Page 179 of A Dance of Water

TO BE SO VULNERABLE

LUELLA

After a deep sleep—Luella’s second night wrapped up between her demon protector and vampiric mind thief—she had not awoken in either of their arms, but held closely to Graves’s chest. At first, she had thought him a dream, conjured by the enticing scent that stuck to his cloak, which she held close to her nose all night. But it was not a dream.

She had felt his chest under her hands, her cheek pillowed by his arm. She wondered how long he had been there, at her side.

Without a word, he had left, and she had lain in bed until Ina and Osa helped her prepare for the day.

The mourning period was over. It had been a fortnight.

Tonight, the Winter Solstice would continue.

She was awaiting the Prima’s verdict.

Had she proven herself? In his eyes, was she worthy?

She knew the answer…

So, she found herself wandering, walking among the rain like a confused phantom as her hands fumbled before her, knowing she had not proven herself.

A small part of her roared at the notion of pleasing others. She had madeherselfproud. That was enough.

On her walk to where she had hoped were the gardens, she had slipped and fallen in a slick puddle, and her gown was drenched, sticking to her body uncomfortably, much like her hair.

Rain pinged off the metal rooftop of the gazebo, and she sighed, the sound drowned out by the harsh rainfall and distant crack of thunder and lightning.

He found her in the gardens.

She did not hear his footsteps, but she felt the tug in her soul. She held her breath, knowing what was coming.

The wooden steps creaked under his heavy boots, and she turned her head toward the sound.

It was quiet; he did not speak, and neither did she.

Her hands shook as she smoothed out her drenched skirts, but with every passing moment he did not acknowledge her, she felt the tension ease from her limbs.

This was the first time she had ever felt something akin to comfort in his presence.

Finally, Tharen spoke:

"The Solstice continues tonight."

She nodded.

"You’ve had a fortnight to prove yourself worthy,Princess. Do you think you have?"

Her chin dipped toward her chest, unable to answer him.

Tharen’s boots thumped against the wood as he came to sit beside her. The bench groaned under his weight. She was utterly aware of him.

"Do you think you have?" the Prima repeated.

"To whom?" she said softly.

"Our deal stated you would prove yourself to me. No one else matters, lamb."

She swallowed. "That’s not true. If… If the six of us are Vincire, then we all matter. Especially now."

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