Chapter 78 Towered Maze #2
The next evening, deep beneath the prison island at the Fallen Isles, Graves let his blade carve over the strung-up Umbra’s flesh.
The Umbra’s face was a mottled ruin of bruises and strips of peeled flesh; the skin kept trying to regenerate, but Graves kept cutting it away. The Umbra screeched, but went silent when Graves stepped close, demanding answers about Luella and the Tenebrae’s plans.
"Graves," Vale announced as he entered the torture chamber. "Has he talked yet?"
Graves didn’t look back. He hadn’t the time to confront Vale about what he’d learned from Cassius—about reaching out to other kingdoms for aid. Because Graves knew Vale. If he had asked Syreni for aid, he’d have asked other kingdoms, too.
The dragon King was nothing if not thorough.
"Not yet." Graves stared into the Umbra’s shadowed eyes.
Dirty strands of hair clung to the Umbra’s ruined face.
"It doesn’t matter." His head thrashed, the back of his skull slamming against the wall. His voice fractured into multitudes. "You’ll die, die, and she’ll be forced to—" He stopped, almost sheepish as he glanced down, before lifting his gaze through his lashes.
His lips were a slash of scarlet over his ruined face.
"Forced to what?" Graves dragged the dagger’s point under the Umbra’s jaw.
When he didn’t answer, Graves applied pressure.
He moved the blade up, then down again. Graves clicked his tongue.
"Still loyal to a master who does not give a fuck about you?
" Graves slid his gloved fingers into the top of the cut and pulled.
The Umbra screamed as skin tore free in strips, blood bubbling.
Graves conversed with Vale, as if they stood in a meeting room instead of a torture chamber. "When were you going to tell me you sent letters to the other kingdoms asking for aid?"
The scent of burning embers filled the chamber. "How did you find out about that?"
The flesh came free with a wet sound, and he threw it to the ground.
"I hear everything. How do you think?" Graves’s tone was acerbic.
There was a pause. In it, Graves carved away another piece of the Umbra’s flesh.
"You went to see him… in Syreni." Vale didn’t say Cassius’s name.
It was no surprise that Graves was acquainted with the mer Prince. Syreni wasn’t far from the Fallen Isles. Graves had grown up alongside Cassius, seeing him often in youth, then less so once they grew up. They hadn’t spoken in centuries. But Graves had been keeping an eye on him through his spies.
"Cassius said he’d offer Serpentis his aid. He told me the King of Syreni turned down your plea."
"It wasn’t a plea," Vale snapped.
Finally, Graves looked at him. Vale stood at the edges of the room. His golden hair was longer, brushing his chin.
"Wasn’t it?" Graves asked quietly.
"There is only so much I can do as the King. What is expected of me—" Vale ran a hand over his jaw. "If I did what I truly wanted, this whole damned world would burn."
The tip of Graves’s dagger stilled. The Umbra trembled, but watched them with greedy interest.
"Maybe it should," Graves muttered.
Silence settled between them. Graves was numb to all but the feel of blood where it splattered against his carefully covered body.
When the Umbra was more exposed muscle than skin, he finally succumbed. The shadows in his eyes shifted from blue back to darkness. He sobbed, the chains rattling.
"What does the Tenebrae plan to do with Luella Eritrais?" Graves asked again.
"You’ll die. He’ll kill you, and it won’t matter because he always gets what he wants."
Graves smiled beneath the cowl. "So do I."
"You haven’t—met him. He’s ruthless."
Footsteps approached. Vale’s shadow fell over the chained Umbra. "So are we," the dragon King hissed.
"He won’t just kill you. He’ll kill everything you’ve ever loved." The Umbra gave a gasp.
Graves and Vale exchanged a glance at the Umbra’s unusual cooperation. Umbra typically taunted until the end, more laughter than coherent words. Yet here, a very coherent, nearly pleading Umbra was—chained and begging.
Graves’s eyes narrowed on the Umbra’s—on the blue shade surfacing through the shadows.
Foamy blood began to bubble past his lips. "He’s taking her… to the Lunar Temples. Deep in the mountains—" The Umbra coughed up more blood. "To wed her."
Vale surged forward, but Graves stopped him, eyeing his bare hands.
Vale’s lips curled, but he stepped back. Graves held the dagger loosely; though, he sensed he wouldn’t need it anymore.
"When?" Graves asked.
"In—three days." The Umbra’s chin dropped to his chest. He began to laugh, and when he looked back up, his eyes were black. "You fools."
Blood spilled over his lips. His body seized, then went limp.
It was quiet.
"He’s dead, then?" Vale asked.
Graves stared at the Umbra’s unmoving chest. "Yes."
Vale turned and strode out. Graves hurried to follow through the corridor, slick with blood, both old and new.
"Where are you going?"
Outside, it was devoid of rain, but Vale’s slitted green eyes were turbulent as he hissed, "To tell the others to prepare. We leave for Luna."