Resigned panic flashed on the healer’s face. "If you do not… it will not be good for either of us. He threatened death to me and Desara, but you—he will not kill you." She suddenly got right before Luella, hands gripping the edge of the stone table. "There are far worse fates than death. Do not try to discover what they are."
Luella stared deeply into the healer’s eyes. They were a soft blue, like the other healer. But whereas the other with the scratchy voice—Desara, Luella thought—had hair that was a weave of white and black, this one had hair of pure silver. Like moonlight.
No shadows were hiding in her blue eyes.
"You’re n-not an Umbra," Luella said. Her voice was unrecognizable.
The healer breathed a sigh of relief. "No. I am not."
"Why?" Luella forced the word out, a hand fluttering to her still-aching chest.
"Master does not turn us all into Umbra. He"—she swallowed—"likes to keep some of us enslaved as we are. He says it is more fun. I do not think you understand your situation, Princess Luella." Her voice had dropped to the lowest of whispers. Luellastrained to hear. "He is not a mere male. Not any longer. He is pure evil. Darkness. He gets whatever he wants, no matter the cost. And now what he wants is you. I think—you are what he has wanted, has been working toward, this whole time. Don’t try to fight."
Luella’s bleary eyes flicked to the healer’s silver hair. "You’re a Luna fae."
The healer nodded.
Luella reached out with a weak hand, her ruined right hand still on her lap, unable to be moved. She gripped the healer’s wrist, feeling the bones beneath her fingers. "Help me. Please—you have to."
The healer’s mouth opened. "I—" After a moment, she jerked her hand away. "I cannot. There is no help for you now. No escape. Just… do what he wants. It will be easier that way."
The other healer, Desara, returned. Luella sank into a daze. She was floating outside her body, unable to even sit still because of the stimulant she had been given. She kept fidgeting.
She discovered the healer with the pure silver hair was called Floris. Luella held onto the name. Names had power. And now that she held both of the healers’ names, perhaps she could glean more information from them, endear them to her. They were Luna fae after all. Their features were not soft like an heirus. Dominium, then. Had they known the King and Queen of Luna?
Would they help her?
Did they feel any sympathy for her as the true Princess of Luna?
Even thinking it made Luella feel hot and cold, perhaps attributed to the elixir within her. To get their help escaping, that would mean she would have to step into her role as the true Princess of Luna.
Luella didn’t know if she could do that.
They forced her to stand and took the blanket from her, leaving her nude.
Restless, she twitched and jerked involuntarily as they washed her with cloths. She had to lean against the stone wall as they did so, weak. When the cloth swept down her right arm, she jerked away, slamming into the wall. Blood was crusted around the fine, spider-web-like sutures at the base of her wrist.
Luella cradled her arm to her chest. "Don’t—touch it."
They shared a look, but relented.
It was only as they led her back to the table, where a plain dressing gown was laid out, that she remembered her ankle. She had nearly forgotten its pain compared to her wrist. But now that she focused on it, she realized how she favored her uninjured leg, keeping the weight off her inflamed left ankle.
It would be hard to escape with a ruined hand, much less a sprained ankle. She was cut down to only two limbs, for as much help as her injuries granted.
Desara forced Luella’s arms to raise. She kept her hand cradled to her chest, and when it was forced away from her, she staggered from the flash of pain it caused. Which led the two healers to gentle their motions as they pulled the gown over her head. But Luella caught how they kept glancing at the darkened doorway.
It was less of a gown and more of a shift. It fell to her mid-thigh, plain white with scratchy fabric that rubbed against her sore body unpleasantly. The back was opened, drooping to the base of her spine, leaving her wings entirely revealed. They were tucked to her back, as if to protect her. They ached from her flight and fall. She tried to stretch them out, but winced as it sent a cramping sensation through her.
Her hair was left to fall around her shoulders, the waves and curls unruly.
Floris’s hands shook as she touched Luella’s shoulder, her eyes on Luella’s wings. "There. All done. The master will come for you now. Please, don’t fight him," she whispered.
Desara gave Floris a look, but stayed silent.
Luella just stood there. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real.
"Lay back down. He will want to see you. Want you pliant." Desara bit the words out.
