Page 259 of A Dance of Water

Getting into the fortified walls of the castle of Serpentis was hard enough—hiding bloodied, white wings made it nearly impossible.

Of all these godsdamned fools, only Bastian seemed to be thinking straight. So the burden of scheming fell to him.

Vale was atop his steed, with Luella curled close to his chest. She was asleep again; she had been in and out of consciousness for their entire journey to the castle.

He hoped she stayed that way. He could not have her awaken and cause chaos by inciting the protective instincts of these barbarians.

Like Bastian was any better.

His fangs pulsed with need. He had slipped away on their journey and caught a small rabbit, breaking the innocent animal’s neck before sinking his fangs into it. It helped a bit, but the blood he truly craved was out of reach. It was becoming a concerted effort to stay away from her, especially with the constant trickling of red from her slowly healing back.

Bastian’s booted feet landed on the damp forest floor as he dismounted and stared down the King. Distantly, the bustle of merchants selling wares filtered through the edges of the forest they inhabited. The city loomed just beyond the trees, but they could not enter without asolid plan.

And right now, the only idea Bastian had was to ensure Luella was not seen. Easier said than done. How was she to be paraded about court like this? The loyalty of Vale’s kingdom could only extend so far. They had sworn fealty to Vale and said nothing of her change in appearance, butthismay be too much for even the loyalest of subjects.

"We must make a plan. And fast," Bastian announced. The sodden earth muffled his footsteps as he paced. Passing by the whinnying horses, he reached up absently to chuff under their chins. Pale moonlight peeked through the thick cover of clouds, offering glimpses of strength with its glorious glow.

A golden lock of hair fell over Vale’s brow as he stared down at Luella, nestled against his chest. He spoke low. "We take the servants’ passages."

"Yes," Bastian said impatiently, "but to get there, we must enter the city. Even at night, the Solstice crowds will be thick. We’ll have an audience."

Standing sentinel beside Vale’s steed—as close as the King would allow—Azgorath dipped his chin menacingly, horns casting shadows on his cheeks. "Let them try. If they so much as look at her wrong, I’ll rip them all apart."

"I am the King. Anyone who dares question me will face my dragon." Vale steeled himself, a plan sparking behind his tired, green eyes. "We will act as if nothing has changed, as we have been doing. We’ve already gone too far by leaving the Temples early. We cannot risk doing anything else out of the ordinary."

Graves nodded once. "It is the best thing we can do for her now."

Tharen was unusually quiet. Bastian couldn’t imagine the toll it had taken to hold her through the emergence of her wings. Normally, the mage would have had a thousand crude comments to make by now, but he sat in the saddle, idly flipping a short dagger in his hands as he stared over at Luella.

Bastian clenched his jaw. Vale’s plan was reckless, steeped in the prideful fear of his title as King. But it was all they had.

Luella’s skin was paler than the moon, her breathing short and shallow. And her brief moments of wakefulness had grown sparserwith every hour that passed. Even her fae healing could not overcome such wounds.

"Bastian, ride ahead and announce our arrival. Ensure the streets are cleared so we can ride swiftly through the city. No stopping. No matter what." Vale looked pointedly at each of them as he spoke, lingering the longest on the demon with foolish tendencies. "When we arrive at the castle, head straight for the servants’ passages and take her to my room. Tharen, go to your apothecary and gather what you need for her." Vale’s hands tightened around Luella, and she whimpered slightly.

A fresh wave of sweet, strawberry-tinted blood made Bastian’s fangs throb.

The vampire tried to distract himself with thoughts of the plan. "Good, but you’re missing something, Vale. What will we do about the final ball tomorrow night? We have less than a day to come up with a plan."

Tradition demanded one final night of revelry in the palace. The Chosen would be paraded about the throne room, dangling off the King’s arm as some conquest. Only this night, would the Chosen be free to lie with whomever she wished. Usually, that resulted in a tangle of limbs and bodies in shadowed corners as everyone vied for a piece of the one chosen as sacrifice by the King, desperate for scraps.

Luella couldn’t be seen, not like this, and certainly not touched. And that’s if she was even able to heal quickly enough. Could she even stand? The vampire ran a hand through his silky black hair. They were unprepared.

Graves cut in, voice low as he tightened his gloved hands on his reins. "There’s no time for this. Whatever we decide, it does not need to happen right now."

Bastian’s eyes flashed as he blew out a sharp breath. "I hate this," he murmured.

Vale swallowed. "We will find a way." He pulled back on his reins, preparing to head off. "Bastian, ride fast to announce our arrival."

Bastian dipped his chin in acknowledgment, fitting his foot in the stirrup as he pulled his body up atop the horse. His gaze lingered on Luella’s fragile form. Pale and trembling. His throat burned. Hisfangs ached. Then, he snapped the reins and broke free of the forest, heading straight for the city and away from the only thing he craved.

The polished cobblestones jolted him with every pounding beat of his horse’s hooves. He only rode harder. Faster. The faster he cleared the way for Vale, the sooner Luella would be safe.

The winding city streets were awash in the festive blues of the Winter Solstice. The air was frigid. Each home glowed with the inviting warmth of firelight, smoke curling from chimneys.

As Bastian rode into the city center, he was forced to slow from the teeming throng of bodies. The air was thick with the cloying berry scent of Rys, heady wine flowing from taverns, and the sweet warmth of baked goods sold from street corners.

It took a moment for him to be recognized, but once he was, the crowd fell hushed. Sconces crackled on the stone walls as he led his horse deeper into the crowd. All eyes were on him.

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