And saw Enora, beneath clean, pure water, struggling for breath as her lover held her under.
When Luella opened her eyes, the blood pool was calm, and Caliban appeared triumphant.
She sat there for so long, she wondered if she’d grow roots, curling beneath the stone as flowers bloomed on her skin.
"You look tired," said Caliban. His fingers gripped her hair and forced her head back until she met his eyes.
She wondered what he thought when he looked into her eyes—did he see how she felt…gone?
He wanted to break her, but already she was broken. It hadn’t taken much. Perhaps she had endured the process of being broken far before he’d ever gotten to her.
"I think it is time to take you to your new room."
At her look of fear, he laughed lowly, dragging her face up higher.
"You will love it. If my scouts are to be believed, it is nothing you haven’t experienced before. All of this is not new to you, isn’t that right? You’ve been forced to kneel before a king before. Forced in front of a court that wants nothing more than your blood on their hands, your heart in their palms. None of this is novel—don’t pretend you’re shocked or frightened. Not when the King of Serpentis did this very same thing to you." His voice dropped. "He paraded you about. Treated you like his. Claimed you as a war prize. What makes us so different?"
His thumb dug into her jaw, forcing her mouth to open.
Luella narrowed her eyes.
"If you don’t answer, I can still find a way to get the information I want. You’d break so easily, I think. Look at you—already broken and I’ve barely done anything yet. Did he not treat you well?"
He didn’t say Vale’s name, as if unwilling to speak it.
"I may have been a war prize, butVale"—she stressed, voice wobbling barely—"never treated me like this."
Caliban bared his teeth, shadows flickering. She stared at the planes of his face, the line of his jaw. How could he be so similar, yet so different from Vale?
It was strange to her that Vale was the serpent between the two of them—because she had never met a being more vile, wicked, and forked-tongued than the male above her.
"If there’s one thing I am certain of, it is my bro—the King of Serpentis and I share the same father. That means we share the same love for hurting females. Did you know my father raped my mother? That was how I was born. She was a concubine, but not of her own will. Some females gave their bodies willingly for money or jewels, to be told they mean something and have worth. Not my mother."
The shadows blended, shifting in his eyes to reveal the green, then darkening again, like he warred against them. "She wanted nothing of the sort. That didn’t matter to my father. He took her anyway. When I was born, he tried to kill me. He never meant to have a bastard. When he was killed, I laughed and laughed andlaughed."
Luella trembled in his hold. He was evil. Deranged. The shadows had turned him into a mockery of the male of her dreams.
Enora’s name danced on the tip of her tongue. He didn’t know that Luella knew. For now, she would keep it secret.
"You’re tired," he repeated, the sharp, sadistic glee flickering. "Come. Let me show you to your new home."
He stood, and the shadows forced her to follow.
The crowd stilled as Caliban walked down the steps into their midst, and Luella was tugged behind. The collar dug into her neck, and her legs trembled as sensation rushed back into them.
The Umbra’s eyes trailed after her. One stood out:
Ambrose stood by the wall, a glass in hand, knuckles white as he gripped it. The shadows under his eyes were stark. She couldn’t reconcile with what she’d seen—how Caliban had shoved his hand in his chest—with the male, living and breathing before her.
Ambrose caught her eye and raised his glass. A female knelt by his legs, cheek rubbing against his thigh as her painted nails scratched over the seam of his trousers. He fisted his hand in herhair and bent down to press his lips to hers, eyes never leaving Luella’s as she was pulled from the room.
The halls were dark; the shadows were cold.
Down, down, they went. The halls circled down into the pit of the castle.
Caliban’s steps never faltered, and hers did not, either, but only because the shadows kept her upright. If not for them tangling around her chest and legs, she would have fallen long ago.
"The dungeons," Caliban proclaimed, as he stopped at a hollow and dark cavern. Rusted iron bars and tall ceilings. It smelled of dust.
