He worked his wings faster, and it still didn’t seem fast enough. Somehow, he knew, instinctively, that she would be at the source of that storm ahead.
Then came the rain. It started as a light mist, and it stayed that way for some time, dampening his skin and wetting his lips. Then, however, it turned harder. Every wing beat sent up icy shards of thick rain around him, stinging his skin and obscuring his vision. The ocean far below him was hidden in the sheets of rain.
He dove lower, so low that his fingers trailed over the sea. His reflection peered back up at him as he swept over it. Black wings, rain-plastered hair. The ocean’s calmness was unnatural, for the sky’s storm was angered.
Luella was close. He felt her in his chest, like a thrumming heartbeat, echoed with his own.
A speck in the distance made him jolt. A wooden boat, bobbing across the too-calm waters.
Graves knew.
It was her.
His Vincire lay motionless in the small boat, and she, too, was small. Curled on her side, her white, soaked wings draped over her like a feathery blanket. His wings arced into the water. He slowed as he descended, but the small boat still rocked.
She didn’t move.
That was when he saw the blood.
Red blood coated her torn gown and wings, wet rivulets racing down her skin, and a tiny puddle under where she lay.
He fumbled over the tiny seat fixed into the boat, falling to his knees before her. The boat rocked unsteadily. He used his forearm to wipe rain from his eyes as he stared down at her. Still and sweet, she lay. If not for the blood, he would’ve thought she was merely sleeping. She always looked so gentle in rest.
With a shaking hand, Graves touched her elbow, throat tightening as he saw the coarse ropes binding her arms together.
Thunder roared overhead. They needed to get out of here—quickly, before her storm truly unleashed the force of its fury upon them.
"Luella." Graves leaned down, chest brushing her wings. "Sweetheart. Please,please. Wake up. I need you to wake up." He couldn’t do this alone.
His fingers trailed up to her shoulder, and it was like tiny jolts of electricity popped from her flesh, shocking him. He yanked his hand away, and in a start, she awoke, chest heaving and eyes wild. Lucid.
Thank gods.
"Graves?" Luella gasped. Her bound arms jerked, and Graves reached down to work to untangle the knots. When they unraveled and fell to the floor of the boat, she shot up and wrapped herself around him, arms locked around his neck, sobs wild like her eyes had been. His neck was wet—with rain or her tears…
A part of him realized the only reason she clung to him so desperately was because he was the only one here.
"I’m here. I’m here, sweetheart," Graves soothed. His fingers swept over the blood on her, and he let himself have this—just for a moment. Let himself hold her, until he knew he must let go. She shivered, soaked to the bone as he gently forced her away from him. They both knelt on the floor of the boat, and her eyes never left his, even as water lapped against the sides and rain sluiced through the air.
Graves had so much to ask her, but the blood… "Where are you hurt?"
She shook her head, rubbing her red, raw wrists. Blood ran down her pale forearms and dripped from her fingers. "A cut on my arm." She twisted her arm until he saw the angry gash.
A small stream of blood dripped from it; he gently took it, anger pulsing inside him. It wasn’t too deep. Tharen could healit. Graves assumed the blood pooling on the wood below was from crusted blood, rewetted from the heavy rain.
"Nothing else?"
Luella shook her head again, teeth digging into her lower lip. Her face was unmarked, but lined with worry. Her eyes broke from his, staring out at the sea, the rain beating against it.
"How are we going to get out of here?" she asked, voice breaking. She coughed.
He stood, and the boat swayed. She stayed kneeling.
Graves’s wings unfurled, rain sliding down the tips. "We have to fly."
He waited for her rebuttal, ready for it, but she drew in an audible, shaking breath, hands gripping the sides of the boat as she slowly pushed herself up. Her white wings were a mix of dirt, blood, and water. She fell into him, and he caught her, his wings steadying him.
"It’s safe?" she whispered, staring at his wings.
