The word was strangled, and she had to strain to hear it. But oh, was it ever enough.
Another tear slipped down her cheek. She blinked it away. "Thank you."
Pressure at her throat, and she knew the Tenebrae had forced Caliban into submission.
It was the Tenebrae who told her, "Your Vincire will be my new watchers. I will place their heads on platters and decorate our marital bed with them. Their eyes will watch as Ifuckyou," he bit out the word. "This is the punishment for your disobedience."
Luella curled in on herself. A sob was stifled by the force of his hand on her throat.
"Was it worth it?" he asked.
Golden light from the fire flickered over them both, warming her skin.
She told the truth. "I don’t know."
After Luella’s…outburst, as the Tenebrae had so eloquently described her unbroken rage, she was taken to his original destination. Out of the throne room, down the lonely, echoing corridors, spiraling up steps, until the ceilings rose into beautiful arched domes. The stone walls turned to windows, and as she was roughly led past, she craned her head to look.
What she saw stole her breath. It feltright. Like a piece of herself that she hadn’t known was missing had been slotted back into place. She breathed, and felt the spikes dig into her throat, felt the absence of her wing and the ruins of her form, and wondered if, in time, she could be as vastly powerful as the sight before her.
A distant mountain range stretched, tipped in white snowcaps. It was evening, and through the cloudless brilliance of the sky, the sun set, warming the shadows of flower fields and the rippling lakes that dotted them. The faint glow of the moon began to illuminate the sky, the barest impression as the sun had not yet set fully.
Her good hand traced over the cold window, and the shadows forced her onward.
Until double doors swung open with a bang, revealing quarters fit for royalty.
A grand bed set on a raised platform made of marbled stone, spikes jutting from each corner, the ends carved into a moon crest. Her right hand tremored at the sight of the spikes.
The sheets on the bed pooled to the cold, marbled floor, and her bare feet did not make a sound as she was forced to a large wardrobe, which the Tenebrae opened with ease, revealing a manner of clothes that was similar to what she’d always seen him wear.
From within, he pulled out a white gown and a matching white cape, though larger than what would fit her. He unclasped the cape he wore, and she turned her head. Fabric rustled as she watched the golden sunlight dim through the windows near the bed, until everything grew dark in the heavy, foreboding evening light.
Shadows brushed the straps of her gown, and she turned her head back sharply, finding the Tenebrae half-dressed. Bare-chested, breeches unlaced wantonly. His chest was pale, honed in lean muscle.
Luella staggered back, one hand raised in a weak threat. "Do not touch me."
A lone black curl fell over his forehead as he turned to the wardrobe, placing his discarded cape within. She spied a hint of markings on his back—pale with age—and couldn’t help butmove closer, curious as she remembered her visions—where Enora’s fingers had traced over the whipping marks as he’d moved inside her.
He caught her watching and sharply jerked a dark blouse from within the wardrobe and yanked it over his head, fingers trembling as he laced the front.
"Curiosity, conquered Princess, will be your damned death. Do not try to ask me anything else, I will not answer. My vessel is far below, unable to help you now."
Her lips moved without thinking, perhaps to stave him off. He clasped the large white cape at his throat, then turned to her with the long, silken gown in his hands. She would not let him undress her.
"I already know what the marks are from. Your father." Luella had never heard Enora or Caliban speak of the marks or where they had come from, but she remembered how he’d spoken of his father so rarely, with such warped, hesitant fear. It was not hard to deduce—especially after Vale had shared with her how terrible a male his father and grandfather had been—that the marks had come at the behest of their shared father.
His knuckles grew white around the bunched-up silk of the gown. "How do you know that?"
"I-I just—I assumed that?—"
He stormed forward, hooking his finger beneath the collar at her throat, forcing the back of it to dig into the base of her skull. He dragged her close to him, until her bare toes brushed his boots.
"Do not assume anything. You know nothing." Black eyes searched hers. "If I did not know any better, I would think there is something you are not telling me."
Luella tried to keep her expression contained. "There is nothing. As you said, I know… nothing." Her voice was small, trembling.
But the mad part of her perked its head up, wanting to disrupt him, make it known she was not as stupid as he assumed.
The bond sickness broke her, the collar caged her, but her soul would not succumb to any of it.
