Page 218 of A Dance of Water

"Is Tharen… lying to me, Bastian?" Luella spoke softly, occasionally glancing at the dim ground to make sure she didn’t trip; though, she doubted she would with Az’s harsh grip on her. He’d catch her if she fell.

"You know I’ll always toy with you," Tharen taunted. "But?—"

"But," Bastian interjected, "this is the truth. The Chosen is not permitted food nor water for the journey."

Her mouth fell open, and Bastian’s gaze dipped to watch as she wet her chapped lips.

"B-but what about sleep? Or at the very least, stopping for a while? You cannot expect me to make this journey in the pitch ofnight…"

A soft caw permeated the air, and she looked up, seeing nothing but shadows and the faint impression of leaves in the treetops swaying, limbs reaching out like spindly arms high above. No trace of her watcher, but Graves was near. She felt the way the thread between them sang.

Bastian shook his head. "No sleep. We will arrive at the Temples before dawn, and you will be allowed sustenance and rest then, before…" His jaw ticked, and he looked away. "Keep up, pet. The King is anxious for our arrival."

The vampire snapped his reins lightly, urging his horse onward, toward Vale.

Luella could barely look at the dragon shifter, nerves consuming her.

Tharen shifted on the saddle, leather creaking, as he looked down at her in the dimming light. "You heard him, lamb. Just think, every step gets you closer to a nice bed." Innuendo dripped from his words.

The Prima held back on the reins, allowing her and Az to continue their trek while he took up the rear.

She felt him behind her, listening, watching—eyes scouring.

Knowing she could not eat or drink, she was intensely aware of her hunger and thirst. Her tongue was like a puff of cotton in her mouth.

"I will not let you face this alone, my angel." Az laced their fingers together, holding her steady in the shadows of the forest. "We’ll do it together."

She nodded, trying to forget the way her body was reminding her of her fragility.

They walked. And walked.

The sun disappeared entirely.

Night was upon them.

And with it, the loud stillness of nature.

Throughout it all, Az murmured soft words of encouragement to her. It reminded her so much of their time in the dungeons. Finding solace in fear.

But this time, she feared the situation she found herself in was too grave.

Despite the soft praise from her demon, her endurance frayed.

As the night wore on, they had tightened their circle around her. The King was just up ahead—the flank of his steed so close, she could reach out and brush his coat with her weak fingertips. Bastian and Tharen trotted behind, the chuffs of the horses rustling her hair from their proximity. And at her side, Az kept a firm grip on her.

Graves was nowhere to be seen. His horse was led by Vale, and the empty saddle sparked curious unease within her.

They had been alone thus far. Had run into no one.

Her ears were hypersensitive in the dark. The rumble of thunder toyed with her senses, and the rustle of wind made her shiver, every gust like monstrous breaths.

She swore—swore—she heard the faintest yells in the distance. But every time the question lingered on the tip of her tongue, Bastian would speak in her mind, distracting her.

Just your imagination, pet,he would say.

Don’t tell me you read so much you cannot tell fact from fiction,he said another time.

And each time, she allowed herself to believe his placating croons.

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