Page 19 of A Dance of Water

"Fine," she whispered roughly, still not opening her eyes. "I’ll go see him."

Vale nodded; though, she could not see it. "Good."

He stepped toward her wardrobe, pulled a thick cloak from within, and stepped back to her, holding it out. She seemed to sense his nearness, for her eyes popped open, and a soft, surprised exhale fell from those inviting lips. He breathed in her natural scent of berries, interlaced with notes of thick, sweet cream. Combined with the oils on her skin, she was resplendent. His mouth watered. A strand of white hair fell over her shoulder, the ends frizzing slightly as it dried from the earlier wash.

He resisted the urge to smile. Different eyes, different hair, yet still that same streak of unruliness in those curls. Some things never changed.

"What…" She eyed the dark cloak.

"Get dressed," Vale commanded. "No time like the present."

8

CALL ME BY NAME

LUELLA

Breath puffed out before Luella in little white clouds.

With every step she took down the stairs, her heart grew heavier and heavier. The rain grew louder and louder—a droning roar that echoed off the stone walls.

She braced a hand on the wall, peering over the side, down into the dark pit of nothing. It felt as though it had either been a century or a day since she had last made the downward, spiraling trek.

But one thing was different this time: an invisible string tugged her forward.

A warm palm pressed against her back.

"Almost there," whispered from behind her.

King Vale’s soft words bounced off the walls and echoed back up to her, and a whimper escaped her at the rush of memories. Another day, another palm against her back as she was forced down, down into the dungeons.

She had not known what was awaiting her then, but now she did. Which was worse—the knowing or the not knowing? She felt afflicted by both—her fingernails scratched against the rough stone as she trailed her hand along the wall, walking down the stairs, and thinking of who it was that was waiting at the bottom. Butthatday, she had not known, and perhaps that had not been quite as foreboding.

Luella imagined Az, hurt and bleeding. And her steps grew quicker.

"Careful," King Vale warned from behind her. His palm rested right above the swell of her backside; his breath tickled the hair at her nape. A cool gust of air swept throughout, and she shivered—from the chill… or him.

They both grew quiet for the remainder of the trek. He seemed to sense her anticipatory hesitation, for he did not speak. Her thighs burned from the walk down the stairs, and she realized maybe she needed to get out more and exercise her muscles.

The darkened halls loomed ahead as they left the winding staircase. She found a trance-like haze settle over her as they followed the halls, the ground sloping downward with every fork in the path. She let him lead her; she could not recall the way even if she tried. Though she felt the call pulling her, she was afraid to rely on it alone, lest she find herself lost.

At one particular point, she knew they were almost there. The call pulled against her chest, and she nearly stumbled forward.

The sconces fixed to the walls were still unlit, the air grew damp with a frigid chill, and she was suddenly grateful the King had forced her to dress in a warmer cloak.

Shortly up ahead, the dark hall curved, and she stopped, the King bumping into her back. Her breaths were jagged, and it was silent before her.

But she knew who was waiting.

The scent of warm, crackling embers danced over her skin. The King pressed his lips closely to her arched ear and whispered, "I’ll be here, waiting. I think it best for him not to see me."

She nodded but barely felt herself doing so.

His hands left her back, and she was bereft without his grounding touch.

The corner hid her, but she could not linger for long.

She was angry with Az, so angry. But she would not allow anyone to hurt themselves on her behalf.

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