Page 99 of A Dance of Water

Vale moved across the board, finally overtaking her last piece. He owned all of her; nearly her every move had been intercepted.

A bitter moue fell upon her lips.

"I win," he murmured, sitting back and crossing a leg over his thigh.

"So you have," she said softly. "Have you ever lost?" She was talking about much more than the game.

"Only when it comes to matters different than strategy."

The softly quiet sitting room was filled with a candlelit warmth, putting her at ease as she said, "Feelings, emotions, those are different than strategy, Vale. Are those the things you speak of?" Smoke wafted from his nostrils, permeating the air between them. Heranswer was in the rigid lines of his shoulders. "Those are the most important."

In that moment, he did not seem like her captor, but a part of her would never forget that truth. Especially when he surged forward, making her jump.

Vale gripped the sides of the board and flipped it, sending the stone pieces scattering about the room. The loud clatter and sudden movement made her heart pound. He stood and pointed a finger at her as he loomed over her. "I own you. Do not test me."

"I-I am sorry," she stammered, hands fluttering to her throat. She shrank back against the cushion, head light with fear as her heart worked to keep her anxious blood roaring through her veins.

He roughly ran a hand through his hair, pacing near the windows at the side of the room. The glass let in scant sunlight now. The sky was dark—the thick, pure white blanket of snow-filled clouds overtaken by the gloomy roil of an incoming tempest.

The fall of snow had slowed in the time they’d been locked away in his sitting room. She shivered as the dark clouds drew nearer, swiftly moving through the sky. Distantly, she heard the rumble of thunder.

Vale turned toward her. The glass windows and encroaching darkness in the sky made him appear foreboding. His voice was strained as he said, "There is one thing we have not yet discussed." She knew what he would say before he even spoke. "Caliban."

He came to sit beside her once more, taking an empty glass from the table and filling it with water. He offered it to her to drink. Aware of her parchedness, she took it and sipped lightly, allowing the cool, crystalline liquid to fill her with strength.

There was the slightest bitter undertone, but she attributed it to the fact that it had been sitting in the open air for some time. The King did not drink.

"Bastian said you heard the name in your dreams?" he prodded.

She nodded, licking her lips. "It’s hard to say, exactly, but my dreams have been strange since I awoke with my p-powers…" She stumbled over the word, unable to claim the fact that she possessed power. "Whenever I wake up, I cannot remember what it was I dreamed, only flashes, feelings." She shivered and placed the glass of water down, blinking away a sudden wave of exhaustion as she rested on the cushions.

"Caliban is someone I once knew," Vale started, "but not any longer. If you say you are dreaming of him, I worry that this war may be lost before it has truly begun."

He regarded her sudden drowsy state without a drop of concern. It was then that she felt worried.

"Did you… Did you put something in the water?" she mumbled.

The room tilted to the side. Or maybe she did.

Within the space of one breath and the next, she found herself staring up at the ceiling on her back. Her words came out slow and airy as she asked, "Why?"

Vale’s face appeared above her, fading in and out as her lids fluttered. "To watch you dream."

32

DRUG ME, DREAM ME

LUELLA

Luella watched as the dark-haired male—Caliban—ran with reckless abandon through the woods. Everything was shrouded in the darkness of night, and she struggled to find him as he darted between trees. Her own pace was quick, but her breaths were even as she ran after him.

Something urged her, demanding that she follow.

His sobs echoed, and she chased after the sound.

She finally found Caliban, half-collapsed against a rock as he wailed. A large cliff stood by his side, jagged and filled with cavernous holes. The sound of his anguish was more desperate than the cry of a babe. She walked closer, standing over him. He did not see her.

The air rustled through the canopy of trees, Caliban’s cries blending with the wind. "It’s too much. Gods, it’s too much. I just want to die. Why can’t I die…"

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