Page 153 of A Dance of Water

She shivered from her name on his lips. What was happening to her? She was worked up and excessively aware of every little thing that drew her to them all.

Vale continued, "There is more to battle than power. It is the things no one ever sees that can turn the tide in war. Secret meetings, won loyalties. You do not need to be merely powerful, but a queen."

Her, a queen?

She couldn’t fathom it; she was an abysmal princess, let alone a queen.

Careful of her words, so very careful. "Why do you act as if you know h-him personally?"

She had almost slipped and said the name ringing in her mind, playing back in Enora’s pleading sobs:Caliban.

The King knew who she was referring to.

Smoke tinged the air between them, and she knew he was walking a thin line between control and utter destruction. Was it because of her?

There was a great pause in which her heart thundered, a beacon of her weakness.

"I know males with hearts of evil, and I know they cannot be bested with good intentions alone." Vale placed his hand on her cheek. His palm spanned over her face, and she was aware of how breakable she was, how vulnerable with her trembling limbs and sightless eyes. The rings on his fingers dug into her cheek as he tipped her head up. "It is those with villainous hearts who always win."

"And you, King Vale?" She said his title to remind both him andherself of their place. Not lovers, not allies—but captor and captive. "Are you the villain?"

She waited with bated breath for his reply.

"If that is what you deem me to be, then I will gladly be your villain, Princess Luella," Vale murmured.

All she could see was venomous green eyes, a body floating on top of a lake, and curling shadows… Enora’s silenced screams and begging words.

What if King Vale was an even greater villain than she had thought?

52

TOO FAR

LUELLA

Days passed in a blur of exhaustion. Training pushed her to her limits, but the storm inside her only grew.

She refused to let them see.

The threads that bound her to them tugged, insistent. She ignored the sick, relentless gnawing, the ache coiling deep inside her.

She could not let them see.

At night, she curled in on herself, shivering. Fever licked at her skin. She imagined green eyes, peering at her from the abyss of her blindness.

Her strength unraveled, thread by fragile thread.

She did not want them to see.

She dreamt of drowning. Not in water, but in shadows.

A thought seized her chest, sharp and cold.

What if they already saw?

"Stop, stop." She was breathless, could barely get the words out.

The rain was slow again today, falling in lazy splatters against the treetops and misting her. The chill was welcome against her overheated flesh.

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