"That’s not?—"
"Don’t lie. I know you, remember; even if you don’t want me to. I do."
And Luella did. Want him. But she shook her head, resisting the urge to lean into his hand.
"What do you want me to say, then, Graves? That I wish for you to… t-take me?" She was getting better at saying those words, but it still made her blush. "That I wish this tension wasn’t between us, and we could pretend things are as they were? Because even then, when you stalked me and watched me, a part of me still resented you. At least now, I resent the whole you, and not a carefully crafted lie."
A pained expression befell him, his lids shuttering. "You’re wanting, but you don’t want me. I know. Youwant, but never me."
She didn’t speak. Were his words true?
Was she wanting? Yes, hopelessly so.
Did she not want him?
Luella didn’t think that was wholly true.
Time had passed here on the Isles, softening his lies, but not erasing them entirely. She remembered his touch, his kiss, thefeel of his stubble against her cheeks, turning her delicate skin pink.Thatwas the truth. Everything else was muddy water.
She turned her face into his palm, breathing against him. "I do not know what to tell you, only that I need time."
Time was all she could offer him. Not a promise, not surety she could forgive—she would never forget. But time.
Graves opened his eyes. Silence stretched between them. His palm was still against her cheek, as if he was afraid to move it and scare her away, break the illusory haze that gripped them both in the wake of her nightmare.
She rubbed her cheek against him like a feline, and it reminded her of Ven, how the small creature sought comfort from Luella or Az, rubbing her small head against their legs as they passed.
Graves broke the silence. "Can I take you somewhere?"
"Where?" she whispered against his palm, nose brushing the inside of his wrist, where every beat of his heart fluttered the skin there.
His thumb brushed her cheekbone. "We’d have to fly. Like before." Cryptic, he didn’t answer her question ofwhere. "Is that okay?"
Was it?
"Yes," Luella settled on. "It is okay."
She found she yearned to be back in the sky. To feel that feeling once more. Like she might faint and cry from euphoria at the same time. Again, he showed her what fear and wonder were like combined.
She wrapped a robe around herself, blushing when his eyes darkened as she fit her arms into the sleeves and tightened the belt. Her feet were bare. The golden dawn sun broke through the haze of mist and clouds this morning, warming her skin.
It had grown to be so hot as the weeks passed here. The warmth was nothing like what she had experienced at Solis. It was humid and thick and smelled of salt.
Luella liked to think, no matter where she went or what she would endure, that scent would follow her always.
On the stone outlook, Graves’s wings snapped out. She couldn’t help but marvel at their beauty.
"I have to carry you," he warned.
She stepped closer when it appeared he would not take the first step. "I know."
His arms wrapped around her, making the hem of her long robe slide up her calves. He held her gently, like a princess, his arms under her thighs and back, her legs draped over his forearm, her arms locked around his neck. It was just as he carried her when he’d come to her rescue.
The leaves fluttered in the trees beyond, the bridges swinging in the breeze.
It had been oscillating between furious and calm each day. On days when her flying lessons went well and she made progress, it settled into a happy little flutter, kicking up fallen leaves and making the curtains rustle on occasion. When she felt as though it was hopeless and she was helpless, the wind would turn harsh and biting, chasing away the warmth as a misty fog gripped the Isles, obscuring the islands.
Those days were the hardest for them all. For Luella felt the trepidation of her Vincire as they wondered if her chaos would finally arrive.
