Page 84 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

TIED TOGETHER

VALE

I cy embers fell to the floor of the throne room.

A pleased, predatory smile tugged at the corner of Vale’s lips. Courtiers reveled, swirls of bodies basking in each other and celebrating his Chosen’s imminent arrival.

Their bond was a living, breathing thing in his chest, an incessant beat that pounded in time with the scratch of his dragon’s talons as he sought a weak point in his cage, searching for an exit. Begging to be free, to go to her, to steal her away and?—

Fuck.

Thin streams of grey smoke filtered from his nostrils as he exhaled sharply.

Let me take.

Mine, mine.

"No," Vale said aloud, voice low. He didn’t want anyone looking at him. But they were all too wrapped up in each other, in pleasure, to pay heed to the mercurial dragon King.

The jewels of his golden rings sparkled in the blue-tinted light, casting rays of silvery shadows on the walls as he tapped his fingers along the armrests of his throne.

The serpents, cut into the marble, twined around and around, up to the head of the throne, where pointed fangs and golden scales were forever frozen.

The dragon’s tail lashed back and forth. I smell her.

Vale tilted his head, searching for a hint of her.

He didn’t have to wait long.

The bond roared like the wildest of flames, an inferno of feeling.

The grand double doors opened, and there she was.

Luella faltered as she entered. Graves led her as she held onto the crook of his elbow.

Vale saw her hand tighten on Graves’s arm as he tried to pull away—a moment of weakness before she let him go.

The Knight dissolved into shadows, but not before he caught Vale’s gaze.

The cowl over his face kept him hidden, and Vale nodded, just once, in understanding. He would keep her safe.

Vale stood, posture rigid, as he walked into the midst of the room. The revelers parted with grace, momentarily broken from their haze of lust and celebration as they gave words of murmured praise and bows. The blue embers made everything seem surreal, a dream.

He wished it could be a dream. He hated having to make her believe . It was for her safety. His dragon hissed at the thought of her in danger. They would do anything to keep her safe.

She was frozen where Graves had left her, eyes filled with a mix of wonder and disgust as she took in the room.

A few paces away, Vale stopped. He swallowed hard at the sight of her, small and almost angelic.

Her gown was simple, but it highlighted her natural beauty perfectly.

A white, soft fabric that floated around her like clouds.

The neckline was just shy of indecent, hugging the soft curve of her breasts.

The sleeves were mesh, flowing down her arms and tickling her fingertips.

Two cuts were inlaid into the waist, revealing just enough of her pale skin to make him mad with desire.

No—

He was the epitome of control.

It was his dragon who roared at the sight of her.

Take her. Too much.

They don’t deserve to see.

Steal her away.

Mine, mine.

Ours…

That godsdamned word rang out louder than the rest, and Vale shoved it far down inside himself, ignoring the implications .

Luella’s wide blue eyes brimmed with emotions too numerous for him to untangle.

He noticed the exact moment she felt his presence.

Her dark red lips parted—it was not merely him, but his dragon who conjured thoughts of her on her knees, rouge smudged as her lips were wrapped around him—and her head cocked to the side, chin jutting out as those blue eyes grew charged with thick tension.

She searched for him in the crowd, and finally, her eyes rested upon him.

"Vale." Her tone was hushed, but even over the revelry of the crowd, he could identify the exact cadence.

He found himself walking forward, toward her.

Her throat bobbed with a swallow, but she didn’t move away, even as he took her elbow, his bare fingers enclosing around it as he pulled her into him.

From this close, he could make out the dark line of kohl around her eyes, black particles elongating her lashes, and the bow of her lips, outlined by rouge.

Her white hair fell in waves around her shoulders, and he flexed his fingers by his side, imagining how it would feel in his fist.

The Princess of Luna—and gods, did she ever look like it.

It should have been obvious, even before Tharen and Graves returned from Medius. The truth had been staring at them all along—her ethereal, moonlit beauty, her grace and kindness. When Graves had called for a meeting in the advisory room, Vale had not even doubted his words for a moment.

The true King and Queen of Luna were known for their privacy but also their kindness. Ostracized amongst fae, and yet, they lent their resources to any in need. Even raised by the vile King and Queen of Solis, kindness was etched into her marrow.

