Page 44 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

LOSING CONTROL

VALE

V ale stormed down the halls of the dungeons, feet picking up into a run.

Why? his dragon hissed. Why did you let the godsdamned demon kill him?

Vale’s whole body shook as he tried to stave off the imminent shift. At least until he could get to the open air, above ground.

Go. Take what’s ours.

She is not ours! Vale roared back.

His feet pounded on the ground as the stone sloped upward. He took the stairs, winding around and around before slamming against the door. His fingers clumsily grasped the handle, and he fell into the throne room as it opened.

The marble floors were cold. Discarded blue silks lay in heaps. The bodies had been cleared away—the Umbra burned, ashes scattered in the wind; the citizens of Serpentis lay preserved in white sheets, ready for the memorial tomorrow.

But blood still stained the opulence of the room.

The air tasted of violence and death, and his dragon wanted nothing more than to rage at not being able to have their Vincire.

At being denied what he felt he was owed—to see her, tied and shivering in the Temples of Aedis.

A sacrifice to be deemed worthy by his dragon before Vale takes her pleasure.

Locked in a dark room underground, Vale would shift, letting his dragon take control while the Chosen remained tied to a post for the entirety of the night.

If she lived, he would claim her on a slab of stone. If she died… the blooming flowers would wither, damned to the cold months of winter.

What they were all so worried about with this Winter Solstice—the unpredictability of his dragon.

The Solstice could not go on, at least for the time being. And his dragon was not happy.

Mine. Mine!

Mine!

Take her.

Vale ran to the doors leading outside, trying to ignore the taunting reminders from his dragon that her room was not far.

Flakes fell softly to the ground, his feet sinking into the snow. The air no longer held the biting threat of sleet or the frigidness of unnatural winter, but pure, soft snow fell sweetly upon the lands of Serpentis.

The tops of the apple trees were coated in snow. Blue veins of thawing ice scattered amongst the red, plump fruit.

The King could not contain his dragon any longer.

He huffed, loud and irregular as his skin rippled and shifted, his beast gripping the bars of his cage with yearning.

Vale closed his eyes, diving deep into the place he rarely entered—unlocking the dragon’s cage just as the bars bent and groaned under his claw-tipped grip.

He wasn’t sure if it was by his will alone that his dragon surged forward, or if he was losing control…

Clothes tore, scales replaced his skin, and smoke filled the air as his dragon let loose a loud, mournful roar.

The leaves shook in the wake of his transformation.

His large, powerful wings carried him away as he flew from the castle. The call urged him to go back, but he did not listen.

Turbulent ocean waves roiled under him as he flew away, wings stretched wide in the snowy air. White flakes melted from the heat radiating off his body .

The air was warmer than it had been in days prior. Something was changing.

Luella was changing.

As the dragon flew through the night, droplets of water fell from the thick expanse of white clouds, mingling with the snow.