Page 80 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)
"Just so," Merath sang.
The fire in her hands grew.
"Fine," Tharen snarled. "You’ll have your coin. Now tell me what you know."
"I’ll tell as much as I wish." She held out a hand—with out fire. "I’ll be paid now."
Graves watched as Tharen rolled his eyes and dug into the satchel at his side.
Thankfully, they had the forethought to bring gold and silver.
He pulled out a bag weighed down with coins and tossed it toward her.
Her long fingers untied the ribbon keeping it secured.
She pulled out a shiny, golden coin and rubbed her thumb over it with a pleased smirk.
"If you’re done…" Tharen narrowed his eyes.
Satisfied, Merath finally spoke: "It is not much.
Emarelia loves to keep me in the dark. But nearly two decades ago, I was taken from one of our homes in Ignis.
Bound and gagged, I had no way to tell who had captured me.
" She was not in the tavern with them, but some other time.
"It was the male who called himself the Tenebrae; though, I didn’t know it at the time.
He held me captive and used me to bargain with Emarelia.
I told her not to listen to him, but she did it anyway.
He took us to the palace in Luna. I remember the palace nursery, a babe swaddled in a blanket—a newborn, at that.
He demanded Emarelia to glamor the babe and hide her true lineage, or else he would kill me.
He wanted the babe to look as though she were a Solis fae, and so her white hair became gold, and her eyes the same… "
Her words lingered.
"The palace?" Graves questioned.
Merath was pulled from her stupor. "That is where the babe was born. He did not want to travel with her so young, afraid for her health. That is why he brought us to the palace in Luna."
The magic in Tharen’s hands faltered, then died. "What do you mean, where she was born ?"
Graves realized it just before she spoke.
"You don’t know?" Surprise laced her tone.
"Know what?" Tharen stormed forward, holding up a fist.
Merath was not cowed. "Back up, or I will not say another word."
The mage was too shocked to call forth his magic, so Graves intervened: "You mean…"
He held her fire-tinged brown eyes.
"Yes," Merath said simply. "I thought you knew." She looked between the two of them with shock. "The Princess of Solis is the Princess of Luna."
The raven flew through the night sky, feathered wings carrying him away from Medius.
Somewhere on the ground, the Prima galloped on his steed, leading Graves’s horse behind him with an attached lead .
He was too desperate to return to Serpentis. To see her. To compare the image he had in memory to the truth that rang throughout his mind like the call of a temple bell.
Desolate trails in the countryside gave way to small villages, and those gave way to bustling towns and, finally, the rain-soaked cobblestones of Serpentis.
His wings cut through the sharp rain, leading him past the castle’s outer defenses, past the stationed archers and guards lining the entryways.
Finally, he saw a balcony, a few blossoming flowers decorating it. The double glass doors were cracked open, allowing her scent to carry on the wind.
Midair, the raven shifted—black, silky feathers giving way to skin and the dark fabric of a cloak as Graves landed lightly on the balcony.
He breathed in deeply and pushed open the cracked doors, parting the fluttering curtains as he entered Luella’s room.
Her scent was everywhere, on everything.
Strawberries, ripe and coated in light, creamy sweetness.
But deeper, he found it tinged with desperate sickness.
They had been gone for two days, and the mourning period would finally see an end come tomorrow.
Had she been taken care of while they were away?
The canopy around her bed fluttered from the misted breeze that blew in from the balcony doors.
He shoved his cowl down, leaving his hood on—he felt at home in the shadows. He wondered what she would think, to wake up and see him standing by her bed, watching, as he often did.
There were two forms on either side of her. He stepped closer, careful to keep each footfall whisper quiet.
Parting the soft swaths of her canopy, she was revealed to him fully. Nestled amongst piles of silks and soft, downy pillows. But that was not what gave him pause.
The demon and Bastian were wrapped around her.
She slept soundly between them. Her head was pillowed on Azgorath’s large chest, her hand stretching out over the sheets, held by the vampire.
Graves followed the line of her arm, up the soft curve of her shoulder, taking in her pale, moon-touched skin and white hair.
How had they not seen it ?
She was the Princess of Luna.
Amber eyes narrowed as they met his. The demon pressed a finger to his lips, entreating Graves to be quiet.
Graves gritted his jaw and poked Bastian’s shoulder with a gloved finger.
He felt like his skin would tear apart if he didn’t have her.
Bastian cracked open an eye, speaking in Graves’s mind. How did it go?
Not right now, Graves sent back. Let me have her.
Bastian regarded him but eventually extricated himself from Luella.
For a brief moment, Graves stared at Bastian, hoping he had already taken the information from his mind. He wasn’t sure he would be able to say the words.
Those words, echoing all around him
Princess—
Of Luna …
Graves looked away.
He lay down by her side. She held something dark to her chest, and he cocked his head—oh. The cloak he had given her right before he had left.
She was sleeping with it.
Bastian must have said something to the demon, for he pressed a careful kiss to her crown, his horns casting long shadows in the dim light. And then, he too, pulled away from her.
Graves barely registered their departure.
He tugged his gloves off to hold her with his bare hands.
Her silky white blindfold perfectly complemented her pale skin.
The glass doors to the balcony let in the thick roar of falling rain, and the swift-moving storm clouds revealed a hint of moonlight, just enough to brush across her skin in thin strips.
Their Vincire was the Princess of Luna.