Graves felt the pressing urge to follow. But he had one last thing to take care of here. "Should you know where she’ll be? Will you be tempted?"
"I will manage." Strain laced Bastian’s tone, fingers white as he gripped the bars.
Graves nodded quietly, then turned to follow after the demon and their Vincire, leaving the vampiric Advisor behind the rusted iron bars.
19
THIS IS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE
LUELLA
Soft as a cloud, Luella awoke. She peeled her sleepy lids open with great effort, blinking blearily. Dappled light shifted upon the wooden floor, catching the silver shine of something large on a cherry oak desk, glimmering metallic strips wavering in the light—almosttoobright. Her head throbbed faintly, and she let her lids fall closed against the pounding behind her eyes. Rolling onto her back, her tangled hair caught under her nape… along with something else.
Luella gasped aloud, sitting up with a start.
Her wings were still folded closely to her back, immobile—but they no longer ached. Her lips parted as she reached behind her to graze a hesitant finger over the tip, the feel of it sending shivers down her spine and making the delicate white feathers twitch. Light played over the feathers, making them sparkle in the brightness flooding the room.
She did it again. And again. Each stroke of her finger made her breath hitch and her eyes widen.
It didn’t hurt.
Was this what it was supposed to feel like? Like they had always been a part of her—a limb. One that was not forced onto her or some pretend costume… But wings. True wings. Wingsthat she could touch without bracing for pain, could accidentally lie on and not feel agony ripple down her spine.
Luella felt a drowsy, satisfied smile tug on her lips.
Her attention turned to the room she was in, finding simple white sheets pooled around her waist and tangled around her legs. It was a bed. Arealbed. Not a hammock. No wonder her body felt so rested.
She felt refreshed… for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she had no dreams, no nightmares, and had not awoken with a start to screams and chaos.
This awakening had been languid and peaceful. Long overdue.
The vestiges of sleep clung to her body, and she was reluctant to shake them away. Her limbs were almost sore from how well she had rested. A soft ache bloomed beneath her breastbone. She parted her dry lips absently as she touched the source of the ache, half-lidded eyes falling on the rest of the room.
The bed was set against the wall. Nearby, a desk held stacks of papers, rolled-up parchment, a cup of quills, and a large, gorgeous globe. White gold laced the lines of the continents and kingdoms—the shimmer she had seen when she first awoke. And the source of the light… Her eyes found a concave window set into the wall that the bed faced. Thick white curtains fluttered, barely concealing the bright gleam coming in. Slats of wood broke up the window, but beyond, she could see nothing but the glimmer of blue and white.
Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she placed her feet on the wooden floor, carefully rising. A pleasant sort of soreness filled her limbs, languid contentment making her movements slow as she stood. The weight of her wings dragged her back, and her arms swung uncertainly by her sides as a soft cry of shock fell from her lips.
She had forgotten how hard it was to walk. She felt like a newborn, stumbling her way through her very first steps.
Rising on the points of her toes, she felt some of the tension pulling her back relent, and she delicately tiptoed to the window, fear rising in her throat. The ache in her breast stirred the closer she grew to it. But she had to see this through.
The light coming through warmed her arms and exposed legs, the hem of her large shirt—she was still wearing Az’s, she noted—tickling her upper thighs. The golden sheen made her pale skin glitter as she stepped into the gleam, hands falling on the ledge of the window as she lowered onto the balls of her feet—it was tedious to walk on tiptoe like that. She could only manage for a few paces at a time.
Luella stared at her feet, unable to raise her head. Her breaths were shallow and uneven. Tumultuous emotions roiled inside her, battering against her ribcage, desperate to be let free. But she felt, for the first time since the day in the throne room, when Vale had shared that she was…
Since her storm had broken free and made the castle crumble, she felt like she had control of those feelings. Unbidden, she felt a part of her, untrained but masterful, rise against the tempest within her, shoving down those feelings and keeping their cage locked, reinforced with her will, alone.
It was strange… She did not actively will the tempest down, but it cowed against her, nevertheless.
That strength made her head raise as she looked out the window.
An endless ocean beneath a sky strewn with clouds.
The soft blue of the water was peaceful and flat, dotted with the occasional ripple of white. It stretched on and on and on. The line in the distance where the sky met the sea was indiscernible with blues and whites. Puffy white clouds filled the sky, movingswiftly. In the distance, they grew dark and large, hanging lower in thick, heavy blankets, ripe with storms. But no rain fell.
The window was closed, but she swore she could taste the air. Fresh and clean and warm, thick with brine. She focused on that, so she would not give credence to the terror welling at the sight of the vast sea.
Her face tipped up, feeling the sun warm her cheeks through the glass.
