"Like you are trembling?" the Tenebrae whispered, fingers tightening around his throat.
The Luna fae nodded furiously.
He snarled, letting him go and wiping his hands on his black coat, feeling the moonstone in the hem catch under his thick onyx rings. "You are weak. You are nothing. Go. Get out of my fucking sight," he demanded. "Find Princess Luella. Send scouts in all directions until she is found."
The male scurried off, leaving the Tenebrae alone, once more. But never truly alone. Not with the errant thoughts of his vessel that slipped through the bars of his cage every so often.
His Umbra would search far and wide for her, but he wanted her foundnow. He wanted her here with him. Now.
The last time he had seen Luella, she had been resplendent. He had used his shadows, slipping through them with ease as he cast his shadowed form into the throne room of the castle of Serpentis. Her wings, so white. And so real. The conquered Princess was either brave or foolish for walking among a den of serpents with wings like those, even under the guise of falsehood.
The others knew the first pieces of the prophecy, but not enough to truly understand what must be done. They didn’t have the pieces he did.
They did not know there could only be one reigning king.
"Power over all, purest wings, of a winter’s snowfall. There will be one reigning king, and four aligned hearts, with the blooming rose, who will be within death’s throes," he mumbled aloud, turning back to the window and staring out at the expanse of the mountain range. Soon she would be here, with him.
28
EYES NEVER LIE
LUELLA
All at once, the Fallen warriors bowed their heads, the tips of the spears held downward, no longer threatening.
Luella stared at Graves as he regarded the Fallen, the dark moonlight casting shadows on his tanned skin. Proud and quiet, yet a gloved hand reached for the amulet at his throat, as if for reassurance.
"Prince Sorren," the Fallen leader proclaimed, finally raising his head to stare at Graves.
Graves, who was not Graves. Graves, who was a prince,thePrince… of the Fallen. Graves, who stood behind her, could barely look her in the eye. Graves, who had lied to her.
All this time.
He hadliedto her.
Again.
Luella was uncaring of the soft sting at her neck from the shallow cut of the Fallen’s spear. She was uncaring that the Fallen still surrounded them, and that they were on a small boat, swaying over the dark waters.
In the distance, thunder rumbled. And it was that loud, ominous sound echoing off the archway of rocks that finally made Graves look to her.
His expression was guarded, mouth a thin line, and brows drawn low over his deep blue eyes. But those eyes, they never lie. Not to her. Within their depths, sorrow and apology, understanding and grim acceptance.
She locked onto his eyes, daring him to look away—hoping he was able to read her, just as easily.
Did he see her anger? Did he see her fear? Did hefeelit?
Wind echoed as it gusted through the archway, rustling the Fallen’s feathers and making her cloak billow out.
"I have," Graves declared, all while staring deeply into her eyes. "But not to stay. I am here to find someone."
One of the Fallen to her left, hovering near Vale, spoke. "You are not here to stay? Queen Samil will be angered."
"My mother is not of your concern, nor is my business here. I left for a reason, and I must see it through," Graves rasped. He spoke more eloquently than Luella had ever heard, yet his tone still held the deep rumble of one who did not speak often.
The Fallen leader inclined his head. "Forgive Pyne. He is young and speaks out of turn. He grew up with the fabled Prince Sorren as a mere tale told around fires."
Pyne, the Fallen near Vale, grew abashed, the black feathers behind him fluttering as he was reprimanded.
