Page 16 of A Dance of Water

Luella shook her head, uttering a matter-of-fact, "No."

He smiled. She was so different. He wanted to crack that hardened shell that she had woken up with. He wasn’t sure if it was a product of her newly awakened power. Or anger at all their deceit.

Tharen would have fun chipping away at the edges of her armor.

6

OCEAN OF SADNESS

LUELLA

Luella’s reflection stared back at her.

Her thighs warmed against the stool she was sitting on. Ina and Osa were both wrapped in silence as they prepared her for bed, tugging on her hair as they combed through the strands, lathering her freshly bathed body with lavender-scented oils and vanilla perfumes.

She let out a soft moan of contentment. But the sight of herself in the mirror made those warm feelings leave her adrift in an ocean of sadness.

Osa’s red hair tickled against her sharp cheekbones, the scales on her skin glittering in the warm candlelight as she tugged strands of Luella’s white hair back, running a thick-bristled brush through it and trying to tame away the frizz. Silent, meek Ina held out Luella’s arm, massaging oil onto her skin with deft and firm touches.

Luella could not help but note how pale her skin was now. She stared and stared at her face in the mirror. No more of the faintest smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, no more gentle, sun-like glow. She looked… otherworldly. With her paler than moonlight skin, free of freckles and beauty marks.

So untouchable, so enthralling. Yet she felt so ugly.

She looked away from her reflection, shifting on the stool. The nippy air of the room swept across the bare skin of her thighs from how the hem of her robe fluttered high on her legs—it was shorter, made forthe cooler seasons, but she had insisted. She had been getting so overheated lately, kicking off her mounds of blankets at night, wearing thinner gowns, and drinking cool drinks with heavy cubes of ice.

She was so scared. No longer did she feel like herself.

She met her eyes in the mirror once more, barely noticing how Ina and Osa both tiptoed around her. The fiery maid no longer gave Luella scathing looks, like she was afraid of her, and Ina’s quiet kindnesses were even quieter now—the silent, brown-haired maid gave her a thin-lipped smile as she met Luella’s blue eyes in the mirror.

And she felt her own lips stretch in a soft, tremulous answer.

Exhaustion sank throughout her bones and made her sway in the chair.

She yawned again.

Why was she so tired?

"Are you not getting enough rest?" Osa asked, focused on brushing through Luella’s hair and pointedly ignoring her eyes.

Luella hummed. "Not really."

Ina’s fingers gripped her wrist, forcing Luella to look over to her. A strand of the female’s shorter brown hair fell into her round eyes, and she tapped her finger against her lips and then gestured to the half-full teacup resting on Luella’s bedside, right near the untouched platter of chocolate bark.

The rain picked up outside, and she was grateful the doors to her balcony were closed. Even with all this strange weather, she still loved to keep the doors open so she could have unfettered access to everything she yearned for: sea breeze and petrichor and the faintest scent of rich, ripe apples that wafted from the orchards—even though it was the off-season—and the frigid air of deep winter, tinged with the faintest promise of icy snow in the weeks to come…

Ina gestured between her mouth and the cup of tea, signaling in her own way for Luella to drink.

"Yes, thank you. I will. I just, sometimes… forget. Or fall asleep before I have the chance to." In the week since she had awoke, she had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. She didn’t have the opportunity to drink herself into a somnolent, relaxed state and allow her limbs to grow heavy with a natural ease before she was nodding off. But Luella was only more tired each morning when she awoke…

Osa coughed sharply, stifling a rude comment, no doubt.

She wasn’t sure what was worse—the maid’s overt hatred of her, or this concealed version she showed in her wariness of Luella’s new appearance?

The three females in the room were jolted out of their careful evening routine by the sharp sound of knuckles rapping against the door.

Luella’s heavy head jerked up, and she tightened her fingers around her robe and pulled it tighter to her body. She crossed her legs. The long, pale expanse of her thighs and calves was gleaming with oils.

Somehow, she knew who it was before the door even opened, that call humming to life as it grew closer, the one who held the taut, breakable end pulling her, urging her to seek.