Page 200 of A Dance of Water

BASTIAN

The delicate chiming of the bells made Bastian’s hair stand on end.

It was time.

Through the haze of blue shimmers and icy decor, he watched as Vale led Luella before the throne. She stood with barely a tremor as she faced the crowd of revelers. He was proud of her.

At least this night, she knew what was in store for her.

A hush befell the throne room.

That was his cue.

Bastian walked forward with grace, every step making the delicate silver rings adorning his ears tinkle like the fading chimes of the bell.

This was the second—and last—night of her pleasure lessons. At dawn, they would journey to the Temples of Aedis. Another trial. Another thing she would be forced to endure for tradition, to appease the masses… and to keep her safe, most importantly.

They never knew who was watching, who would see them treat her differently and deduce what she meant. They had more enemies than just the Tenebrae. Even if Caliban was killed and his ashes scattered across the kingdoms, Luella would still be in danger constantly—they would always have to look over their shoulder and go to great lengths to ensure her safety.

This was for her.

That was what Bastian told himself when it grew to be too much—when he felt vile for forcing her, for making her think she would be forced to give her body to another.

Bastian’s eyes dipped as he traced the curves of her frame, swathed in flowing, white silk; tiny jewels encrusted the bodice that glistened and caught the blue flicker of candlelight from the grand chandelier above. Her lips were soft and pink today, eyes lined with dark kohl that made the blue in her irises pop, glistening like the universe was contained in her eyes.

Proud and unmoved, Vale met his eyes.

Bastian let his thoughts drift to the dragon shifter.Meet me in the hallway.

So slowly that anyone who didn’t know the King well would miss it, he gave an infinitesimal dip of his chin in acknowledgment.

Time to play his part.

Bastian held out his hand, head tipped in deference as his eyes trained on the small golden clasp that kept Vale’s cloak secured. "King Vale."

"For this night, you are his," proclaimed the King.

Bastian only looked up when he felt Luella’s fingertips graze his palm. He clasped her hand, finding her eyes already trained on his.

His fangs pulsed. He had sated his bloodlust before he came, knowing that no amount of blood could slake his hunger enough to resist her. He no longer found joy in drinking straight from the source, but instead drank from pitchers and goblets, pretending the cold lip of a glass was her warm skin, giving way under his fangs.

The words came easily, had been repeated every Solstice. But this night—and the night prior—was the first time Bastian had ever truly meant it as he said, "My King, the Chosen will be safe in my care."

Luella stepped into Bastian’s side, and he pulled her away, fingers tightly clasped around her wrist.

She did not cause a scene; she did not try to plead with him through her thoughts.

Only when the flicker of blue flame and cheers and laughter grew faint, did he break character.

The halls were dim and deserted, and the hollow echo of their footsteps was the only sound as the revelry faded with every winding path they took throughout the castle.

Still, she was quiet.

Such behavior deserved a reward.

Bastian found a small alcove tucked between two thin windows and tugged her inside. The moon was obscured by dark clouds, swiftly moving across the sky, and revealing flashes of moonlight every so often. The alcove was dark and small, and her breath hitched as he backed her against the stone wall. The pale light flickered across her face, casting slivers of shadows on her pale skin and white hair.

His chest brushed against hers, and he breathed her in. Intoxicating.

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