Page 217 of A Dance of Water

Damp strands of golden hair stuck to Vale’s temples as he turned his head, green eyes devouring her in the dim forest light.

Her steps faltered.

This whole journey was all so she could lie with him. And every time she looked toward the King, she was reminded. She couldn’t run. Couldn’t hide.

Could only trudge forward.

She grew quiet, and through the clouds, the sun dipped. The shadows yawned. And she trembled, envisioning spindly hands reaching for her.

Wraiths were only in the Silva Noctis. She was safe here.

But the shadows grew larger, and in her memory, strangled yells and masculine pleas for her help echoed through her mind.

She gripped the amulet on her chest with a weak hand.

Only a dream.

The sun dipped so low that her eyes struggled to make out the path in front of her, forcing her to stumble more often than not. Az kept a hand on her back, never letting her go.

When the ache in her stomach and the dryness of her mouth could no longer be ignored, she projected her voice as best as she was able:

"A-are—" Her voice cut off in a croak. She swallowed with trouble and started again. "Are we going to stop for the night?"

Az inhaled sharply but did not speak.

Hooves thudded against the damp earth, and Tharen strode alongside her, peering down from atop his large, muscled steed. The mage did not wear one hint of exhaustion on his features. "Ready to give up, Princess?"

She shook her head. "I cannot see… It’s dark. I’m hungry. Will we not stop for rest until dawn?"

The mage smirked, expression filled with scorn. He was silent for a moment, his head cocked to the side, a white braid falling over his strong shoulder. He opened his mouth, and she tensed, afraid of whatever he was getting ready to say; his eyes were filled with malice.

"No rest for you." Tharen leaned down over his steed. "And no food. No water."

At the mere mention of food, her stomach grumbled. When was the last time she had eaten? She remembered meager amounts of finger food at the Solstice celebration… a sip of sweet nectar.

"What do you mean?" Luella asked.

The mage was leaning so far over the saddle, she worried he’d tip out of it. But his grip was strong on the reins, his thighs clenched, keeping him firmly rooted to the spot. Az grumbled at her side, and she shrank back into the warmth of the demon’s large body.

A large hand reached out, and Tharen’s fingers brushed the space she was just in, grazing wisps of her frizzed white hair.

"Part of a test for your worthiness," Tharen said. At the look on her face, his smirk grew wider. "What? You think just anyone can fuck the King, Princess? You’re wrong."

His words were crude. Her frozen cheeks warmed slightly.

One of the threads inside her sang. A horse chuffed as Bastian caught up to them. The vampire tugged on his reins, forcing his horse to trot ahead. His silken black hair was windswept, and water clung to the ends, glistening on his pale skin as it fell from the strands.

He was so… pretty.

His reddened eyes lit up as he met her gaze, a secretive smile on his plush lips.

Oh.

She felt Bastian inside her mind as he teased,Yes. Oh.

Luella looked away from him.

"Stop goading her, Tharen. She’s being forced to endure enough without you making it worse." Bastian didn’t look away from her as he spoke.

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