Luella’s mouth fell open the longer she watched. How could they all act as if nothing was amiss here?
Before her, Az was stiff, his horns curving above his dark curls. The Fallen hovering before him at the tip of their boat drifted back as a low grumble rippled through the demon.
"No matter. I am aware it’s… unusual. My being here. But we seek a female who has sought refuge here on the Isles. A mage and her Ignis fae lover." Graves’s low voice carried over the water, echoed by thunder, growing nearer with every breath she breathed.
The wind picked up, making her teeter forward, and she caught herself on Az’s back, letting out a low huff. The Fallen looked to her, curiosity shining in their faces.
"You have a female with you, and a… demon?" The Fallen leader narrowed his eyes, taking in how Az wrapped an arm around Luella, growling at the Fallen whose eyes lingered too long.
"They are friends, and they will be treated as such," Graves ordered, waving a hand to the other boat, where Vale, Tharen, and Bastian were unusually quiet. "As will they."
"Queen Samil does not take well to visitors, especially in times like these. We trust our own, but not without cost. To keep the Umbra out, we’ve had to implement new measures. Our healers have found a way to get slumbering Umbra to awaken." The leader made a soft motion with his hand, barely the flick of his fingers, and the Fallen surrounding them lifted their spears, just enough to set them all on edge.
Az’s arm tightened around her, and the magic locked within her beat against its bars, desperate to be let free. Wind howled, and the Fallen looked around, the whistling echo of it against the rocks foreboding.
"We must leave from here. A storm is approaching," said the Fallen leader, his spear crossed over his chest in warning.
"What is it you are not telling me?" Graves uttered lowly. "Speak."
"You must be kept secluded for one week. All of you. Alone. We have caves in the mountains to the west, far away from the rest of the Isles. It is how we keep the Umbra away. This method has worked forcenturies, and we cannot risk it." The Fallen dipped his chin in slight deference. "Not even for you, Prince Sorren."
The silence stretched on, broken by the storm roiling in the distance.
"Very well," said Graves. "We’ll go willingly."
The tension in the air seeped away, and the Fallen lowered their spears, once more.
Had they been afraid that Graves would deny their request? Were they… scared that the Umbra could be slumbering within them?
"Take the left waterway. We will escort you," the Fallen stated, wings sending water droplets splattering on her cheeks as they all formed a perfect triangle around their boats.
"Sit back down, ang—" Az broke off with a low curse. "Lu, sit back down, please." Her demon helped her to sit, and she did so without a word, shocked.
Graves was the Prince of the Fallen Isles.
Lightning crashed above. She did not move.
But the others did.
Even Az flinched softly at the loud crack as it reverberated through the rock around them.
The Fallen tipped his head back, staring at the sky. "It is the storm season here. Rainy in the winter and dry in the summer. Warm, all year long. But these winds…" He trailed off.
Luella’s breath left her raggedly, ratcheting out of her mouth and filling the air as the wind swept around them. She was so angry, tired of being deceived.
It was deadly quiet and far too solemn as they rowed onward. The Fallen instructed them to paddle while warriors surrounded the boat, herding them deeper into the snaking waterways. At last, the archway yielded, revealing the sky in its clouded, brooding glory. Wisps of air clung to the jagged mountain peaks, veiling them in night and sending chills down her spine. So close, she could almost reach out and touch.
The water rippled as the oars cut through it, Az rowing on, and Tharen, in the boat beside them, doing the same, casting heated glances her way. She swallowed, feeling the skin on herthroat catch from the shallow cut from the Fallen’s spear. She did not care of the pain. It grounded her and built up her fury.
Thunder reverberated through the mountains stretching high on either side of them, pounding against her eardrums like the beat of her heart.
The Fallen shared a tense look.
Graves was so still behind her, she wondered if he had slipped off the boat and vanished beneath the water—or if he had ever even been real to begin with.
It was that thought that gripped her, a vise around her heart tightening until she could scarcely breathe. The wind faltered as she turned her head, lifting her hood aside with a cold hand to peer behind her. Graves sat rigid, his hood pushed back, his cowl resting below his chin, and his eyes… so dark, so solemn.
He met her gaze, jaw clenching.
