Page 45 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

MOURNFUL WARNING

LUELLA

T he sun cut through the thick clouds in the sky, casting thin rays of gold over the somber affair.

Luella’s hands fumbled before her as she stood, silent, a few paces behind the King.

"We are gathered here to mourn those who have lost their lives. The fallen will be remembered for their strength and resilience. The Tenebrae thought he could defeat us as we celebrate, but he doesn’t know that we are stronger when we are together…"

Luella let Vale’s words wash over her, turning to a soft drone as she stared out at the unlit pyres before them.

Snow fell from the sky, but something had changed. The flakes used to stick and freeze—but they now melted, leaving puddles of mushy white on the castle grounds.

She wore a thick cape over her dress, keeping her warm and safe. Black, for mourning. Even though this kingdom was not hers, her heart felt sorrow for the lives lost.

The crowd of dragon and serpent shifters was quiet, all clad in black. Occasional wails pierced the hush.

Wind gusted, and she shivered.

You’re doing good, pet, Bastian whispered into her mind.

I thought I told you to stop, she replied. But she secretly enjoyed the comfort—especially now. The soft, secret words made the tension in her limbs ease infinitesimally .

The vampire was at the King’s side, Vale flanked by his inner circle. Save for her and Az, who stood, symbolically, at the furthest reaches.

Her demon had withdrawn, and her heart ached. Slowly, she reached to her side and tangled her fingers with his. There was a bit of resistance, but he finally relented, allowing her to clasp his hand.

Eyes burning, she tightened her hold on him. She wasn’t sure what had changed, but ever since her near-drowning two days prior, he could barely look at her.

Embers crackled, and her blue eyes found the pyres, seeing dragons by their sides—she hadn’t even noticed their shift. A golden-scaled dragon, much smaller than Vale, tipped his head back. Fire streaked through the snowy air, followed by a roar carrying a mournful weight.

Two other dragons, both with scales of pure white, echoed the action.

The warmth of the smoke reminded her of Vale. She looked at him, watching his side profile. His golden crown was perched atop his head, and his cape trailed over melted snow.

"Those who call this kingdom their home—call me their King—I ask for your trust. And I ask for your loyalty.

Serpentis is not unfamiliar with war, but we have spent too long untouched by the horrors that have plagued our villages and allies.

As your King, I must tell you, this will not be the last attack on our lands.

War has come, and we must be ready to face it. "

The King’s words lingered in the smoke-tinged air.

Luella exhaled, flakes swirling before her from the soft puff of breath. Az’s hand was limp in hers like he was merely tolerating her touch.

"The Winter Solstice is more than a tradition. It is our right, and it is our sacrifice?—"

She scoffed inwardly. Didn’t he mean her sacrifice?

Bastian’s eyes found hers. The red in them was lighter—he had sated his thirst. She turned her head away from him, unable to stomach thoughts of how he had done so.

Snow melted on Vale’s skin and golden cloak. "But we must put the celebrations on hold. "

The crowd clamored at his decree. Soft murmurs and scathing stares were thrown toward her—as if it were her fault. She shrank back.

"Silence!" the King boomed. Quiet fell upon them. "The period of mourning must be honored to show the Tenebrae we are not like him. We are strong, and we value those who have died for a greater purpose."

Graves stood motionless, covered in the thickness of his dark cloak. Unmoving and unspeaking… was the scarred, enigmatic raven shifter unfeeling, too?

The Prima stood at the King’s side with his white hair pulled back in small braids, drawing her focus to the sharp features of his face and the thick lines of blocky tattoos peeking out from under the collar of his shirt.

She wanted to roll her eyes at the spectacle of it all. The deep well within her hummed in answer to her anger, as if urging, Make them pay.

"The Tenebrae will be defeated. Solis has been conquered by our hand.

" Suddenly, the King turned to her, and her body locked up under the weight of his serpentine stare.

Vale waved a mocking hand toward her. "We have taken their Princess captive.

She bears my mark, bound to my will. Her pleasure will ensure our lands thrive. "

Amid the melting snowy daylight, deep within the heart of enemy territory, Luella did not falter as she held the King’s stare.

But beneath her steady facade, her legs threatened to give out. Fear swept through her body like the wave that had dragged her under.

The Binding mark on her chest was blessedly hidden, but she felt it pulse with a reminder of his power over her.

This was not over yet. The Solstice would continue, and she would be forced to give her innocence to her enemy. Another thing taken.

The King turned back to the crowd of mourning shifters and raised his arms high before him.

The dragons by the pyres snapped their mouths, sharp teeth glinting as smoke filled the air. Scales glittered in the faint light of the sun that threatened to break through the clouds .

She had been robbed of sunlight for too long—it felt like a taste of the Above. She could almost imagine white-winged angels fluttering about in their realm of puffy, white clouds and floating land.

Vale’s hands remained raised; the dragons let out a scorching trail of fire at his wordless command.

