Graves was perched at the foot of the bed. His wings trembled faintly behind him, and she wondered if it was from exhaustion. He had saved her, even after lying to her… after she had dismissed him so cruelly on the cliffside.
Graves had still come for her.
Az was missing, as was Bastian. Inside her, their anger was punishing. It made her shake with slight tremors.
Vale rested a hand on the headboard, leaning over her where she sat. "Say it again, Luella, for a part of me wonders if I did not hear you right the first time you spoke."
She shifted to face him. Her back twinged from the scrapes. It had nothing on the tingling of her upper arm, where Tharen had spread a cooling salve over her skin after cleaning it, thenwrapped it in a simple white bandage, with a stern order to limit movement with that arm. The salve worked to numb her skin, turning the throbbing lance of the cut into a strange buzz. It had not needed sutures, blessedly, but Tharen had said it would take a while to heal fully.
When he had first told her that, she had held her tongue. But a part of her wished to say she was glad—for the reminder of what she had endured. Those words would never fall from her lips. A secret for her, forged in the lonely sea.
Something had shifted in the wooden cradle when she had been cast aside, left to die.
Did they feel it, too?
The resolve inside her to change.
"I want to learn how to fly," Luella repeated.
"So, I did hear you correctly," said Vale. "Let me repeat my earlier question.Why?"
"What do you mean,why, Vale?" Was it so far-fetched that she wished to use the wings on her body for what they were meant for?
That sharp coil of anger unfurled inside her, built up by the twin echoes of Az and Bastian, wherever they were… whatever they were doing.
Agitation simmered within her, and she shrugged off Tharen’s hand, standing quickly. She wobbled only slightly, something which she was immensely grateful for. Her cotton shift tickled her upper thighs. Cool air cascaded over her scraped back, teasing her matted feathers.
The three of them stared at her like she was the force that kept the very world spinning—the air blowing. The stir of magic inside her welled, and the curtains billowed with eve-tinged drafts. Her hair was lifted and swept off her shoulders as she stood there, facing them. Her fingers flexed by her sides, the swollen digits throbbing.
It hung just as heavy as the salt-soaked air wrapping around them:
Luella had control over the weather.
Somewhat, at least—or at the very minimum, the propensity to control it once she trained. As Emarelia had mentioned, Luella had towantit, but she did.
"I am so sick of this," she said into the room, backing up until the ends of the billowing curtains brushed her calves and she was able to stare at the three of them at once. "Of feeling helpless."
Electricity raced in her veins. Did they see it crackling atop her skin?
She certainly felt it, currents of lightning simmering.
Thunder boomed outside, and she jolted.
They shared a look she couldn’t decipher, then Vale stepped forward, tone softening. "You misunderstand my question, darling. I am not angry you wish to fly; I am angry you feel forced into this."
She couldn’t even feel resentment that they were calming her; she was only grateful. She didn’t want to ruin the warm haven of the Fallen Isles.
Luella took a steadying breath. "I am not forced into this. Ineededthis—a push." She coughed, throat dry. "I want to learn how to fly so I never feel h-helpless again. It was awful." She wrapped her arms around herself, aching and messy. "To be stuck like that with no way out, knowing that if only I could fly… I could have saved myself instead of waiting to be saved and wondering if you would ever find me."
Their feelings grew inside her until they overtook the anger she felt from Az and Bastian. A trinity of dolorousness.
"Luella, I want you to stop right there." Vale held up a finger. "There is nothing wrong with being saved. We would save you endlessly. It is not a failure to rely on someone else for help whenyou need it." He held up a second finger. "And we will always find you. Make no mistake. If you are taken, we will rescue you, and ash will rain down upon the ones who dared to steal what is ours."
It was a verbal claim, and she shivered from the possession lining his every word. When had it happened… When had Vale begun to see her as something to protect instead of something to use?
And when had she begun to hang onto their every word as if it were the only thing that held truth?
Her eyes lifted to Graves; his quiet dominance belied her submissiveness. In his hushed eyes, she heard a voiceless command:Say you understand, sweetheart.
