"I present to you, my Umbra—the conquered Princess of Luna, Luella Ilis Eritrais!"
The crowd roared with cheers and jeers.
"She is mine now. And by belonging to me, she belongs to you, as well. My Umbra." His tone was sickeningly fond. "We won’t lose this war. The rain that gripped the kingdom—hers!" he cried. "The terror of the winds that swept through the lands of our enemy, forced upon Serpentis by her will. She is powerful, and she is now mine."
The tip of his boot brushed her ribs, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
"Stand."
She did not.
The boot pressed harder. "Do you wish to anger me on your first day here, Luella?"
She hated the way he said her name.
"Would you prefer to be forced? I do not care how I get your obedience. The fun is in breaking you. I could just as easily make you mine in truth and coat your insides with my shadows to bend your will to mine. Then, you would truly have no choice at all but to obey. I could do this, but I will not. Do you know why?"
A slithering sensation crawled over her ankles. It was cold—the shadows.
They snaked up her legs and disappeared beneath the bunched-up hem of her shift. She felt coldness high between her legs and tried to squeeze them shut, but couldn’t. They forced her legs to stay parted as the shadows drifted past her hips and waist, tightening as she was suddenly ripped up into a stand.
The shadows forced her legs to move, each step disjointed.
When she was before him, her back to the crowd, the shadows stilled, lingering around her body in warning.
"When I ask you a question, answer. The consequence is not one you wish to endure."
"Why?" She could scarcely recognize the trembling cadence to her voice; one word, yet it was hardly coherent.
Her heart was one long beat in her chest.
"I do not turn you into an Umbra because I do so enjoy the process of breaking my victims. What pleasure are you if you do exactly as I wish? What pleasure is any slave if I do not get to see their tears as they kneel before me, see the way their hands shake, or eyes dart away? Some would cut off their own limbs to be rid of my touch. Are you the same?" Caliban reached out and touched her shoulder; she flinched violently. He smiled. "So predictable."
His eyes turned out to the crowd. "Luella Eritrais is ours. Do you not think she should have something to denote her as such?"
The ripples of sound that swept throughout the crowd had nothing on the roaring of her blood in her ears. She was going to pass out. The room darkened, and she swayed, held up by the shadows.
He snapped his fingers. A male appeared by his side—familiar. Ambrose.
"You d-died. I saw y-you," Luella stuttered, the shadows holding her hostage.
His dark skin was more sallow than she’d remembered, with deep bruises beneath his eyes and the hollows of his cheeks. The shade of his eyes was softer in the light—a deep brown, with no shifting shadows.
There was such anger on his face that she felt sick from it.
Ambrose held out a simple black box to Caliban, who took it and waved him away dismissively. She felt Ambrose’s stare as he walked back down the steps and disappeared into the crowd.
Caliban lifted the lid from the box, rattling it slightly as if to tease her. "Your first gift," he said, lifting whatever it was from within the box.
A necklace. No—she studied it closer and saw it was far from jewelry for adornment.
This was a collar.
Thick black stone that gleamed.
He ran his thumb over the side. As it swept underneath and came away, blood was on the pad of his finger. "Best be careful. This one bites."
He waved his hand, and the shadows forced her to her knees. She slammed into the stone with such force her teeth threatened to crack.
