Page 49 of A Dance of Water

16

YOUR HEART IS GLASS (AND YOUR HEART IS STONE)

VALE

Vale’s feet tracked invisible pathways over the marble floors.

One step. One thought.

A swirl of feeling. A swirl of snow.

And at the center of it all, the little heirus Princess who held his heart in her soft fingers.

Shewas resting. She had rested for the whole day. Leaving Vale to stew in everything he had done.

But he would do it again if it meant he could possess her.

We would do worse,hissed the dragon.

Vale pinched the bridge of his nose, his steps faltering. He had nearly forgotten about the beast, but that would not do. His dragon was like a troublesome child on the best of days—hated the thought of being ignored.

Vale braced his hands on the foggy glass, staring out at the pure white. Snow dotted the lands for as far as the eye could see, icicles hanging from the eaves and dripping from the tree branches in the gardens below his window. The sky was covered in a thick blanket of white clouds, and even a hot-blooded dragon shifter such as he felt the nip of the air. Unnatural.

His attention drifted to the closed door leading to where Luella rested.

Very unnatural.

I could warm her. Steal her away.

Shut the fuck up!Vale’s hands lifted from the glass, and he just barely stopped himself from slamming his palms down and shattering it.

Take her somewhere warm and safe.

Vale gritted his teeth. His dragon was preoccupied with the idea of stealing the captive Princess away and taking her to his den.

Safe and warm and dark and?—

And the weather made it even worse. All the dragon wanted to do was get her somewhere small and warm her up with their shared breaths as he buried himself between her soft thighs.

While Vale could think of nothing he wanted less.

Liar.

His eyes narrowed.

Enough of this.

Vale turned from the window, from the wintry scape that had gripped his kingdom with utter ferocity. The twisted call in his soul crackled like shards of ice. He followed that call, finding it leading him to a door at the far side of the room.

His hand braced on the knob. He took a breath.

He knew what lay on the other side.

The King opened the door.

It was dark, and the amber flame from the candles lit the space with the softest of warmth; he could close his eyes and pretend it was the safe, warm, dark place his dragon so desperately desired to whisk her off to.

The Princess lay curled on his bed, a thick blanket pulled up to her chin. Her white hair was in disarray around her head, framing her pale features like a perfect halo. He took a step further into the room. Her nose scrunched, but she settled back into whatever dreams held her captive.

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