Luella sighed, hand falling to her lap. She felt stifled, like the walls were closing in. This place, once beautiful to her, had a trapping sort of magnificence now. An allure that drew her in, but now she’d found herself caged and unable to flee. Even if she wanted to, she wondered if she would now. Or had she let herself fall into complacency here, too comfortable to move?
"You look like you need to be distracted. Dance with me." The words were said from right before her.
She looked up and found they were all watching her closely.
Graves stood before her, his dark wings stretched out and proud, nearly blocking the sight of Vale beyond.
Her lips parted. "I don’t—I’m not wearing shoes." The excuse rolled off her tongue.
Graves’s eyes fell to her feet, tucked underneath her. Her bare toes poked from beneath the hem of her gown.
Across from her, Tharen’s icy eyes fell to them, too.
She draped her skirts over her feet.
Graves made an odd humming sound. "Stay here."
He turned to leave quickly, and she lost sight of him as he ventured deeper into the throng of Fallen.
While he was gone, Luella’s eyes drifted to Sora, who cooed over Jili in her lap, one hand pressed over her swelling stomach. Sorill was nearby, speaking with Soro.
An uncomfortable emotion twinged in Luella’s gut at the sight of such happiness.
A family.
Something she’d been robbed of.
Maybe she could find a new family.
Graves returned after some time, and she found she hadn’t moved in his absence.
He held out a gloveless hand—she wondered what made him choose to wear them some days and others not. She took his hand with a sigh.
Did she even have a choice?
You always have a choice, but if you don’t choose us, then you may find your choices stolen, Bastian whispered into her mind.
As Luella walked by Bastian, he peered up at her from under his lashes. The way his red eyes sparked with want reminded her of how he’d appeared as he looked up at her from between her thighs, grinning.
Graves stopped right in the middle of the room. The other Fallen laughed kindly with each other, some looking their way with curiosity. And others?—
The thirst in her throat, the dryness of her tongue, the hunger, the wind, the fathomless sea?—
Her feet stalled, wings shuddering.
Some Fallen looked at her with discontent. She was an interloper here. Her wings made it clear that she did not belong.
The Queen’s decree offered no peace to Luella. If these Fallen wanted to hurt her, they could—they would.
A warm finger notched beneath her chin, lifting her face.
"You think so loudly. I don’t have Bastian’s magic, but even I know where your thoughts go," Graves rasped. With the hair along his jaw and scar on the side of his face, he appeared nothing like a prince. His other hand was held behind his back.
"I told you I cannot dance." Luellacould. She loved to dance barefoot—but she didn’t want to have all these eyes on her.
Her excuse was a paltry attempt at brushing off his request. Graves saw right through it.
Graves revealed the hand tucked behind his back, revealing a pair of soft slippers with tiny gems adorning the tips. They were a tan shade, like sand, with blue jewels like water.