Both sets of her parents were dead… he wouldn’t dare tell her yet—about any of it. She was too volatile.

Too soft. Too untarnished. Vale knew his hands would leave scarlet stains on her, but that didn’t stop him from reaching out. He wanted to taint her.

"Princess Luella," Vale addressed.

His jaw clenched at the thought of what she must do tonight. Her lessons with his Advisor. Tradition. As all Chosen were pure, they must be taught how to give pleasure by the reigning King’s Advisor.

His gaze dipped to the Binding mark on her chest, Tharen’s amulet rested just above the three interconnected circles. He wanted to lay his own jewels on her skin, bathe her in glittering diamonds.

Mine, hissed the dragon.

Her eyes sparkled like jewels. She would look pretty tucked away with his hoard.

"We must dance for them, and then you may rest for the remainder of the evening." But Vale did not tell her why she would be afforded a period of rest…

The King led her to the middle of the room. The revelers gave them a wide berth, watching with fascination as he began to twirl her slowly amid the icy fall of enchanted embers.

The room was bathed in blue, and she, especially, was touched by the glow.

One hand rested lightly on his waist, the other held out by their side as he led her in a sensual dance, steps graceful as they spun.

"How do you feel? Has it been helping to share your bed?" His words made the flush on her cheeks travel down to her chest.

Blue dust clung to Luella’s kohl-lined lashes. "Y-yes. My body doesn’t hurt nearly as much, and I"—she licked her lips—"feel my power inside me… the threads, as well."

"Threads?"

He spun her out into a lazy twirl before she came back into him with equal languidness.

The air was charged with sensuality, everyone in the room knew what tonight would entail for her—everyone but her.

They would eagerly celebrate throughout the night while she was taken by the Advisor and taught how to please their King, all in preparation for what awaited her at the Temples of Aedis.

Her, lying beneath him on the altar.

The dragon huffed, and Vale swallowed down smoke.

That was what she must believe, at least—a ruse, to keep her safe.

The tips of Luella’s lashes brushed her brows as she peered up at him. "They’re like little strings inside me. Five of them. "

Her breath hitched as he dipped her. When she rose, he held her still in the middle of the swirling bodies.

"Come with me," Vale muttered, leading her away into a dark alcove. He ignored the jeers and whistles as they retreated, but her fingers gripped his elbow so hard her knuckles were white. He parted the dark blue curtain, inclining his head for her to step inside.

The curtains fell with a soft whoosh. Intimate shadows blanketed the space. Her heart was beating so loudly it was all he could focus on—his dragon loved the sound, a reminder she was alive. That she was here. That she was his.

Ours.

The pillows dipped under him as he sat. He pointed to the cushions beside him in a silent demand. Her eyes narrowed, but she obeyed, fingers gripping the seat under her as she perched on the edge.

Blue flames from the candles danced over her skin.

"Those aren’t threads, darling," Vale murmured. "You feel us." His lips skimmed her jaw. She tensed. "You feel me ." Mouth pressed against her ear, he whispered, "Our bond."

Smells so good.

Need to taste.

"You mean the Vin?—"

Vale pressed a finger to her lips to stifle the word. If anyone were to find out they were Vincire, she would be in grave danger—more than she already was.

Her lips were soft, and he couldn’t quite stop himself from rubbing his finger back and forth over the seam, feeling her breaths.

Soft. Mine.

Softer than all our furs, shinier than all our jewels.

That thought… Vale was not sure if it was his or his dragons.

Heat curled low in his stomach.

"Do not speak of that here." Vale’s eyes fell to her amulet, the inviting swell of her breasts. He reached for the stone, fingers grazing her flesh. She shivered. "Do not think I have forgotten about your dreams."

"How could I," she whispered, "when you have gone to such lengths to remind me. "

Vale’s lips twitched. "If there were not so many ears around, I would show you what manner of punishment your errant words deserve.

" He brushed a white curl behind her arched ear, tracing the tip of it with his finger.

Her scent wrapped around him, filling him with every inhale.

"I’d force you to confess every thought and dream to me. "

Vale pulled away, his control too close to slipping. Possessive words filled his lungs like smoke; he couldn’t let them free.

She was flushed, trembling, didn’t look him in the eye.

