Page 25 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

YOUR HEART IS GLASS (AND YOUR HEART IS STONE)

VALE

V ale’s feet tracked invisible pathways over the marble floors.

One step. One thought.

A swirl of feeling. A swirl of snow.

And at the center of it all, the little heirus Princess who held his heart in her soft fingers.

She was resting. She had rested for the whole day. Leaving Vale to stew in everything he had done.

But he would do it again if it meant he could possess her.

We would do worse, hissed the dragon.

Vale pinched the bridge of his nose, his steps faltering. He had nearly forgotten about the beast, but that would not do. His dragon was like a troublesome child on the best of days—hated the thought of being ignored.

Vale braced his hands on the foggy glass, staring out at the pure white.

Snow dotted the lands for as far as the eye could see, icicles hanging from the eaves and dripping from the tree branches in the gardens below his window.

The sky was covered in a thick blanket of white clouds, and even a hot-blooded dragon shifter such as he felt the nip of the air. Unnatural.

His attention drifted to the closed door leading to where Luella rested.

Very unnatural .

I could warm her. Steal her away.

Shut the fuck up! Vale’s hands lifted from the glass, and he just barely stopped himself from slamming his palms down and shattering it.

Take her somewhere warm and safe.

Vale gritted his teeth. His dragon was preoccupied with the idea of stealing the captive Princess away and taking her to his den.

Safe and warm and dark and ? —

And the weather made it even worse. All the dragon wanted to do was get her somewhere small and warm her up with their shared breaths as he buried himself between her soft thighs.

While Vale could think of nothing he wanted less.

Liar.

His eyes narrowed.

Enough of this.

Vale turned from the window, from the wintry scape that had gripped his kingdom with utter ferocity. The twisted call in his soul crackled like shards of ice. He followed that call, finding it leading him to a door at the far side of the room.

His hand braced on the knob. He took a breath.

He knew what lay on the other side.

The King opened the door.

It was dark, and the amber flame from the candles lit the space with the softest of warmth; he could close his eyes and pretend it was the safe, warm, dark place his dragon so desperately desired to whisk her off to.

The Princess lay curled on his bed, a thick blanket pulled up to her chin. Her white hair was in disarray around her head, framing her pale features like a perfect halo. He took a step further into the room. Her nose scrunched, but she settled back into whatever dreams held her captive.

It was time for the first true night of the Winter Solstice.

Tradition demanded she attend to him, be his personal servant. Usually, Vale never cared much for tradition, but just this once, he found himself looking forward to having her at his beck and call.

The air in the room was still, and he hated to disrupt it, but as he walked toward her fully and loomed over her sleeping form, he could imagine how the soft, innocent look on her face would soon be shattered by his mere presence.

Vale leaned down and brushed a strand of her white hair away from her face. Her skin was soft under his fingertips. He traced his pointer finger over the curve of her cheekbone. Like silk. He crouched down by her side, content to watch.

The call was loud in his chest. He cupped her cheek; her eyelids fluttered, her brow scrunching as her limbs twitched.

Vale saw the exact moment she grew to be aware of him.

Luella sleepily clutched the blanket to her body. Her face screwed up in muted pain as the action pulled the healing tattoo on her chest.

Vale sat on the edge of the bed, resting his arms on his knees. The golden flames in the room made her skin appear warm and rosy, not at all like the cold, untouched paleness it had taken on.

Wind rattled the glass.

She braced a hand under her, a sharp puff of air leaving her lips. "What are you doing?"

"Isn’t it obvious?" Vale’s voice was a whisper, as though he was afraid to disrupt the lazy quiet. "I’m waking you up."

"You didn’t have to be so… you about it," she commented softly, throwing her legs over the side of the bed and scooting to the edge—far away from him.

"So me ?"

Luella stood, wrapping the blanket around her slim shoulders. " You . You know? Brooding and…" She trailed off.

Vale stood, as well, hovering by her side.

She turned her head. The pure white from outside filtered in through the cracks of the dark drapes, making her appear snow-touched.

Her hair was rumpled with sleep. Her lips were swollen, and cheeks slightly puffy.

He felt the twisted thing in his chest jerk, and he had to dig his heels into the ground to stop himself from stealing her away.

