Page 253 of A Dance of Water

But then…

The stardust on her skin, a friend to give her strength.

Pain, she remembered; it followed her even now.

Since she was getting nowhere with memories, she focused on her surroundings.

Nestled against a hard chest, a frigid chill burned her nose with each inhale—Tharen. A thick, warm cloak wrapped around her, but there were shivers of air on her spine.

Her hips shifted with every swift beat of hooves against the uneven terrain. The hands around her waist tightened, the only warning she received before the horse whinnied, and a strong, masculine voice called out. She jerked, her aching back bumping against Tharen’s chest as the saddle shifted. Her body thrummed with sharp pain. The horse’s speed picked up, jumping low as she was pressed tighter against the rider. She bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood.

Just as her lids fluttered, she saw the bleary image of a face peering down at her. Icy eyes and lips thinned with worry, parting as they formed a word she couldn’t hear over the pounding in her head.

And the pain radiating from her back dragged her under, once more.

"You have to wake up, Luella."

A voice, tinged with thick emotion, rolled over her.

Fingertips brushed against her temple. She found herself leaning into the touch.

"Wake up. You need to… You need to eat. Drink." The touch on her head became too much to ignore. She felt rough fingertips brush against her closed lids. It bothered her. She wanted to go back to sleep, back to that weightless place that welcomed her, protected her from pain.

Pain. It wrapped around her body, forcing her out of the dim space between sleep and wakefulness.

Her eyelids fluttered open. Shapes were fuzzy. She blinked a few times to clear her vision.

"Fuck," spat from above her.

Trailing up, she saw the sharp line of a jaw, white hair, and strong shoulders, thick stormclouds even further above.

The sound of reins snapping propelled them onward, sending jolts of pain through her body.

She was lying half on her side, curled into Tharen’s chest. Her nose brushed a cloak, smelling of spiced honey. It was wrapped around her front, keeping her warm, as Tharen’s body worked to protect the rest of her from the cold.

"Tharen." She curled deeper into him. Why did she hurt so badly? "What… happened?" Her lids drifted shut.

"No." Tharen’s fear-tinged demand made her eyes open. Weakly, she reached up, brushing her finger against the underside of his jaw, forcing him to look down at her. "Just… keep your eyes open for me." He paused, directing his attention back to their surroundings. From the way she was curled, staring up at the sky, she couldn’t see much.

"Slow!" called from somewhere ahead.

The horse slowed, easing the flares of pain. She felt less like she would fall if she moved, so she shifted against him.

Tharen seemed to understand what she wanted, for he stayed her movements. "You need to be still. Stop it."

"But…"

He reached for the horse’s saddlebag, pulling out a small cheesecloth,before he turned his head and said, "Do you have water for her?"

"Yes."

"Graves?" she asked, weakly craning her head to search for him.

With her blurry vision, the raven shifter came into focus—without his cloak, since it was wrapped around her, but his cowl covered the lower part of his face. His deep blue eyes seared into her.

With a gloved hand, Graves passed a leather waterskin to the mage. "I’m here," he said.

"Take the reins." Tharen handed off the reins to Graves, who gathered them up, directing both his horse and theirs. With his hands now free, Tharen uncapped the waterskin and cupped the back of her head, lifting it carefully so she could drink. Pain radiated down her skull to her tailbone. "Careful," he urged, pressing it to her lips and slowly tipping it back to let her drink.

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