Conquered Princess.
The voice.
One she knew.
Caliban.
She trembled, hands shaking. The words bounced around in her skull. A hiss that vibrated through the air.
This darkness. Just like the one that befell the throne room in Serpentis.
They all knew what was coming now.
The Tenebrae.
"He’s h-here," Luella whispered, and her words were so loud in the dark.
She felt strong, warm hands on her bare shoulders and gasped, but realized it was Tharen behind her, yanking her against his chest to keep her safe.
Her scalp tingled, awareness slicing through her fear. The Fallen were behind them in the throne room. Each shifting footstep and rustling wing was magnified tenfold by the hushed murkiness. No one spoke—as if afraid of what their words would bring. Afraid one wrong move, one wrong word, would make the waiting darkness wrap around them and rip them to shreds.
Her overactive mind conjured hands reaching for her. She could almostfeelthem, brushing her ankles. A sob crawled its way up her throat, escaping softly.
Az hushed her. She felt his hands on her neck, thumbs brushing her jaw. She could recognize it was him by touch, alone.
Luella was crushed between her demon and the Prima—they were both so close she could barely breathe.
She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to be here. Terror hollowed her out.
Her forehead fell to Az’s chest. He held her tighter.
The air seemed charged with the promise of violence. The threat of anguish. It loomed over them all. The sound of the leaves rustling in the breeze made her whimper. It took her a moment to realize it wasn’t the sound of footsteps.
Why was everyone so silent? Why did no one move?
Were they paralyzed in fear like she was?
She kept shaking.
Her magic thudded like a second heartbeat. The air kicked up into a fearsome howl, swirling around them so violently she could no longer hear her own breathing.
"Luella." Tharen’s mouth brushed her ear. "Graves is coming to get you." He spoke so low, she strained to hear. His lips were warm, his hand on her shoulders digging in to still her quivering.
She nodded. Maybe. Did she? She didn’t know. She knew nothing past darkness and fear.
Tharen’s hands tightened on her. He gave a low rumble. Perhaps that had been from Az before her, however. Regardless, she felt the vibrations through her, soothing something within her that begged to be soothed.
"Be ready," Tharen whispered.
Her hand reached behind her and found his hip. She gripped the end of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as if searching for a lifeline or saving grace.
She was unmoored. Terror was too small a word for what lived in her now.
She felt their emotions—possession, protectiveness, and a low, kindling sort of fear that made the very hairs on her nape stand on end.
If they were unnerved, how did that bode for the rest of them?
The first scream shattered through the room like a bolt of lightning.
