Page 55 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

FEEL

LUELLA

L uella felt hands on her, massaging her shoulders. She let out a weak moan at the feel, the tension leaving her body under what she assumed were Ina’s deft hands.

Her silken robe tickled her thighs as she crossed her legs.

The air smelled of lavender, permeating her room with a lazy softness.

She heard the distant ripple of water in her bathing chambers.

Perhaps her mind made it sound louder than it was, but all she could focus on was the sound of the water, the memory of being held underneath it.

When Luella had awoken at the crack of dawn after a fitful rest, Osa had tried to force her into the bath.

After Luella’s panicked breaths and near-fainting, the fire-tempered maid had relented, instead using a damp cloth on her skin, cursing all the while.

The maid had not asked any questions about her panic, nor had she said a word of the white, silken blindfold stuck to her face.

Without sight, Luella felt like she was stuck in some dream—or nightmare. Everything was happening around her.

"Take this off," Osa demanded, fingers tugging Luella to stand as she reached for the sash of her robe.

She untied it with ease, and the robe fell open.

Luella grabbed it quickly, keeping it closed with heated cheeks.

Somehow, the idea of being nude was worse without sight.

"The King instructed I dress you in something comfortable and flexible. "

A bundle of clothes was pressed into Luella’s hands. She shivered, holding them close to her chest.

She heard a sigh, then felt hesitant hands on her back—Ina’s touch, guiding her. Luella stumbled, a hand before her to keep herself from running into a wall.

Something knocked against the wall; it sounded like the light rapping of a fist. She cocked her head.

"Ina?" Luella called.

The maid softly patted her shoulder and then left.

Luella missed the gentle rapport she had built with the reticent maid, using their hands to communicate. Now, neither one of them could talk to each other—Ina, without speech, and Luella, without sight… What a pair.

The air was still. Her ears strained, but she heard nothing save a soft clatter as Osa cleaned, she assumed.

Hoping that Ina had directed her to the changing partition at the corner of her room, Luella let the robe pool to the floor. She shook out the clothes, feeling them with her hands. Thick and stretchy. She felt laces and a thick corset. Too many pieces.

"I need help," she called out.

Footsteps, and a rustle. "Give it to me," Osa demanded.

Luella jumped slightly but held the bundle of clothes out, crossing her legs and banding an arm over her chest to preserve her nudity.

The gruff maid helped her dress. Luella felt silken undergarments in her fingers. She pulled the panties up her hips and fastened the clasp of her brassiere, stifling a gasp when Osa helped her into a pair of… pants .

They were a form-fitting leather, sticking to her skin uncomfortably. Luella tugged at the waistband.

"Must I wear this?" she asked softly.

"The King demands it," Osa replied as if that were answer enough.

Blessedly, her blouse was billowy. Osa wrapped a thick but comfortable corset around her, tugging it tightly. Luella exhaled sharply, feeling the bones of the corset cut into her ribs.

She sensed Osa step back, a low hum under her breath .

"All done," Osa said. "I hope the King or anyone else does not take advantage of your state"—Luella knew the female referred to her blindness—"it would be a shame for misfortune to befall you."

"I-is that a threat?" Luella’s voice shook.

A pause.

"A warning," said the female.

The horse shifted under Luella, and she tried not to shake from the sound of the rain drowning everything out, leaving her feeling utterly isolated.

The roar of the water was deafening. Her hands fumbled with the reins, slick with water and numb from the cold. Though she wore a thick cloak over her clothes and a hood over her head, that didn’t stop her from being drenched after their ride.

Gloved hands pressed on her lower stomach, keeping her steady as the horse shifted again, jostling her and Graves both, where he was behind her.

She felt his breaths against her nape, even through the folds of her cloak—felt his heat against her back.

His scent burned her nostrils, stronger than normal. She wanted to fold herself into him.

But she was not afforded such luxuries, nor was he the male to turn to for such simpering niceties.

The threads around her soul were a sharp reminder that she was not alone. She felt each of the five males around her. If she strained her ears hard enough, she could hear the faintest hoofbeats over the roar of the rain and the rustle of the leaves in the treetops.

Luella turned her head, her hood sliding back slightly and allowing the rain to pelt her misted cheeks.

