She turned to look at the Fallen. Most were ahead, leading the way, but two remained behind—one anchoring their boat, the other holding fast to the second.
She couldn’t contain the words any longer.
"You liar," Luella hissed. The words seemed to slither over the water like a serpent.
The Fallen behind Graves caught her eyes, fingers tightening on his spear.
Graves shook his head almost imperceptibly.Quiet, he mouthed.
"Is that an order from a Prince?" Her voice was low, but unable to be hidden from the males around her.
Tharen snapped his fingers, sharp as a whip. "Be quiet."
She wanted to laugh. Wanted to scream her rage into the mountains. The magic within her slammed against its cage.
Luella leaned over the edge of the boat, peering down into her reflection in the dark water. Her hood pulled far over her head, tiny white curls spilling out around her pale cheeks. Blueeyes, storm-tossed with fury. The second boat drifted close as she whispered across to Tharen, "Are you worried of what I might say?"
Tharen turned to Vale, behind him. "Order her to be silent." The words were meant as a warning; unbeknownst to the Fallen around, the King could very well demand her silence, and she would have no choice but to obey.
But Vale only held her eyes and murmured, "Leave her be."
A gloved hand fell to her shoulder, tugging her back into the safety of the boat. It rocked softly from the movements. Fingers tightened on her shoulder, making her still. Cloves and honey wrapped around her as Graves—notGraves—leaned against her back, reminding her so much of when he had forced her onto the netting.
He moved his lips until they could press against her ear, hidden by the hood of her cloak. "I swear it to you, I will explain. But not right now." His hand did not stray from her shoulder as he moved back, trapping her in place.
Their journey continued in tense silence, lightning streaking overhead.
The Fallen directed them to a small ledge of rocks, sloping upward from the water. Their black wings folded to their backs with ease as their feet touched the ground. She envied how effortless they made it appear. Her wings shivered under her cloak in yearning.
Az disembarked, the water coming up to his knees and sloshing around him as he turned to face her, hands wrapping around the boat as he tugged it to shore, where it was notched against the rocks.
She swayed, standing as Graves urged her to, Az reaching for her hand and helping her onto the rocky shore.
Her head tipped back, staring up at the towering expanse of jagged, deadly rocks, creeping upward into the clouds.
Tharen stepped beside her quickly, grabbing her shoulders and taking the side of her face, forcing her to look at him. His icy eyes were dark as his hands spanned the entire underside of her jaw. A finger brushed over the small cut on her neck. He hummed. "Shallow. Doesn’t need stitches. Does it hurt?"
"No," she said quietly, feeling her neck strain as he kept it tipped back uncomfortably.
The mage let her go, saying nothing else.
The Fallen leader inclined his head. "Just up that way, Prince Sorren. All who pass into the Isles must isolate here for a week. No communicating with outsiders. Meals will be brought to you, and there is a small bath." He waved a hand, gesturing for them to follow up a path cut into the rocks. She sighed, exhausted just from looking at it. "I’m sure Queen Samil will not be pleased to have her son living in such conditions, but you must understand." Each word the Fallen said was guarded, as if, at any moment, he expected them all to turn on him with shadowed eyes and angered bites.
"It is the way. We will not come here and disrupt it," Graves rasped.
Her Vincire crowded around her as they began to walk, keeping as close as they could with the narrow path. Before her, Az. Her fingers tightened on the demon’s as he helped her up the steep steps. Vale was close behind her, embers warming her back. Each time she stilled on the path, forcing her posture to straighten against the strain of her wings, she felt the dragon shifter as he brushed against her, so close, too close.
The steep path finally gave way to a flat, circular expanse, mountains still towering high above them, blocking the little moonlight that threatened to pierce through the clouds. Her Vincire stepped around her, shielding her.
The Fallen eyed them all curiously, the leader stepping forward and tugging a key from within a hidden pocket in histrousers. He stopped by a thick door crafted of brass, and it was at that moment, Luella noticed the rocky walls surrounding the flat expanse were broken up by divots, holding identical doors.
"Who wants to go first?" The Fallen’s voice echoed.
Az stepped in front of her, shielding her as he grumbled, and she placed a hand on his lower back. Bastian pressed into her other side, quietly reassuring her.
She was smothered under them.
"I will." Luella stepped out from between the thick press of the five males, feeling their eyes pin her to the rocky ground as she tilted her head back, letting the wind whisper over her exposed face as she repeated, "I will go first."
