Page 107 of A Dance of Water

SILKEN STALKER

GRAVES

From the shadows of the highest parts of the dark library, a black raven perched on a towering shelf, keen blue eyes watching below, trained on the white-haired, moonlit beauty who navigated the shelves with ease.

The raven cocked his head. A familiar male strode behind her as they ventured into the deep corners filled with old secrets. And they were led by a dainty, winged creature, green leaves fluttering in her wake.

A strange trio, the raven mused.

But even stranger, the determination marked onto the moonlit beauty’s face, the way she scoured the many tomes laid open before her, hair obscuring her face as she searched their contents with ferocity. The male behind her leaned against a mossy shelf as he twirled a sharp silver blade in his fingers.

The raven’s eyes tracked the movement, arrested by the shine of the silver amid the darkness—a color contrast that was like the beauty’s hair against her dark cloak and the dark hollows of the shelves around her.

The raven watched… and watched. He so loved to watch her, following her around the halls of the castle, perched on her balcony, and even standing over her as she slept, shrouded in shadows as he loomed over her. He watched it all, obsessed with every rise and fall of her chest and the way her breaths puffed from sinful, pink lips.

With a small cry that carried up to him on the wind, nearly drowned out by the rain, the beauty raised a book in the air, biting her lip as she held it to the male by her side.

And their words made the raven let out the lowest of caws.

Time to find some silk, then.

37

THE BARGAIN

LUELLA

"Train me," Luella demanded, for not the first time.

Her words fell on unhearing ears as she trailed after Tharen, who led her out of the labyrinthine corners of the library. Nyx had disappeared after she found the book she was searching for, only after Luella promised to come back.

Rain fell steadily, echoed by the softest drips from the fountain. The air was cold and lonely; all she could smell was the mage before her, crisp snow that reminded her of fearful tears.

In the open space of the main portion of the library, Luella slammed the book on a wooden table, finger jabbing at the page, where it was opened to reveal the section she had desperately sought after—how the mages trained their young. The passage before her depicted the most common method: temporarily taking the sight of the mages so they could better connect with the elements.

"Train me," she said emphatically as she beseeched the male before her.

His moods leaned toward hot-headed and spontaneous; she prayed this would work in her favor.

Icy eyes swept over her as Tharen enunciated, "I will tell you again in case your weak ears didn’t hear the first—and second—time,no."

In a swirl of raven feathers and a peculiar flash ofwhite, Graves stepped out from behind a thin shelf. Luella jolted back, hand pressed over her thundering heart. In his hands—bare, she noted, for he did not wear his gloves—he held a delicate strip of white silk, running it through his fingers like water.

Eyes like lapis lazuli met hers, and Graves arched a dark brow as he said, "For you." But he made no move to give it to her.

"What is that?" She eyed the silk in his hands.

"I stole it from your room." Graves’s hood was pushed back, revealing the solemn expression on his face, tinged with molten heat.

"Why would you do such a thing?" she asked.

Graves brought the strip of silk up to his face and breathed deeply. "Because it smells like you." He ran the pad of his thumb over the top of it. "It’s soft like your skin." He stared pointedly at Tharen. "Another reason…" The raven shifter did not extrapolate.

Tharen’s brow rose high, and he shook his head, a white braid falling over his shoulder as he cursed, "Gods damn it all."

"Carry on," said the raven shifter, still running the silk through his long, tanned fingers.

She bit her bottom lip, less sure about her plans to talk the mage into training her with Graves here.

---