Page 98 of A Dance of Water

Coming back to herself, she was grounded by a touch under her chin, a hand locking with the one by her head. The line of Vale’s body did not quite touch her as his hot hand gripped hers with possessive desperation. The finger under her chin forced her gaze to his.

Would he look at her with such intent in the Temples of Aedis, when she would be forced to give herself to him?

"What thoughts are behind those eyes?" murmured the King. His fingers dipped from her chin to the fastening on her cape. He unclipped it with ease and brushed the dark material from her shoulders, baring the three connected circles on her chest, a line straight down them.

She trembled as he brushed a finger over the Binding mark, voice soft as she said, "Is that a demand? Must I tell you honestly?"

"Tell me what you are thinking." A demand. The side of his lip quirked. Under his fingertips, the mark swelled threateningly if she dared to refuse him.

"I thought—" She strained against his demand… "I was thinking of the Temples of Aedis. How it would have felt between us."

At the words forced from her—words she wasn’t sure she had truly recognized, herself—shame washed over her like ocean waves. She couldn’t look at him, instead focusing on a small strip of tanned skin at the base of his throat.

The burning scent of embers worked to assuage her worries, and slowly, he pulled away from her. Bereft, she trembled in the absence of his heat, unable to meet his knowing gaze.

"Luella, look at me," ordered Vale.

She did. He extended his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, she took it, allowing him to pull her up. Now sitting, she folded her hands on her lap, nervously peeking at him out of the corner of her eye as he sat beside her.

A low table sat in front of the lounge, holding a few glasses, a stack of books, and a… a latrunculi board.

"You play?" she asked, trying to shift the topic as she reached for one of the pieces atop the board. A small horse carved out of stone; she ran her thumb over the side, feeling the smoothness of it.

"On occasion," said Vale. He took the piece from her and set it back on the board. "In the Temples of Aedis, I will not merely hold your hand, Luella, and you will not be able to act so unfeeling when you are under me. It will not be something you detest, I promise you that."

"Oh," Luella managed. She stared at the latrunculi board, lifting the piece he had just sat down and moving it a few spaces over. He regarded her with curiosity, and she sat back, waiting for him to make a move.

Slowly, the King reached for another piece, the opposing stone lighter in color than her chosen piece. He expertly moved it across the board, crossing the few empty spaces between their pieces as he overtook her.

"Your move," he urged. As she contemplated the best move, he continued… "Make no mistake, our journey will approach swiftly as soon as the period of mourning is over, and you will know just how it feels to truly be underneath me."

She lost concentration, her hand hovering over a stone piece. Always alone, it had been rare for her to find a game partner, leaving her confidence in her abilities lacking. She searched his frame, finding the smallest tap of a ringed finger on his thigh. A soft smile graced her lips as she lifted the piece and moved it toward the left. Unsure, she paused, but he gave a heavy sigh, motioning a hand for her to move one more spot over, right over his own.

Vale picked up his piece and pressed it into her hand. "You captured me." His eyes narrowed in thought before he shook his head, correcting himself… "You captured the piece."

"I prefer the first phrase," she murmured.

"Of course you would." He quickly corrected his blunder and overtook two of her pieces.

"Vale…" she started. He looked from the board to her, long fingers resting over the pieces, poised to strike and take her—again. "Why the Temples? I thought shifters were not pious."

"We have gods just as the fae. Our gods are far less constrictive, though," Vale said.

A noise of surprise escaped her. "I always thought the shifters were bound to none but themselves."

Vale hummed. "Not quite. Our worship is more of a mutual understanding than feelings of impending death if we fail to obey. We treat them as friends rather than masters."

"That sounds nice," she whispered. And it did. The many gods of the fae were nameless and old; she often felt that if she did not carry herself a certain way or think a certain way, she would be struck by lightning and charred to a crisp for her blasphemous thoughts. Her interest was piqued by the notion of such worship. "What are the names of your gods?"

Vale lifted the final piece. Their game was almost finished. He had collected all of her pieces save for one—the most important of them all. Her breath hitched as he held her eyes, waving the piece over the board as if in thought of where to move; absurd, seeing as there was a clear path to victory.

The King merely hummed, green eyes sparkling.

She blinked… Stardust streaked through the sky, tendrils of warmth playing upon her palm as if the stardust were sentient.

"There is one." His face darkened. "And another," he added.

"What other?"

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