Page 118 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)
YOU NEVER WALK ALONE
VALE
T he storm was growing closer, and Vale was no closer to figuring out how they could manage the final night of celebrations, when Luella could barely walk for longer than it took him to take a breath.
Her white hair was damp, freshly cleaned of blood as she lay, face down, on his bed. A thin sheet was pulled over the curve of her soft hips and thighs as Tharen knelt over her, changing her wet bandages.
The feathers on her wings were damp, water dripping and soaking his sheets. Waves of soft pain thrummed down their bond as Tharen unraveled the bandages.
Smoke curled as Vale watched with jealousy. The mage was practically straddling her hips as he worked, his hands intimately caressing the dips of her waist.
Vale pinched the bridge of his nose.
She’s safe, she’s safe, he chanted, warning both himself and his dragon.
His dragon was calm, watching and waiting for the moment he might be needed, with whispers of smug pride rumbling through his scaled chest, understanding that what Luella needed most right now was Vale. Stability.
In this state, she wouldn’t do well being carried off to his den.
Color had returned to her cheeks, a soft rosy glow after her warm bath.
But based on the way the demon kept smiling to himself, and she kept turning her head on the pillow to stare at him where he sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, Vale assumed the flush was from more than just her body healing and adapting to her wings.
"Be still," Tharen warned, palm flattening against her lower back as he finished wrapping fresh bandages around her waist. She gasped as he tightened it, fingers curling in the sheets.
Thunder cracked overhead, making Vale’s nostrils flare with tension.
Bastian parted the curtains. "It’s getting worse."
"I know," Vale gritted out. "Luella, you have to stop it. We cannot afford another storm. Rein it in." With each word, he strode nearer to her, a shadow cast over her as he loomed by the bed.
Tharen looked up at him. "You’re blocking the candlelight. Move."
Vale did not move. The bed dipped as he sat by her side, fingers spanning out on the sheets, so close to touching her, but not quite.
Luella’s cheek was endearingly pressed into the pillow. "I do not have any control over it… I-I cannot stop it." Her lashes brushed her brow as she blinked up at him.
Vale stared at his fingers, near the edges of the sheet that was folded over her lower half. Just a little closer… "You have more control than you think you do."
Bastian moved away from the curtains, falling heavily into a chair by the bedside, next to Graves. The vampire slumped, while Graves sat perched on the edge of the seat, poised to jump up at any moment.
"More control than you did before," Tharen commented.
"What do you mean?" she asked softly.
"The wings were hidden with a glamor, just like the one that hid your true appearance before.
It unlocked something else inside you." As Tharen spoke, he dipped his fingers into a tin, gently wiping a clear salve over the back of her neck, fingers digging into her skin.
"You feel more —more calm, more stable."
Luella let out a sleepy moan, her wings fluttering. "Another g-glamor?"
Tharen hummed.
"There will be no hiding your wings anymore," said Vale. There couldn’t be. She was weak. Another glamor—if Tharen could even replicate it—could kill her.
"If the only way out of this is through it, then we have to come to a decision," Bastian interjected.
A low growl filled the room. Azgorath—who had previously been resting his chin in his hand, watching her—seethed, "You still want her to go to the ball? She can’t walk. She is in pain ." He stretched his arm out, gripping Luella’s ankle with a possessive hold.
"I know that, demon," Vale hissed with equal vitriol.
Tharen still had not moved from where he sat on the back of her thighs, brushing her drying white hair away from her neck as his thumbs worked the salve into her skin. "She made it back from the bathing chambers just fine."
"I was holding onto her," Azgorath growled.
"So," Graves said lowly, "we won’t let her go."
Vale turned to look at him, eyes narrowing as the male fiddled with the purple stone of his amulet.
It was a war of words, filled with male pride, all while Luella remained quiet. If not for the occasional hitching of her breath, Vale would assume she was asleep—but she was listening intently, by the way her head kept shifting on the pillow, searching out whoever was speaking.
Look at her, thinking she can get the upper hand, Vale thought, his dragon huffing out smoke.
They were getting nowhere with talking.
"What about a masquerade?"
Everyone turned to Azgorath.
Even Luella cracked open an eyelid, pain-tinged blue softening as she looked at the demon.
Vale’s heart twinged.
Ours.
The demon was staring at the wall. "If everyone pretends, then no one will know that…" Azgorath broke off, shaking his head. "Forget it. It’s a stupid thought."
"No." Bastian sat up. "It actually isn’t. We could hold a masquerade. Have everyone don a costume. No one would realize that her wings are real." The red in his eyes flashed as he spoke .
Tharen fiddled with the ends of Luella’s now-dry hair. "Look at you, beast. Using your brain." But his words lacked their usual fire.
"A masquerade?" Vale mused. "It could work, but what would the theme be?"
"Pompous purity?" Tharen supplied.
"Bastian," Vale prompted. This was the vampire’s domain. He loved planning and parties.
Bastian stood, pacing as he thought. Finally, he said, "Fallen Above. Courtiers can arrive dressed with angel wings or the wings of the fallen."
At the words, Vale looked to Graves. The male was quiet, of course, fingers gripping the chain of his amulet.
How was he taking all of this?
Vale worried for him, even more so ever since Luella…
No. Graves would be okay.
The King stared at the white, languidly resting wings on his Vincire’s back.
"If we are going to do this…" He couldn’t believe he was considering it. But what choice did they have? She must go. They had done everything thus far to ensure no one would realize what she meant to them. They couldn’t afford to slip up now, not even when faced with something as monumental as this—her wings. "There will be rules."
Vale finally breached the gap between their fingers, taking her hand and gently running his thumb over her palm.
"Luella, I know you are listening. Will you look at me?
" He forced himself to pose it as a question, not wanting to use the Binding mark against her when she was in such a fragile state already.
Luella met his eyes, the shadows underneath dark with her exhaustion. He couldn’t have her ignore him—this was vital.
"You never walk alone. One of us is to be by your side at all times, keeping you steady.
No one is to come within touching distance of you—we cannot chance them discovering your wings are real.
" Or thinking they could have a taste of her.
"And you will not stay long. Show up and leave as soon as possible.
" Though Vale was looking at her, he spoke to them all.
"The Chosen is allowed to lie with whomever she chooses now. The court will be salivating for a taste of the King’s favored.
We can use this as an excuse for your early departure. "
Luella’s fingers curled into the sheet by her head. "I will n-not go with anyone."
Vale pressed his thumb over the inside of her wrist, feeling her pulse. "You will not have to. Only us. Only ever us." A hiss laced his words. "We will merely make them think so."
Under his thumb, her heartbeat thundered against the delicate skin of her wrist. "Say you understand," Vale demanded.
"I understand," Luella hiccuped.
He pulled away from her and stood. But wished he could lie beside her and watch as she slept.
"Good. Bastian, we can trust Ina and Osa.
Have them prepare a mask and gown and come to my room to get Luella ready.
Graves, with me." To temper his dragon, Vale allowed himself a lingering look at Luella; Tharen was still sitting on her thighs, with Azgorath now lying on the edge of the bed, hand clasped with hers.
"Rest," Vale said to her. "They will make sure you are awake in time to prepare. "
Alone in the hall, Vale stopped Graves with a hand on his shoulder, voice quiet as he murmured, "I know this is hard…"
Graves tugged on his amulet. "At least I can be free for a night."