Page 106 of A Dance With Fire
Shula couldn’t help but feel like he kept his hand plastered to hers to keep the two of them tethered. Because maybe, even though he demanded it, he didn’t really want to be alone.
His heartbeat slammed against her palm, as rough as the edges of his scars. It was a sound that resonated in Shula’s own soul.
“It wasn’t real,” she whispered. Those words were empty and she knew it, but she didn’t know what else to say to him. She could feel his fear; it wafted over her like a powerful blow.
For a moment, his eyes flashed with clarity, and he snorted a breath. He gripped her hand tighter and using the other, he trailed his fingers down the side of her face in a surprising moment of intimacy. “It was real, Shula.”
It was the strangest moment of vulnerability between the two. Shula’s heart beat faster, and she wondered if he could hear it. Her throat tightened with so many emotions and this connection between them. Like a force of invisible magic that somehow pulled them together.
The humans, her power, the Emperor of Illyk… none of it frightened her more than their connection right then.
“Who’s Mairin?”
It was the wrong thing to ask. His whole body tensed, and he looked down at everywhere their skin touched, as if just now realizing just how close they were, at how intimately their skin kissed. He dropped his hold on her, and then he did what she’d expected him to do in the first place.
He pushed her hand away gently and stormed away into the dark of the forest. Shula watched him go, feeling a burning sensation behind the backs of her lids. She willed herself not to cry for the scarred Fae man who dared showed his vulnerable side and open up even with something as simple as a touch.
She willed herself not to cry for the haunted look that mirrored her own.
She willed herself not to cry over the fact he woke up screaming another woman’s name.
She willed herself not to cry because she didn’t know why she was hurting in the first place.
37
Wounds of the Mind
The next morning, after everyone was well and truly rested, they decided not to waste any more time and marched onward. No one mentioned the fact that Ryker had woke up crying out someone’s name in the middle of the night or that he hadn’t gone back to sleep. No one talked about what they had no doubt heard between Shula and Ryker, or about the fact that he didn’t show up to their camp until it was time to leave.
Not even Shula felt the need for that conversation. Not yet, at least, when the feelings were still so raw inside her, insidehim, even though he seemed to have hardened his resolve under grim expressions and glares.
So Shula bit her tongue as everyone packed their bags and continued on through Orknie. The mood was quiet and somber, the silence only broken up by the sounds of birds and other wildlife. When they finally came to a stop as night descended, they prepared a fire, and laid down to sleep.
Ryker and Weylyn were set to take first watch, and Shula found her gaze on Ryker. Even while she laid down, using her hands to pillow her cheek, her eyes followed him as he stepped into the woods, wondering aboutwhoMairin was. She figured the others knew, and she wanted to ask them, but she wanted to learn that information from Ryker himself.
An impossible dream, she thought, because of the way he’d closed up when she’d asked the first time. He would never tell her who Mairin was and why he thrashed and cried out like that.
Whoever she was, she must have been terribly important if Ryker lost sleep over her.
And that hurt.
Clutching the pain close to her chest, Shula finally let her eyes close and she drifted off to sleep.
* * *
“Wake up.”A heeled boot nudged against Shula’s side. Though the touch was soft, she jolted up on the ground, her heart pounding, her breathing all but erratic.
She glared up at Ryker through her grogginess, meeting his stern expression. “What the fuck?” she hissed, rubbing the backs of her hands against her eyelids. The sun hadn’t even risen yet and darkness still blanketed the woods.
“Get up,” he ordered.
The tone had her reaching for the dagger he’d given her, sheathed at her waist, and looking around camp. “What is it?” She listened intently but didn’t hear anything other than the soft breathing of her Fae companions in sleep.
“We’re training, Fire Dancer. Now.”
She stared at him, a part of her wanting to flip him a vulgar gesture and go back to sleep, but the pressing bruises beneath his eyes made her stop and reconsider.
Ryker loathed her. Of all the Fae, he was the only one who hadn’t yet trained with her. He’d been the only one who hadn’t offered her any input at all, save to tell her what a frightened mess she was. And now he was staring down at her, an unreadable, hard expression over his features.
