Page 119 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

A COMMEMORATION OF INNOCENCE AND CORRUPTION

LUELLA

I t was time, and Luella could barely walk.

After sleeping for hours, Az had awoken her. Ina and Osa had been solemn as they laid out a magnificent gown and a mask for her, preparing her as best as they could.

And now, she stood awkwardly on the balls of her feet, Tharen and Az on either side, gripping her elbows to keep her steady so she wouldn’t topple backward.

Every breath made her wings tremble with pain, sending waves throughout her body.

She steeled herself against it. Cool air shivered over her back from the open cut of her dress—it was resplendent.

Any other time, Luella would have been awestruck to wear such a thing.

But now, all she could focus on was trying not to grimace with pain and the way the soft, delicate fabric rubbed over her sensitized skin.

Pools of feathery white molded to her breasts and hugged her soft curves, falling to the floor with the grace of drifting feathers.

The back was entirely open to accommodate her wings.

She still bore her bandages, but Tharen had cast a small glamor to hide their appearance.

Her wings were tucked close to her back, protecting her, and pulling her off balance with every shift in movement.

Red paint covered her chapped, bitten lips; kohl lined her tired eyes.

The white, ornate mask in Osa’s hands appeared as both an ending and a beginning. The fire-haired female held it up. "Last piece."

Osa stepped forward, wary of the demon and mage. The mask was cool on Luella’s skin. Fitted over her eyes, with white feathers arcing up by her ears delicately. Osa stepped back and gave a curt nod. At her back, Ina’s kind eyes warmed.

Both maids knew that her wings were neither fallacy nor costume—not like the black wings fixed to Tharen’s back, or the white, feathered wings that arched high behind Az, appearing strange with his demon horns. Yet the pureness fit him.

Vale had said to trust them. Ina, Luella could understand—but Osa ?

The weight of the mask felt strange on her face. Luella reached a hand up.

"Do not touch it, or you’ll mess it up," Osa warned sharply.

Ina approached with a fluffy brush dipped in burnished silver powder, which she swiped softly over Luella’s exposed collarbones, making her skin glimmer with every rise and fall of her chest.

Once done, both maids stepped back from her and packed up their things, leaving swiftly.

But not before Az could growl, "This stays between us.

If you breathe a word of it—" Az’s amber eyes fell to Luella.

Her vision was only partly obstructed by the mask, but her red lips parted as he pinned her to the spot.

"I can’t be responsible for what I do to keep her safe. "

"We understand," Osa said with clear reluctance. And they both left.

Luella was alone with Tharen and Az, and her fingers twitched at her sides, sending sparks of pain down her arms and through her back.

"What now?" Luella breathed.

Az stepped before her, his hand not leaving her arm. "Can you walk?"

She nodded and focused on putting a foot in front of the other, but only succeeded in tipping backward into Tharen, who had moved to stand protectively at her back.

Tharen caught her with a hand on her waist, careful of her wings. "Not good enough, Princess. You have to at least walk a little on your own. We can’t carry you." He almost sounded sad that they couldn’t.

She stared at the white feathers on Az’s back.

He and Tharen were both dressed simply; though, the demon was shirtless.

With billowy, white pants and the white wings behind him, he almost appeared as an angel, himself.

The mage wore a stiff-looking white shirt, black pants, and the black wings of the fallen as his costume. Fitting.

She took a step forward, then another, like a newborn babe on quivering limbs. It was hard.

When she fell forward into Az, he caught her with his hands on her elbows, and her chin brushed his bare chest, lips skimming his hot flesh. He shuddered under her.

Luella peered up at him, emboldened by her mask. "You’re beautiful, Az."

Though his skin was deeply tanned, she swore the faintest of blushes colored his cheeks and the tips of his ears at her praise.

"As are you, my angel," he said.

At her back, she felt Tharen stiffen. "If you two are done…"

A soft rustle of feathers filled the room.

Luella pulled away from the demon, staring at Graves, who stood silently by the cracked open window.

Dimming sunlight shone behind him, illuminating the utter black of his ensemble.

His silken shirt was black, with a dark corset that should have made him appear less deadly, but it didn’t.

His hood was pushed back, fixed to his shirt.

No cowl, and Luella found her eyes ensnared by his lips.

