Page 74 of A Dance of Water

"Luella," Tharen said—emotion filled his sharp voice, turning it soft with shock, interest… and fascination?

"I did that?" Luella stepped back into a broad chest, seeking safety.

Her hands searched behind her, feeling thick swaths of fabric before gloved fingers carefully interlaced with hers as if the gentle act was a secret.

The air filled with a low, droning hum. Her head cocked. It sounded like… the faintest buzz of a gateway.

Her eyes widened. "Something’s coming."

The shadows swelled, growing so dark that the faint light from the pure snow cascading in through the cracks was eaten up by them.

Thrumming filled the air.

"Get her out of here," Graves ordered urgently.

"The Umbra?" Az asked.

She heard Tharen’s sound of affirmation.

The Umbra.

She had thought they were safe. But of course not. TheTenebrae’s army had infiltrated the castle once; what was to stop it from happening again?

The memory of shadowed eyes and vile words made her eyes burn, that thing inside growing hot, large, and all-consuming.

She resisted the urge to wrap her arms around Graves for comfort. "I’m scared."

A cold hand brushed against her fingertips. "We will keep you safe," murmured Bastian.

Finally, Vale spoke. His voice no longer sounded growled with violence, but the ends of his words were strained like he was having a hard time reigning in his impulses. "Iwill take her away. You four can deal with this." Something harsh cracked. Like the snap of a bone. "I’ll be back once she’s out of the way."

The anticipatory thrum of the shadows fizzled, popped, and then erupted.

Chaos consumed the throne room.

Screams pierced the dark.

Lights flashed softly, and sparks danced along Tharen’s fingers, illuminating the harsh lines of his face.

In a kingdom of serpents and dragons, one would assumetheywould remain the apex predator—feared by all and fearful of none; though, what shesaw… led her to believe anything but.

Fear was etched onto the faces of the courtiers.

Poised to fight, Tharen loomed. Az cracked his knuckles, flames casting deep shadows over his dusky skin.

Graves’s gloved hands gripped her elbows tightly. Bastian appeared at ease—fangs flashed, and his red eyes glowed, radiating a lust for blood.

She turned her head, seeing Vale. The beginnings of a monster.

The King’s wildly regal face was etched with indomitable power. His features rippled, growing larger. The cracking of bones. A groan of strained pain. The spark of embers. And a beast was born.

Not the first time she had seen such a transformation, but it still robbed her of her voice.

Onyx scales overtook flesh, clothes tore, and the dragon grew before her very eyes. She stumbled back, Graves pulled her away, Az fitting himself in front of her.

The screams grew louder, joined by victorious cries. The sounds of battle.

More than one dragon call filled the night. But none was as fearsome as the beast before her.

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