Page 57 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)
ROARING WIND AND (FALLEN) TREES
GRAVES
T he demon struggled in Graves’s hold.
"Calm the fuck down," Graves said lowly.
On Azgorath’s other side, Bastian held him. The vampire was no match for the demon’s strength—none of them truly were. Graves felt sweat on his temples, locking eyes with Bastian, who was bedraggled, red eyes flashing.
"Let me go!" Azgorath roared. He didn’t even look at them, focused entirely on Luella, where she lay amid a cyclone.
Tharen stood by the Princess’s side, watching with crossed arms as she struggled. Air was forced down her throat into her lungs, and her mouth opened in a silent plea for help.
Fury made Graves see black.
His gloved hands faltered, and Azgorath easily overtook Bastian, jamming an elbow in the vampire’s stomach. Bastian curled over, pressing a hand to his gut as he wheezed.
Not a powerful blow. Graves knew the demon was capable of much more. At least he was aware enough to fucking stop himself from ripping out Bastian’s spine.
Azgorath’s feet thundered on the muddy ground.
Tharen didn’t even spare the demon a look.
Vale ordered coldly, "Stop him, Prima."
A gust of wind blew into the demon’s side, forcing him to veer toward a towering tree.
Azgorath slammed into the tree’s base, his fist hitting the trunk so harshly that a thud reverberated throughout the woods. The tree rattled all the way to the top, and the thick base groaned, roots untangling and snapping from the ground as the tree swayed.
Graves watched as the demon pulled back, lips turned in a vicious snarl. Blood caked his cracked knuckles, and a crater was in the side of the tree from the punch.
And everything fucking stopped, his heart, his thoughts—but not his voice.
Graves yelled, voice cracking under the strain. It had been so long since he had projected his voice so loudly. Words of warning tumbled from his normally quiet lips:
" Watch out! " Graves screamed.
He ran forward, uncaring that he was running straight for the tree. The wind only helped to uproot it more, gusts drifting around the base and forcing it to bend and sway.
The tree’s balance gave out. It tipped forward, a massive shadow against the ground.
Azgorath dove for Luella, wind whipping around him as Graves fell to his knees, gloved fingers stretching and reaching for her.
In his fear, the tree’s fall seemed to slow, and Graves found himself looking to the others.
Tharen and Vale were unmoving. The mage had erected a wall of wind closely around them both to keep them safe.
Bastian pounded against the wall of wind with his fists, murder in his reddened eyes—he had found himself on the wrong side of Tharen’s wind barrier.
Desperation lined the vampire’s body as he struggled to get to Luella.
The tree would crush them all, yet Graves could do nothing but look at her.
Luella whimpered on the ground, the wind tearing through her hair and clothes as her back bowed. She shook, fingers curling in the mud, and a small sound of pain escaped her—it was all Graves could hear over the chaos.
And vines erupted all around them.
Tangles of thick green vines interspersed with blooming roses broke free from the damp earth. The vines shot forward and snaked around the tree trunk, keeping it held aloft over them. Smaller vines snapped under its weight, but the strongest held firm as they kept the tree from crushing them.
The roaring wind stopped, and the deluge of rain slowed to a soft drizzle…
Leaving the forest in a blanket of silence.
His breaths ratcheted in and out of his chest, and Graves crawled on the wet ground—crawled to her .
He looked back, seeing the tree, how close it had come to killing them as he reached up to touch it, feeling the bark scratch against his gloves.
"Fuck," Graves breathed. Azgorath had draped his body over her, curling around her to protect her. Graves placed a hand on the demon’s shoulder. "Get up. Let me see her."
The demon growled but relented, carefully pulling away from her; his thick hands framed her face, and Graves yearned to touch her, too. But he held himself back.
A scuffle reached his ears.
"You bastard," Bastian seethed, "risking her so carelessly. I will drain you dry for putting her in danger." The vampire’s hands were encircled with tendrils of wind. He did not strain against the bindings; though, his fangs flashed as he stared down the Prima and the King.
Tharen sighed as if everything was an annoyance to him. "You care more about her being killed than yourself? Really, Advisor, I thought you had more self-preservation than this."
Graves’s head was filled with images of slitting the mage’s throat, pouring his blood in a cup just so Bastian would have an easy feast—for protecting her, Graves found he would give much. For trying to kill her? Graves found he would fucking take more.
But he stayed silent. He would get nowhere with talking.
Azgorath cradled Luella to his chest, murmuring softly as he brushed damp hair away from her face, fingers skimming over her blindfold. Perspiration dotted her brow, and her normally pale skin was flushed red.
Shadows were cast on the ground as Tharen and Vale loomed over them.
"The rain stopped," Vale remarked. His tone was emotionless, but after knowing the dragon shifter so long, Graves could see how on edge he was.
The dragon’s claim warred with his desire to use her. And Graves hoped his dragon would win.
"Because of her," intoned Tharen. "She redirected her powers." The mage’s eyes raked over her as he spoke, before falling to Graves. "I told you the best way was to tire her out."
Graves tightened his hand into a fist. "But not try to kill her."
"If I wanted her dead, she’d be dead." The mage flicked his fingers, and the wind around Bastian’s wrists dissipated. "Besides fucking one of us would be just as dangerous as being crushed by a tree."
Now free, Bastian stalked forward and pressed his chest into Tharen’s side. "If you ever do that again?—"
It was Vale who cut off the vampire’s threat. "And you’ll risk the dungeons. Would you truly wish to part from her for a night and leave her to us?"
Bastian ran his tongue over the point of a fang as he stepped back. His eyes found Luella, anger turning to anguish.
"We saw what we needed. She has power." The King bent and reached for Luella, but Azgorath held her away, chin dipping to present his horns as a threat. "I will take her on the journey back to the castle."
"No," the demon grumbled, curling around her protectively. "I will not give her to you after you almost let her be killed."
Vale cocked his head. "The same offer stands. Test me and find yourself back in the dungeons. Or better yet, I will not allow you to accompany us the next time we train her. Then, see who will protect her."
Me, Graves found himself thinking. I would protect her.
Vale took the sleeping Princess and held her like a babe in his arms, her limp head falling to his shoulder.
"It’s time to go," Vale said, heading for the horses.
Graves walked around the tree, still held aloft. He wondered if it would be stuck forever, or if the vines would eventually snap under the weight.
As they readied to leave, Graves gripping the reins as he set astride his steed, Vale looked to him. Luella was curled against the King’s chest, her cloak thrown over her body as she shivered. The rain was the softest drizzle, but the air held the promise of a violent storm.
"Do not forget, you helped get her to this point." Vale snapped his reins as he signaled his horse onward.
Graves didn’t flinch away from Vale’s prideful stare. Unashamed, he said, "I know."
And he wouldn’t change anything.
The bargain with Tharen was needed. The Tenebrae would not wait, not for forever. And forever was what it may have been if matters were not taken into their own hands.