She hadn’t known just how loud her power was until it was taken from her.
It felt like a blanket had been thrown over her senses, smothering her. Leaving her in the dark.
Alone.
She had never felt more alone.
"No." Luella tried to sound strong, but even saying a single word forced the spikes to dig in harder. Blood trickled.
Caliban’s eyes dipped to it with dark, appraising mirth.
The shadows coiled around her shoulders. She felt their chill against her wings.
"Do it," Caliban urged. "So they will see who owns you." His voice was quiet.
As she stared up at him, she saw the way shadows curled around his neck and jaw, drifting over his green irises until his entire eye was coated in black.
She wanted to be brave. For herself—for Az, for Bastian, for Graves… for Tharen and Vale.
She wanted to make them proud.
There was no pride in subjugating herself, like he seemed to want from her.
She tipped her chin up. "No," she said loudly.
The word echoed. The Umbra were quiet, save for the faint trickle of watery blood where she imagined it to be lapping against the stone.
Caliban canted his head. "So be it."
His fingers twitched at his side, and the shadows tightened around her, cutting into her belly, twisting around her neck, and making the collar dig in tighter—deeper. She gasped a choked scream as shadows tugged on her lower lip, making her lips part. Her jaw was forced wide open.
Luella was shoved onto her stomach by the shadows. They pinned her.
She saw nothing but her faint reflection in the marbled stone beneath her. Blood dripped from her neck onto the floor.
His boot came into view, prodding at her chin and tilting her face up.
"I can make you hurt in so many ways, conquered Princess. I can make you beg for death," he whispered. "Do this one, little thing—and I will keep you from it all."
Her rapid, short breaths left fog on the shiny tip of his boot. She squeezed her eyes shut as the shadows wrapped tighter. She felt the iciness of one curl high between her thighs, nudging herthere.
She sobbed brokenly.
And pressed her lips to the tip of Caliban’s boot, eyes firmly shut all the while.
One breath—just one—and it was over. The crowd roared with cheers, and the shadows loosened, but still kept her pinned on her stomach at his feet. Tears dripped from her closed lids and fell on his boot, mingling with the droplets of blood.
Crystalline innocence and sanguine horror. Her two essences mingled until the red overtook the clear drops of her watery tears, like the blood in the pool. Blood was always thicker than water.
Caliban stepped away. "Soon, she will be my bride—our Queen!"
She was pulled up to her knees by the shadows and all but dragged over the stone to where Caliban had moved to sit on the large throne. She was limp in the shadows’ hold.
She stayed there, kneeling at his feet, unable to move, unable to breathe. Her head hurt, her heart pounded, and she didn’t want to… be here any longer.
She was a voyeur of her own suffering.
Watching passively as the crowd of Umbra reveled. They touched and tasted, and found no shadowed corners because they were shadows. This whole palace was touched by shadows. They didn’t need to hide what they did, so she was forced to watch it all.
