Page 191 of A Dance of Water

The King huffed out grey smoke.

"Calm yourself, Vale," Bastian urged. He turned to her and held her shoulders. "You as well, pet. You cannot allow yourself to get workedup."

"B-but—" A sob bubbled up inside her. Chest cracking, aching. It was all growing to be too much for her to take.

It was Graves who took her, then. The leather of his gloves warmed her hands as he forced her to focus on him. "Eyes on me."

She watched the rise and fall of his chest, making her breaths match as she stared deep into his eyes, until the humming ache inside her fizzled away. Each exhale was shaky, but her power no longer clawed beneath her skin.

Their voices permeated the daze.

"We must hurry. You cannot be gone for long, Vale," Bastian warned.

Vale’s crown glinted as he turned to her. "Do you know what is in store for you tonight?"

Luella’s chin dipped with a shaky nod.

"Then you know Tharen must stay here." Vale waved a hand to the mage, who stepped away from his spot near the wall with a lecherous look in his icy eyes. "He will stay with you and Bastian. He will not be allowed to touch you."

The words did nothing to soothe her; she only grew more afraid.

Vale and Graves started for the door, but Az stayed. His shoulders were bunched up, tense—he didn’t want to go. "Lu, I’ll be in your room… after."

She swallowed. "Okay."

The door snicked shut behind the three of them, and she was alone with Bastian and Tharen.

She took in the room around her. A dark canopy concealed most of Bastian’s bed, revealing a hint of red silk. Her eyes fell on a white sheet draped over a rod in the middle of the room. Flickering candlelight cast the space in warm amber, making shadows dance across the sheet.

Her stomach clenched, a wave of nausea rising in her throat.

"Bastian," she implored. "Bastian, tell me it isn’t true. Tell me."

Regret lined his features. "It is true. Winter Solstice custom dictates the Advisor as a… teacher for the Chosen. Tonight and tomorrow, we will meet here, in my room, for your lessons. Usually done in private but"—he inclined his head to Tharen with a short, forced laugh—"as you can see, tradition is not so easily followed by him." He was trying to ease the tension in her shoulders, but it wasn’t working.

"I will… I will have to touch you?" She could barely get the words out.

"No," Bastian said emphatically. "No." He pointed to the white sheet fluttering in the middle of the room. "I will sit on one side, and you on the other. To maintain your innocence."

Tharen snorted. "What aboutyourinnocence?"

It was the first he had spoken. Luella wondered what he thought of this. "Where will y-you be?" she asked the mage, unable to meet his eyes.

"I’ll be watching." Tharen pointed to an armchair in the corner. "We don’t know how close I need to be to you, but when you feel desire, my presence might keep you from vanishing. But at least, if you do, I will be here to catch you."

Every part of her was lit with fire, crackling, and growing hotter. A tremulous exhale passed her lips, and Bastian’s reddened eyes dipped to her mouth.

Her gaze found his bedside table, dark oak stacked with many novels, one laid face-down as if to mark his place. A brass hookah rested near a few glass bottles filled with thick, red liquid—blood, she realized—the corks brushed petals of red roses that decorated a thin glass vase. The floor was marble, but many plush black rugs coated the surface. She itched to sink her bare feet into the softness.

"Go ahead," said Bastian.

She startled and looked to him, not having realized she had spaced out, taking in his room—while he and Tharen had been taking her in.

"What?" she whispered.

He nodded toward her feet, her slippers poking out of the hem of her white gown. "If it makes you feel more comfortable, pet, take it off."

She blushed, his words sounding much more sinful aloud.

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