Page 273 of A Dance of Water

Luella found that it wasn’t hard not to look anyone in the eye.

Her cheeks were hot from the sounds in the throne room, pleasure-filled calls and cheers and cries and whoops of jubilation.

Skin and scales flashed in her peripheral vision, but she ignored them, instead staring at the wintry blues and ice sculptures in the room.

The falling embers dusted everything with a sheen of iridescence. Welcomed like a lost, scorned lover, the blue dust quickly coated her skin, white feathers on her dress glimmering with every step. Herwings trembled. It felt like quiet snow as the embers fell upon the tips.

The final revelry of the Winter Solstice was tinged not only with blue but also filled with a sea of white and black.

Every courtier was playing pretend for the night, donning feathers of black or white, masks fitted over their eyes, and some fit over whole faces, obscuring them entirely and turning them into doll-like beings. Untouchable.

And on the glimmering, golden throne, sat King Vale. He wore his golden crown atop his golden hair, and a golden mask with gilded edges covered the top half of his face, green eyes slitted as they fell upon her. At his back, white wings. Pure and supple as they arched up behind him.

The King did not stand as he spoke, words only for her:

"The Chosen. Come to me." An order laced his tone, making the Binding mark on her chest flare with soft awareness.

All eyes fell to her, and a hush blanketed the room.

Luella forced her chin up, infusing steel in her weary spine, even though it made pain lance throughout her being, sending waves down the threads. Az and Tharen stiffened at her side in answer.

Vale’s nostrils flared, smoke clouding the air before him.

Luella wobbled on her heels, toes scrunching as she forced her spine straight, trying to balance her weight just so. The space between them felt insurmountable, but somehow, she had crossed it in only a few breaths. Thunder rumbled outside the confines of the castle.

Hands reached out to touch her as she passed—whispered words and propositions.

"So pretty."

"Let me taste for the night."

Vile, as the words slithered over her skin from the hissed tones of the serpents and dragons.

None were able to breach the circle of protection that the mage and demon crafted for her. Az growled, warning them away, while rings of blue fire swirled at Tharen’s free hand.

She kept her eyes trained on the King. Only?—

"Wings suit you, conquered Princess."

Luella’s steps faltered.

Tharen spoke low. "What is it?"

Her red lips parted as her eyes flicked over the crowd, scanning hungry faces and exposed skin. Some had not even stopped touching and tasting as she had entered—legs entwined, flesh dotted with sweat—watching her march to their King.

That voice.

She had heard it before.

The well of power inside her reared its head with curiosity.

But no sentient shadows flickered in the dark corners, only the normal sort. She had dreamed of the Tenebrae so often that she had imagined the sound of his voice.

She shook the thoughts away, but they clung to her like pools of ink.

"Nothing," she whispered.

Finally, she stopped before the King.

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