"How do you feel?" Vale inquired.

Her steps wobbled, and he reached out a hand to help, but she shrugged him off.

"My chest hurts." Luella walked to the windows and pulled back the curtains, revealing the evening light, barely touched by the fall of the sun, from how pristine the snow was. It could very well be midday. "And I’m angry." This was said low, but his keen ears caught it.

"Good. You should be."

At that, Luella turned. Her side profile was aglow, and the snow outside picked up into a swirl of white.

"We’re not done yet. It is only the beginning," Vale said as he stepped toward her.

"It is tradition for the Chosen to attend to the King.

" He took another step forward; she took a step back.

"You will stay by my side for the duration of the Solstice.

" He was standing right before her now, and she could take no more steps away from him—he had her cornered.

Vale leaned down and put his face right by hers.

Her skin radiated the cold, and he breathed in chilled strawberries as he said, "And you will see to me as a servant would. "

"What does that mean?" In her wariness, her small hands fumbled against the blanket, causing the edge to slip away from her shoulder.

"It means, Princess Luella, that you are mine." Vale pulled away and relished in the frazzled sight of her.

Pebbles of hard ice pelted against the windows, and he smirked. She truly hadn’t realized it yet. He hated to see the day she understood how much power she truly held…

To be ours, she must be powerful. We don’t deal with weak.

For once, Vale agreed with his dragon.

"Follow me."

Vale led Luella to his bathing chambers, a dimly lit, atmospheric room with a large pool of heated water sitting directly in the center. Steam curled from the water, and the room was pleasantly warm, especially compared to the unnatural frigidness that had befallen the castle.

The stone floor warmed his bare feet, and he couldn’t wait to disrobe and fall into the water’s embrace .

Warm, small, and safe; his dragon was almost tricked, lulled into a soft quiet as he grew contented to watch from his cage.

Vale breathed deeply.

Luella’s natural scent seeped into everything. More intoxicating than the strongest of oils.

She stood at the edge of the room with a quivering bottom lip as she watched him.

"You’re so tense," Vale commented. "I won’t harm you. Why would I go to the trouble of a ceremony just to drown you in a bath?"

The question was rhetorical, but she still responded with a quiet, "I don’t begin to understand the way your sick mind works."

His dragon grew amused, long onyx tail snapping back and forth with glee.

Vale strode to the large mirror inlaid against the stone wall.

His golden hair was in the slightest of disarray, like even it feared to anger him with anything less than perfection.

Green eyes glinted, and he swept his sights to the spot behind him, where the Princess stood in his periphery in a haunting image.

She was utterly bewitching.

And he was utterly fucked.

Like the shiny jewels his dragon hoarded, he wanted to take her, lock her up, and only bring her out when he wanted something captivating to look at…

She would be pleasing draped in rubies, the dragon remarked.

"Come closer," Vale called.

She obeyed—because of the Binding mark or because she simply wanted to, he would never know. Her feet softly padded on the stone.

His next inhale granted him the sweet fragrance of rich berries mingling with decadent, thick cream.

So, so fucked.

Without breaking his stare in the mirror, he grabbed her wrist. She let out a sound of protest, but her limbs were malleable. She wanted to be handled. She was begging for direction.

Vale moved her to stand in front of him, and his chest pressed flush to her back. He skimmed his hands up her sides, relishing in the slight tremble to her limbs. Those barbed words, yet she remained a fearful little thing.

He clutched her small waist as he pulled her closer to him, and he grabbed her chin, forcing her head up to the mirror.

"Look at you," Vale whispered in her ear as he watched their reflection. Gold and white. Sun and moon. He ghosted a finger over a pure white strand, entranced. "Like moonlight. Your hair is opal, and your eyes are sapphire."

Blame his dragon for all the jewel talks…

Vale tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, and her eyes followed the movement. He pressed his palm right over her heart; through the fabric of her gown, her skin was like ice.

Slowly, he peeled away the neckline of her gown, and her Binding mark was revealed in all its twisted glory.

The skin around it was slightly red, but the bandages had been removed. What good would it do to keep the mark covered when its very purpose was to speak of his ownership of her—his claim of her?

Vale pressed his palm harder against her chest, forcing a wince from her lips.