She sniffled, reaching up with a numb hand to right her hood.

But the male behind her beat her to it. Silently, Graves righted her hood for her, tugging it back over her head.

He pressed a hand against her nape and forced her head down to protect her face from the wet chill.

Her breaths were even. Her body was sore. And her mind was spinning.

They had been traveling for what felt like hours. Over the drone of the rain, it was hard to speak, so talking was limited, save for Vale or Tharen barking directions and orders of what paths to stay away from due to the muddy, waterlogged terrain.

She was not sure how they expected her to be able to focus in such severe weather, but she had no choice…

The bargain had been struck. Her promise to Tharen was written in her blood, the mark on her chest. She could not undo it.

His words lingered in her mind… Anytime you feel desire—no matter who you are with—you will appear before me.

She shuddered, Graves tightening his hold on her as the horse followed a sloping, curving trail.

His stubble scratched her cheek as he pressed his lips close to her ear and whispered, "Are you okay?"

"I am," she lied, wondering if he even heard her.

Graves hummed against her skin, making her whole body tingle. "No, you’re not, sweetheart." His name for her was something only for them, whispered in the quiet, warm space of their shared breaths, the rain drowning it out.

She moved her head against him, her lips brushing his cheek. She pulled away with a soft blush warming her rain-soaked skin, her chin dipping to her chest.

She wondered what those keen eyes saw on her face right now. She had hidden much from many, but found that she could hide nothing from him. He knew things about her she did not even know, herself.

Did he still watch her? It had been some time since she had glimpsed the raven; she found herself missing the black feathers now more than ever, knowing she would not be able to see them.

Vale’s voice cut through the roar of rain: "Up ahead!"

"Stop by the tree line. Tie your leads off there!" She heard Tharen’s answering yell.

Luella didn’t hear Az or Bastian but knew they were right by her side, could feel the short length of the threads making her aware of their location. She was more in tune with their bond without her sight, as if the threads sought to aid her vulnerability.

In her mind, they were different…

A strong golden thread tightly wrapped around her soul led to her right, where she envisioned Az, horns poking through the hood of his cloak as his large hands wrapped around his reins, the horse skittish underneath him.

The thread between her and Bastian was fragile but somehow grew stronger with every gift he left her, every gentle word and soothing touch.

The thread to the raven shifter behind her was tinged in darkness, not a bright gold, but muted.

And up ahead, where the Prima and the King led their odd procession, those threads were frayed and weak, poised to snap at a moment’s notice. She ached at the thought, her soul yearning for the blossoming of the threads.

Graves tugged back on the reins, forcing the horse to come to a stop.

His hands left her as he dismounted, and she squeezed her thighs together as the horse shifted, feeling alone and scared.

"Hop down. I’ve got you." Graves placed a hand on her thigh and banded his arm around her waist, helping her down.

She stumbled when her feet hit the ground, thighs sore, and backside achy from the long ride.

Her boots sank into mud and puddles of water, squelching and sticking when she tried to take a step.

Over the rain, she heard the others as they talked, boots thumping on the wet earth and the faint nickering of the horses.

They must have stopped somewhere under a thick cover of trees, for the air was not heavy with the fall of rain but merely damp with humidity.

She turned her face up, her hood falling back to her shoulders.

A faint drizzle hazed over her skin. The silk of her blindfold was wet when she touched it, the edges sticking to her temples uncomfortably, along with her wet hair.

Graves’s hand was still on her waist, and he led her away from the horse, steering her as he saw fit. Her steps were hesitant, and she held a hand before her, feeling the air.

The masculine voices grew louder, coming to a halt when Graves commanded her to stop.

"Luella, about your dreams," said Vale. "Tharen has had an idea."

"What idea?" she asked, terrified of what Tharen might have conjured up .

A stir in the air, a presence right before her. She flinched back into Graves’s chest.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, echoed by three crashes of lightning.

Tharen’s snowy scent drowned out the petrichor that permeated the forest air.

"An amulet," the mage announced. A hand brushed back her wet hair where it hung over her shoulders, and she shivered from his touch, senses heightened by her lack of sight.

"I’ve enchanted the stone with marks to help the wearer remember their dreams."