Page 155 of A Dance of Water

Fight back, Bastian urged.Before he decides to drown you again.

The cracks splintered outward from his warning, growing, growing.

"H-help," she managed.

And everything blew up around her.

The wind turned to crackling flames, licking against her skin, the heat burned. She whimpered from the scorching intensity. Caught in a maelstrom of fiery air, surging around her and Tharen both. He grabbed her side and pulled her into him; she stumbled, weak.

Her head was pounding, and Tharen yelled, filled with urgency as he worked to combat her magic.

Something dribbled from her nose and down her chin. She reached up, feeling slippery wetness lingering on her lips.

Blood.

Violent shakes swept through her body. Her heart ached as it pounded against her chest.

Oh, she was going to be sick. Truly, this time.

Bile rose in the back of her throat as magic continued to pour out of her.

But all at once, the fiery winds ceased. She was hot. Sweat beaded upon her brow, forcing her clothes to stick uncomfortably to her skin. From more than the heat of the flame, but from overexertion.

In the absence of the roaring winds of their combined powers, her breathing stood out to her—loud, worryingly so.

"She does not look well, Tharen," Vale called. "This cannot continue."

Hands held her. She felt rough fingers on her face and lips as the blood was wiped away, but it kept trickling from her nose.

"She’s bleeding. It’s too much for her." Graves’s voice pierced the fog around her.

Luella’s head thumped on a hard chest—Tharen?

"I’m f-fine." She waved them away with a weak hand.

"You’renotfine." Vale’s voice was strained.

Her stomach roiled with nausea, a constant unsettled feeling, combined with the pain and exhaustion in her body, she couldn’t stand it any longer.

"I need to sit down. Please." She was breathless. "Just… just for a moment. Then we can go a-again."

Low growls made her hair stand on end.

"No," Vale snarled.

She had to strain just to understand the simple word.

Bastian gently took her arm and led her a few paces to the side, away from the burned grass and thick, smoky air. "Okay, pet. Whatever you say," he placated.

Behind the blindfold, her eyes watered. "I really d-don’t feel right."

"I know, Luella. I know." Bastian’s hands tightened as he helped her lie down. He pressed his lips to her temple, tickling against the silken blindfold as he whispered, "I am so sorry."

Immediately, Az grabbed her and pulled her to him, pillowing her head on his lap. Cold chains brushed against her skin with every brush of his hands over her hair. His breath whooshed out strangely through the muzzle, loud and foreboding. But he could never be scary to her.

"You’re here," she mumbled dazedly.

Bastian pressed the back of his hand to her temple. "Gods, you’re burning."

---