Page 96 of A Dance of Water

Vale’s hands remained raised; the dragons let out a scorching trail of fire at his wordless command.

Awash with powerful heat, the flames warmed her, even from how far she stood. The ice around her heart and lungs thawed.

In an instant, the pyres went up in a roar of amber and gold.

Flames ate up the piles of sheet-covered bodies, smoke billowing in the sky as the putrid scent of flesh permeated the air. Ash fell upon the snow. Grey mingling with the pure white, as if a stain on its gentle innocence.

Bereft, Luella’s lips parted as she watched. She felt untethered, drifting as though she watched from a distance.

A tickle against her mind, and Bastian breathed softly into her,The time to come will test you. Whatever you feel, it is only the beginning.

The vampire’s words forced a shiver down her limbs. Serious and solemn, not at all like his usual flirty lilt.

Az seemed to sense her fear, feel her trembling against him, for he broke out of his stupor, large hand gripping hers so tightly that her bones ached.

Good.

She relished the bite of discomfort. It grounded her.

Maybe that’s why the demon was drawn to pain. To remind himself he was alive.

Trying to ignore the acrid fumes of the melting flesh and bone—so many lives and dreams and hopes, evaporating like smoke—she focused on Vale’s words.

A lingering warning that turned the mournful hush of the crowd into a foreboding disquiet…

"The Tenebrae will tremble at our feet."

Distantly, she heard the roaring crash of the ocean waves.

"Luella, you are to come back to my rooms with me," Vale demanded.

A warning pulse thrummed in her chest. Her eyes widened. "W-why?" she asked hoarsely.

Every word made her throat burn, not from the pain, but from the memory of hands around her throat and saltwater in her lungs. Due to Tharen’s potions, she had healed. Physically.

Within a day, the bruising on her neck had faded, and she could speak without feeling like glass shards were stuck in her throat.

She knew what that meant—a conversation with the King.

Even within the castle, the air remained thick with the putrid scent of burning flesh.

Mournful cries carried through the cracked balcony door, and she clenched her hands in her black gown, fearful.

"I believe you owe me a date," the King said.

Tharen, standing at Vale’s side, lifted a brow. "Oh?" the mage inquired. "What’s this about a date? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about your demon already, little lamb. I’m sure he’s wounded you would move on so quickly."

Az placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. The touch lacked its usual spark of calm. He was taut as a bowstring by her side, withdrawn and unusually forlorn.

"She will not be going anywhere with you, Vale," the demon hissed, ignoring Tharen’s taunts.

Crestfallen that he had not stood up for whatever fragile thing had bloomed between them, she stepped away from his side, his hand falling from her shoulder as he stared at the place she once was.

She knew what Vale spoke of. In exchange for Az’s release, she had made a promise… and it was time she upheld it.

Nodding, she stepped toward the King. "As you wish." Her words were soft, the edges holding a touch of brokenness.

As Vale took her hand and placed it on his elbow, she found Graves’s eyes. The raven shifter had been withdrawn, too, but it was a wonted reticence.

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