Awash with powerful heat, the flames warmed her, even from how far she stood. The ice around her heart and lungs thawed.

In an instant, the pyres went up in a roar of amber and gold.

Flames ate up the piles of sheet-covered bodies, smoke billowing in the sky as the putrid scent of flesh permeated the air. Ash fell upon the snow. Grey mingling with the pure white, as if a stain on its gentle innocence.

Bereft, Luella’s lips parted as she watched. She felt untethered, drifting as though she watched from a distance.

A tickle against her mind, and Bastian breathed softly into her, The time to come will test you. Whatever you feel, it is only the beginning.

The vampire’s words forced a shiver down her limbs. Serious and solemn, not at all like his usual flirty lilt.

Az seemed to sense her fear, feel her trembling against him, for he broke out of his stupor, large hand gripping hers so tightly that her bones ached.

Good.

She relished the bite of discomfort. It grounded her.

Maybe that’s why the demon was drawn to pain. To remind himself he was alive.

Trying to ignore the acrid fumes of the melting flesh and bone—so many lives and dreams and hopes, evaporating like smoke—she focused on Vale’s words.

A lingering warning that turned the mournful hush of the crowd into a foreboding disquiet…

"The Tenebrae will tremble at our feet."

Distantly, she heard the roaring crash of the ocean waves.

"Luella, you are to come back to my rooms with me," Vale demanded.

A warning pulse thrummed in her chest. Her eyes widened. "W-why?" she asked hoarsely.

Every word made her throat burn, not from the pain, but from the memory of hands around her throat and saltwater in her lungs. Due to Tharen’s potions, she had healed. Physically.

Within a day, the bruising on her neck had faded, and she could speak without feeling like glass shards were stuck in her throat.

She knew what that meant—a conversation with the King.

Even within the castle, the air remained thick with the putrid scent of burning flesh.

Mournful cries carried through the cracked balcony door, and she clenched her hands in her black gown, fearful.

"I believe you owe me a date," the King said.

Tharen, standing at Vale’s side, lifted a brow. "Oh?" the mage inquired. "What’s this about a date? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about your demon already, little lamb. I’m sure he’s wounded you would move on so quickly."

Az placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. The touch lacked its usual spark of calm. He was taut as a bowstring by her side, withdrawn and unusually forlorn.

"She will not be going anywhere with you, Vale," the demon hissed, ignoring Tharen’s taunts.

Crestfallen that he had not stood up for whatever fragile thing had bloomed between them, she stepped away from his side, his hand falling from her shoulder as he stared at the place she once was.

She knew what Vale spoke of. In exchange for Az’s release, she had made a promise… and it was time she upheld it.

Nodding, she stepped toward the King. "As you wish." Her words were soft, the edges holding a touch of brokenness.

As Vale took her hand and placed it on his elbow, she found Graves’s eyes. The raven shifter had been withdrawn, too, but it was a wonted reticence.

Whenever she looked at him, she remembered ice cubes, flushed skin, and dark spaces. A tinge of pink stained her cheeks as she looked away .

Bastian broke the strained silence. "Are you okay with being alone with him?"

"Do not pretend you have power over me, Advisor.

There is nothing you could do, no matter which way her answer falls.

" Vale splayed his hand over her chest. Through the fabric of her gown and cape, the Binding mark pulsed under his palm.

As if to fortify his words with action, he commanded, "Come, Luella. "

The soft awareness of the mark turned to an aching beat with every moment she failed to obey. Her feet stumbled as she walked onward, features tightening with a wince. She would do anything to make it stop.

Vale gave a low, prideful laugh, leading her with her hand tucked into his elbow.

He was warm next to her, and his body was hard and strong. She found herself leaning into his side as they walked up the steps, the end of her cape trailing behind her.

At the top of the marble stairs, without turning his head, Vale called to the watchers below, "You’ll never win against me."

But she was not as willful as the King. Luella could not ignore the urge to look back. One thread was sated by Vale’s nearness, but four more yearned.

She looked down at them, standing in the middle of the foyer, expressions drawn and filled with anger.

Graves’s jewel-toned eyes seemed to glow within the folds of his cloak; the hard lines of Tharen’s jaw ticked with held-back emotion. Bastian hung his head; the promise of sunlight that filtered in through the windows caught the many jewels in his ears, making them sparkle.

Az rubbed a hand over his clothed forearm, thick fingers pressing deep as if he could rub away some haunting memory. Her brows knit together in the shape of quiet understanding. He was in pain—not just for her, but for this moment, for himself.

She didn’t want him to inflict pain upon himself again.

Her feet stalled, and Vale looked at her with curious green eyes. The Binding mark throbbed.

Watch Az , she called softly, hoping the thoughts would find their way to the vampire .

You have my word , Bastian replied.

And with that promise, she gave in to the pain of the mark and let her feet take her to the King’s rooms.

Alone.