She heard the distant roar of the rain. It fell louder—louder. Until even the crowd behind her filled with sounds of worry. Caliban’s eyes cut to them as he yelled:
"Do not fear! She does not yet have the power to undo us. I will bend her resolve, break her, and forge her magic until it can be turned into the greatest of weapons. Our enemies will be felled by my power over her."
He was taking all the credit for her magic—unwilling to even acknowledge the fact that her power was, supposedly, greater than his.
In his mind, she was a tool, a vessel to be used.
Anger filled her like a storm. The walls were stone—neither wind nor rain could break through. But she felt other things to be used, that called to her.
The pool of bloodied water was like the flow of blood in her veins. The magic within her uncurled, reaching, reaching—and she felt the exact moment it latched on to the water.
The crowd gasped. She felt as the water grew.
His knuckles grew white where he held the collar in his hands. He reached forward, lifting her chin with two fingers. Hisstrength was bruising. She couldn’t rip away, forced to bend to his liking.
The water was a force unto itself, as was her magic, but it was so strange, the way she felt it roar on her behalf, as if an incensed entity coming to her aid. Waves fell on the crowd. Choking gasps sounded as a few Umbra were drowned by the rising water and falling waves. She felt it pour down their throats and enter their lungs. She shook.
"Enough!" Caliban roared, his nails cutting into her flesh and leaving crescent indents. Blood welled, dripping from the stinging, shallow cuts on her jaw and chin.
"You wish for me to obey you?" she managed to say through the pounding terror inside her. "I thought you—desired my magic. Don’t you w-want me to be powerful?"
It was risky, goading him like this. He could snap her neck before she would know what had been done to her. She knew he would not kill her—but there were far worse fates than death.
And Luella found out just what one of those fates was as Caliban snapped forward like an awaiting serpent, both hands on her cheeks, lifting her, all while his shadows kept her against the ground like a marble statue. Her neck ached from the strain as he tilted her head up unnaturally. Her spine twinged.
The collar was hooked around his thumb, the cool sleekness of it digging into her cheek as he held her face steady.
"You are chaos incarnate, and you don’t even recognize the power inside you. The way you could make this realm—and the Above, the Below—bend a knee before you. You want so little. It’s almost charming. If it wasn’t so sickeningly pathetic."
His shadows curled up her body, beneath her shift—she shivered from the frigid feel of them as they slithered over her breasts and up her neck. He moved one hand away from her, lifting the collar. He did something to make it unlatch. She saw the spikes on the inside. They were blunt, thick. It would hurt.
Her hair was swept away from her neck.
His jaw was set, green peeking through the shadows in his eyes. It looked too much like Vale. She had to look away.
"This is your penance until you can be collared in other ways—until your magic bends to my hand and not its own."
Caliban placed the collar on her neck. His fingers drifted over her spine. It clicked as it latched. The spikes dug in fiercer, poking at her incessantly. She felt one poke at her throat, making it hard to swallow down the saliva that had accumulated in her mouth.
All at once, the rain stopped. Her magic disappeared entirely. And Luella understood what the collar was for.
"The conquered Princess!" Caliban roared, waving a shadow-tipped hand toward where she knelt before him.
The crowd roared, and the space inside her that had once been so full was now empty and cold.
65
THICKER THAN WATER
LUELLA
"Kiss my boot in front of my Umbra, conquered Princess, so they will see who owns you."
The tip of Caliban’s boot nudged Luella’s knee. She shivered, throat closing up—which only made the spikes dig harder into her throat. She tried to stop from swallowing, to temper her fear, but it was as if she were trying to swim up a waterfall. Futile.
Luella gagged from the pressure of the spikes. She felt something pop along the delicate line of her throat, her skin giving way to the edges. Hot blood leaked from beneath the collar, dripping down her neck.
It was so quiet—no rain, no thrumming inside her chest. She wanted to touch her chest and feel the absence of her power.