Lips that quirked into a secretive smile, tugging on the scar. "For you," the raven shifter said simply. In his gloved hands, he held a gorgeous, silver pair of heeled shoes, encrusted with jewels that shimmered like moonlight.

"For me?" Luella’s brow furrowed. She leaned heavily into Az. "How can you expect me to… walk in those?"

He stalked forward silently. She only just noticed he was without his wings. "Where are your wings?" Her own fluttered softly behind her, making her gasp from the twinges in her body.

"How can those help her?" Tharen interjected from her side.

Graves reached forward with a gloved hand, brushing his fingers over the feathers stuck to the ends of her mask. His eyes darkened, like staring into the abyss of the lightless ocean. "Balancing on your tiptoes helps your body pivot forward to accommodate for your shift in balance."

"H-how do you know that?" she inquired.

Graves knelt before her, making her gasp as the rough fabric of his gloves brushed against her bare ankle under her gown.

Another secret smile was her only answer.

He held up the hem of her white, feathered gown and carefully lifted her foot.

She stumbled, and Az and Tharen both tightened their hold on her.

Kneeling before her like this made her feel like someone worthy to be treated so reverently.

Graves gently fit her foot into the shoe.

Even through his gloves, his touch burned.

The threads sang, electricity flowing through her veins.

Once both of her feet were in the heeled shoes, he stood, hands trailing up under her gown, scorching against her calves, before the fabric of her dress bunched around her upper thighs dangerously.

His hands left her, and the feathered fabric fell back to her ankles.

The raven shifter stepped away from her, waiting. "Now walk." His voice was rough as stone.

It was awkward. She had not worn such shoes before. But one step showed how right he was. The heels forced her to balance forward, onto her tiptoes. It helped take the strain off her back. She still felt like a strong gust of wind would blow her over, but it was a start.

"Good," Graves rasped, eyes stalling on the white feathers of her wings. "Time to enter the den of snakes." He reached up and touched his amulet, and in a whirl of black feathers, the raven flew away.

Venturing to the ballroom was a painful process. The icy blue banners fluttered as she walked, Az and Tharen holding her elbows.

As they stopped outside the large double doors, revelrous sounds flowed from within.

She peered up at Az. He and the mage both had donned their masks before they had left her room—the demon with a silvery white mask, and the mage wore one of plain black that covered his eyes, blue swirls like snow etched into the edges .

"Lu, you don’t have to?—"

"Yes," Tharen cut Az off, anticipating what he would have said, "she does have to go."

Luella touched Az’s fingers on her elbow. "It’s alright." She swallowed. "You cannot protect me forever."

Az placed his palm over his bare chest, covering the small red circle of his vow. "But I vowed to you. Always. You are everything, angel. And I will honor my vow, even if it takes my life."

She didn’t want that. She wanted him to live, and wanted to live with him.

Just as Tharen placed his hand on the door to push it open, she felt a presence in her mind:

Remember your rules, pet. Do not leave our side. Do not let anyone touch you.

Bastian brushed invisible fingertips throughout her brain, making the back of her neck prickle with awareness.

You’re ours.

As if Tharen were aware of Bastian’s last warnings, the mage leaned down over her, icy eyes freezing her from behind his dark mask. "Don’t look at anyone who isn’t us in the eye. Tonight, they only want one thing."

She knew, but she asked anyway. "What?"

The mage’s breath was hot against her cheeks, and her wings fluttered with the softest of sighs.

"You."

Luella found that it wasn’t hard not to look anyone in the eye.

Her cheeks were hot from the sounds in the throne room, pleasure-filled calls and cheers and cries and whoops of jubilation.

Skin and scales flashed in her peripheral vision, but she ignored them, instead staring at the wintry blues and ice sculptures in the room.

The falling embers dusted everything with a sheen of iridescence. Welcomed like a lost, scorned lover, the blue dust quickly coated her skin, white feathers on her dress glimmering with every step. Her wings trembled. It felt like quiet snow as the embers fell upon the tips.

The final revelry of the Winter Solstice was tinged not only with blue but also filled with a sea of white and black.

Every courtier was playing pretend for the night, donning feathers of black or white, masks fitted over their eyes, and some fit over whole faces, obscuring them entirely and turning them into doll-like beings. Untouchable.