Page 129 of A Dance With Fire
His smile was vile. “You’ll tell us if you see any of these Fae and Fae sympathizer scum, won’t you, pretty little thing?”
The name made her skin crawl, but she forced a smile to her face. “Of course, I will.”
He gave her a jerking nod then turned to his companion, gesturing with his chin. “Take a look at these faces, pretty thing.”
She forced her eyes away from him, nearly afraid to do so. It wasn’t wise to take her eyes off a predator, but she knew the decision was forced. So she turned to his companion to see him holding up one of the posters.
“Recognize that face, pretty thing?”
It was all slashing black lines, a face painted to look vicious, more wild animal than Fae.
“No, sir.”
He dropped the poster to reveal another one beneath it. This one of a human she didn’t recognize. “This one?”
“No, sir.”
“What about this one?”
Filomena froze, feeling everything inside her go tense as if ready to snap. She tried to school her expression, her breathing.
Because Filomena recognized the Fae on the poster.
Black lines curved and connected, forming the beautiful face of the Fae woman hidden above stairs.
But Filomena’s voice didn’t waver. “No, sir.”
“Pity, that. If you see them, you’ll let us know?”
“Of course, sir.”
He released her wrist, and she fought the urge to rub it; it wasn’t wise to show weakness before men like them.
Giving them one last smile, she turned and went back to the kitchen, dropping the posters on the table next to the vegetables, where Cook was chopping and Imogen was supervising.
“Soldiers,” Filomena supplied. “The emperor has ordered the posters be placed on the walls.”
Imogen’s eyes strayed to the rolled parchments, but she didn’t reply. It wasn’t wise to do that, either. There were eyes and ears everywhere. Any whisper of rebellion could cost them their heads. So Imogen picked up the parchment and placed them into the pocket of her apron. As soon as she finished supervising Cook, the posters would go up. Every wall would be plastered with the face of the Fae they harbored in secret.
Tonight, Filomena would have to tell them. They were wanted.
And Filomena and Imogen would do whatever it took to keep them safe.
* * *
Midnight came and went,and the inn finally quieted down. Cook had left, and Imogen was in her office, counting the day’s earnings. Meanwhile, Filomena was in the kitchen, preparing plates of food for their Fae guests.
There seemed to be an unspoken rule between Imogen and Filomena; they wouldn’t mention the Fae or acknowledge their presence. Not even at night. So Filomena hurried through the motions to take their food up and come back down as quickly as possible. She’d tell them about the soldiers, and in a few hours, she was sure they would be gone.
The thought almost made her sad, if only because she could imagine how hard it was to be Fae, to fear being killed on sight simply because of what they were. Filomena understood fear. Being an unmarried young woman, she lived with it every day, but she would never know the fear they experienced. There was no way to compare the two, and it made Filomena realize how privileged she really was. She could walk openly down the street, ears exposed, without being skewered with an iron sword.
They didn’t have that luxury.
She hoped that one day they would.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the back door to the kitchen open. Not until it was too late.
A blinding pain came as she was gripped by the back of the neck, her face slammed onto an empty plate she’d been in the process of serving. Her hands dropped everything. Food flew as her fingers reached back, grasping at her attacker. Nails scraped across leather, and that simple touch made everything within her still.