"And you would tell me, because I would not stop until you did. Until everything inside you belonged to me."

Luella’s maroon lips parted, words poised on the tip of her tongue.

But he would never hear them?—

A bell chimed, echoing the hour.

The moment was shattered like a blade striking glass.

She flinched, staring at the curtains that kept them shrouded in false privacy. Laughter and cheers echoed beyond.

The King stood, inclining his head. "Come. It is time."

They stepped out from behind the curtain, and the crowd grew hushed at the sight of them—the King and his Chosen. He led her to the steps of the dais, as was customary, and stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to stare out at the crowd with him behind her.

Facing out at the crowd, Vale was hit with a wave of familiarity.

Let’s hope this time does not end in death, he thought.

The chiming ceased, a long, echoing ring that cascaded throughout the throne room until it was only a memory.

He did not speak, simply waited.

It was tradition for the reigning King to publicly hand over the Chosen to his Advisor, so Vale would be forced to give her away to Bastian for her lessons tonight.

Fire roared inside him, fingers tightening on her shoulder until a slight whimper was torn from her lips.

Luella seemed to sense Bastian’s arrival, her head turning to the side, as the vampire stepped out of the crowd .

Bastian’s reddened eyes found his, words passing through their minds: I will keep her safe. Meet me as soon as you can.

His dragon prowled beneath his skin, restless, curling around his ribs like he wanted to claw his way out. Did not understand patience. Did not understand why he did not simply take.

Vale shuddered, and he felt her tense against him.

Bastian stopped before them both and held out a pale hand for her to take. "King Vale," he addressed, voice a sinful croon as he stared at Luella.

Vale took her hand, so small in his.

She started to form the shape of a sentence.

"Do not speak, Chosen, until you are given permission," the King ordered. "I thought you had learned to be obedient." This, added for the benefit of the revelers. They tittered, unused to such an unwilling Chosen. She was a novelty—captive and Chosen. If only they knew she was his Vincire, too.

If only they knew he wished to force her to become his Queen.

His dragon purred, picturing her in jewels laid amongst his furs. A golden crown that matched his own, but smaller, more delicate, perched upon her white tresses.

Luella tried to pull away, and Vale realized he must have been hurting her with his grip. His green eyes met her wide blue ones, and he let his voice carry as he said, "For the night, you are his."

And Vale took her hand and placed it in Bastian’s awaiting palm. The vampire’s fingers closed around her wrist as he took her, and Vale felt colder without her near.

"My King." Bastian bowed his head. "The Chosen will be safe in my care."

Vale knew his words were not empty.

Bastian led her way. Vale noted the way her shoulders curved inward in fear, how her eyes darted around.

Her lips parted, but she was unable to speak because Vale had ordered her silence.

Instead, she did something foolish…

Luella ripped her hand away from the vampire. She did not falter as she peered out at the crowd. Her roving eyes paused. Vale followed her gaze, finding the demon tucked in the corner beside the cloaked Graves and smug Tharen.

Azgorath’s chest heaved with angered breaths as he stared.

Luella looked away…

Toward Vale.

And whatever she saw on his face made her stumble. Bastian used the momentary falter to pounce, wrapping his hand around hers tightly and pulling her out of the room.

Luella’s neck craned, staring at Vale until the doors closed behind them both.

Such bad manners.

Vale knew the crowd expected her to be punished. An invisible, collective sigh swept through the room—lamenting at her utter disrespect—broken by harsh whispers.

Vale let his eyes sweep over the crowd. "Rejoice! Drink! For it is the fourth night of the Winter Solstice, and the Chosen’s journey has only begun."

The King ignored the increasingly raucous cheers of the crowd and quickly skirted the edges.

They soon forgot about him, wrapped up in the charge of pleasure in the air.

Wine flowed freely, mingling with the sweet scent of Rys.

As Vale passed the shadows, he did not look toward Graves, Tharen, or Azgorath.

They had discussed this beforehand, knew they were to time their exits accordingly to not raise suspicion.

In the darkness of the vacant halls, his pace quickened, desperate to see her.

Felt her, the tug of the thread inside him—such a unique sentiment for their bond; he found he liked it.

Threads.

They were tied together, after all.