He could not storm into Luna and steal Luella back. For countless reasons. The first of which: it would be suicide. He did not care for himself, only that if he died, it meant he would no longer be here to protect her.
Mate, hissed the resting dragon.
Vale didn’t find himself shoving the possessive impulses down. A godsdamned sense of agreement unfurled inside him, curling throughout his body like smoke.
The dragon huffed, pleased.She is ours.
As if all it had taken to tame his beast had been to finally give in, Vale’s dragon was no longer uncontrollable—or perhaps that was because the stakes were higher than ever, one wrong move and they’d lose her. Maybe his dragon sensed this and was walking a careful line between single-minded obsession and rage.
Vale sighed, continuing to write his plea. The letter was being sent to Nix this time. The wolf shifter kingdom, covered in frost, was an ally when it benefited them, and wolf shifters were excellent fighters.
They had aided when he conquered Solis, in exchange for a steady supply of grain, produce, and livestock that their frozen lands could not sustain.
A pile of returned letters rested by Vale’s elbow, each one a refusal. He offered up gold, jewels, farmland,anything. Yet none of the kingdoms dared accept, unwilling to risk being noticed by the Tenebrae. The surge of violence had struck fear into the hearts of even the most fearless. They’d preferred to be silent.
Vale couldn’t help but wonder… If he had a queen, it would all be different.
His dragon rumbled at the mere thought.
If he had a queen, if he made Luella the Queen of Serpentis, his kingdom wouldn’t appear as weak as it did now. The castle was nearly finished rebuilding, but even when it was returned to its original splendor, would it be enough to gain alliances?
He could already hear the sweet tone to her voice, trembling with betrayal. But if she hated him from a throne rather than a grave, he could live with that.
Vale scrubbed a hand over his jaw, deep in thought. The flames from the burning candle caught the glint of his rings and deepened the bruises and cuts on his knuckles. He couldn’t risk an outright war—not yet. But perhaps once Luella was Queen, it would be enough to turn the tide in their favor, garner support, and rally the kingdoms against the Tenebrae.
Vale was not so fucking stupid as to think that Luella would happily go along with his plans and let herself be forced into a marriage. If it meant they would all be saved, would she be more open to the idea?
If Vale helped Luella reclaim her true home, her kingdom of Luna, would that be enough to earn her forgiveness?
He doubted she had ever been given a kingdom before…
Before marriage, they must be bound, as the prophecy dictated:
The Vincire will be bound, and the Queen will be crowned.
They couldn’t risk doing anything out of order.
Vale tapped the feathered end of the quill against his knee, mumbling under his breath, "A splintered lineage, to bring together the kingdoms."
Luella’s lineage was splintered—a fae of Luna by birth and Solis by force. If he wed her, that would have to be enough to bring together the kingdoms. To defeat the Tenebrae, his half-brother.
Vale placed the quill’s tip to parchment once more and wrote. Then, with a subtle shift, the nail of his index finger lengthened into a curved talon. He pricked his thumb and pressed the bloodied print at the bottom of the page. Signed in blood and sealed with the weight of his crown. He had never loved being the King, but if he could use his status to gift her safety, he would wield it without hesitation.
73
THERE IS NO SURVIVING
LUELLA
Luella had not seen Caliban in a long while now. The food and water cup arrived. He no longer had to force her; she drank and ate of her own volition.
Floris and Desara still showed up to give her the vile-tasting elixir that made her sweaty and flushed, before falling into a deep, feverish sleep, where she dreamed of Graves, his hand cupping her throat as he forced her into the stone floor. Or Bastian, licking her neck, his fangs pricking at her flesh to the point of pain. And Az, who would speak so softly to her, begging her to relinquish her freedom to make it all stop.
Luella knew now:
She was going mad.
The empty stone cup was set on the stone tray. She placed it right by the half-eaten pile of mushy food. Her stomach turned over at the sight. It held no smell, merely the faintest, lifeless traces of herbs. She felt it churn in her belly.
