"What the fuck?" Tharen breathed. He moved to sit by her other side, braids tickling her cheek as he leaned over her, staring down at the open Compendium in her hands.
Az placed a steadying hand on her knee, breath warm against her. "What does it say?"
"Luella, read it.Now," Vale demanded. He couldn’t leave his place at the wheel, but she saw how desperately he yearned to at that moment—not one to give up control.
The Binding mark etched onto the skin above her heart—one done in blood and ink, tethering her will to the King’s—pulsed slightly, and the words were tugged from her shuddering lips.
As she spoke, she felt anger at him using his power over her. She had thought she had won against him in this, but it appeared her ability to break free from his orders had been short-lived.
"She will have power over all. Purest wings, of a winter’s snowfall. A splintered lineage, to bring together the kingdoms. She will be one over all elements, the sun, and the stars, to defeat the malevolence."
The food she had consumed churned in her belly.
Parts of the prophecy they had already known. But not all…
"Purest wings, of a winter’s snowfall?" Vale echoed.
Tharen’s hands wrapped around hers as he tugged the book from her. She was reluctant to let it go, found her fingers unwilling to unlatch from the sides. She stretched out her arms as he brought the Compendium to his face to study it.
The red streaks of her blood faded away, but the words remained. It was as though her blood had never even been there to begin with. But the scent still lingered in the air, the tang of iron mixing with salt.
Thick hunger lanced down one of the threads, tightening her throat. Bastian was in such agony. He was suffering. Because of her.
Luella found the vampire’s eyes, the shade just like blood, dark with desperation.
Her plea streamed to him like tendrils of air.How can I help?
Bastian ran his tongue over the tip of a deadly fang. She did not feel him inside her mind. He was honoring her wishes.
For what seemed like an eternity, they were both trapped in a snare crafted from their eyes.
He was the first to look away. With a twitch to his eyelid and a muscle fluttering in his jaw, Bastian exhaled deeply, leaving her wondering if her blood was even pleasing to him. Why else would he resist her so?
"We’ve never seen this part of the prophecy," Tharen said from her side.
Graves hummed, breaking his silence. "What if there is more we don’t know?"
"But what if there’s more we don’t see until it’s already come to pass?" Tharen countered. "Like her wings."
Graves locked up, staring out at the sea she was trying to ignore.
"Thinking of all the possibilities could be our demise," said Vale. "Focus on what we know: that line of the prophecy is new, we did not see it until Luella’s blood touched the pages, and it has already transpired."
"Fate… works in mysterious ways," Az mumbled, fingers tracing over her wrist, making her stolen bracelet catch the light. "We could be given just enough information to allow the prophecy to come to pass."
Bastian, voice thick with strain, not looking at her, said, "Too much and we risk disrupting everything. Not enough, and we fumble around in the dark. Information is power. We are being carefully fed enough to ensure those words are brought to life."
"The other part," she started, hating how distant her voice sounded, "about the splintered lineage. That is about…" Shecouldn’t say it. No matter how intensely she tried to gather the words, they would not break free from where she had tucked them down inside her, hidden from the light of day.
"The King and Queen of Luna. Your true parents. We knew that the King and Queen of Solis could not be your birth parents, and that was made more clear when your glamor was removed—the first one," Vale clarified. "Though, we never thought you were the Princess of Luna."
He spoke so calmly, as if this was not her life, her history, he was discussing. As if she were not fraying, cracking, shattering. She imagined herself to be a teacup, splinters in her porcelain, light shining through the cracks with brilliance. One more crack.Just one. And she would break into a thousand pieces.
The truth she had tried to ignore was growing inside her like a cyclone. The air around them swelled. The puffy white clouds overhead turned dark in an instant, casting them all in a layer of false night and thick, wintry chill.
She stared at nothing, feeling everything.
As they conversed, their voices washed over her, falling on unhearing ears. She felt their worry, flowing down the threads. It was but a distant thing to her.
