will give anything. Do not harm her. Please—she is innocent. She does not need to pay for my wrongdoings."
But what wrong had Floris done?
Sympathy made Luella’s eyes grow blurry with tears. She was trapped, unable to do anything but watch.
The Tenebrae smiled, shadows stroking over his lips. "It is already done." He stretched out a hand, fingers reaching as he beckoned.
An Umbra came forward from the crowd, a spike in hand. But…
A head was atop the spike.
Mouth stretched into a silent plea for final mercy, silver hair dripping scarlet where blood had soaked the ends, features delicate but retaining a similarity to the weeping, chained healer.
Floris screamed in anguish. "Fawna—"
As if her sister was the last thing keeping her sane, the healer snapped, jerking away from the Umbra holding her as she surged to her feet, uncaring that the shadows were slipping into her mouth and eye sockets, trying to tear her back down to the ground.
The Tenebrae met the eyes of an Umbra at Floris’s back, nodded, and the Umbra brandished a long, straight sword, deadly sharp. Floris was unaware of what was to come, but Luella knew.
She turned her head just before the executioner raised the blade.
There was no thump of a headless body, no sound of muscle and bone being cleaved by steel. Only the Tenebrae’s ringing command of:
"Wait."
Luella looked down.
Floris stared only at her sister’s head, nothing else. The Tenebrae had one hand raised, a darkly mischievous expression on his face as he looked up to meet Luella’s eyes.
"A gift should be beautiful, should it not?"
Hope soared in her mad heart. Was he going to let her live?
Luella’s hands curled around the gilded bars as she leaned up on her knees, feeling the ground sway beneath her.
The Tenebrae’s fingers curled inward toward his palm, and the shadows stretched out into a thin line, like string. It was so delicate, she nearly missed the way it sliced forward, straight through Floris’s neck. Her mouth opened in shock.
Had he missed?
Tiny beads of blood welled along Floris’s neck. Then her body fell to the side. Her head rolled to the floor.
Luella fell onto her bottom in shock, the cage swaying beneath her.
It rocked harder, then dropped, her stomach flipping. The cage slipped to the ground, as if a string that kept it tethered to the ceiling had been loosened. As she descended, she realized that she was next in line to face a god’s wrath.
It settled onto the throne room floor with a low clang, and the Tenebrae stalked forward to unlock the door. It opened without a sound, and she stared up at his shadowed eyes as he held out a hand.
"Come."
The shadows wrapped around her and forced her to take his awaiting palm, urging her to her feet. Once outside the cage, she couldn’t help but look, morbidly curious.
It was a large birdcage. Gilded edges with a softly curved top and circular inside. Gilded flowers adorned the top.
Her bare feet splashed into the watery blood on the floor as the Tenebrae pulled her forward.
Floris’s body had been moved, her head now resting on a spike in line with the others—besides her sister’s. Fawna. Luella held the name tight in her memory, unsure if anyone remained to remember it.
Luella was shoved to her knees, and she barely noted the thud of her bones as they hit the ground. She stared at the line of spikes, afraid to look behind her, lest the executioner’s blade be poised at her nape. She’d rather remain unknowing.
Her heart clenched as she saw a familiar head of dual-toned hair. Desara’s eyes were half-lidded, yet a strange awareness pervaded the blue irises as shadows drifted over her head, where it was upon the spike.
The Tenebrae made a huffing noise when he followed the line of her sight. "She didn’t want to give up where you had gone, but everyone has a weakness." Fabric rustled as he moved right before Luella. She saw his form in her periphery. "What is yours?"
She didn’t speak.
"Did you see my other gift?" Fingers held her jaw and forced her head further to the side, until her eyes settled on a spike further down the line—Ambrose’s head was atop it, eyes wide as they stared right back at her.
Luella flinched away violently.
Her head was forced forward. Silently, she seethed as she met the Tenebrae’s gaze, attempting to imbue every bit of malice she could into a singular look.
"Remember. This had to happen. This is your fault," he said, voice taking a soft tone as he held her face.
"For trying to fly away like a little bird, I will clip your wings.
" The words rose to a roar, ensuring each courtier heard.
"Not both of them, just one, because I want the remaining wing to be your reminder that all of this could have been avoided if you had only given in.
It does not matter now, because I will wed you, my future bride. "
"Wait," Luella whispered as a blade zinged at her back.
Her wings were tucked so tightly to her body, it was as if they were trying to merge with her spine.
The Tenebrae shook his head. "You had your chance. There will be no more waiting—there is only punishment."
Hands were against her wings, forcing them to unfurl. She began to fight weakly against them.
Looming above her, the Tenebrae was unmatched in his wicked rule. "Take the left, because that is the corridor she fled down."
The hands shifted to grip her left wing, crushing the delicate feathers. She gasped in pain as it was stretched out fully. She saw its shape out of the corner of her eye, a flash of pure white.
Shadows curled around her, holding her utterly still, until she could not even tremble from the anticipation of the blade’s fall.
"Try to bear it," the Tenebrae said, green peeking through the shadows in his eyes. It felt like staring up at Vale.
There was a whoosh of air, a collectively held breath from the crowd, then searing pain, unlike anything she’d ever felt before.
It hurt worse than the emergence of her wings, for that at least had been her body’s natural state taking form—this was a perversion of that, a cleaving of her very soul. An intrinsic part of her, ripped away by a sharpened blade.
White feathers scattered against the floor as her cut-off wing fell in a spray of red mist.
Luella wavered on her knees, lips parted in a silent agonized cry. Her balance was off; she teetered to the right, her left side weightless and gushing blood.
The Tenebrae bent. Her chest heaved; she was on the verge of passing out. She stared at his green eyes, pretending it was Vale, come to rescue her.
One of her feathers was clutched in his hand. He spun it between his index finger and thumb, the ends red with blood. "When birds are wounded, they need to be mended by a master. Only then can they eat out of the hand that healed them. What about you, flightless bird, will you be caged by my hand?"
Darkness speckled Luella’s vision. The shadows coiled around her—the only thing keeping her upright. She grew cold and numb, her blood seeping into the watery floor.
He stroked the bloodied feather over the edge of her cheek. "Pain teaches loyalty."
The excited cheers of the Umbra bordered on animalistic.
The last thing she was aware of was the Tenebrae standing and proclaiming, "Pin the conquered Princess’s wing to the wall above my throne!"