Page 131 of A Dance With Fire
“Do what you have to,” she heaved. “By the time you get to my body, my soul will have moved on and it won’t matter anyway, you sick fuck.”
He snarled. “Fae loving bitch!” And then he swung his sword. Filomena jumped back. She had no experience with weapons; she wasn’t a soldier, didn’t know how to defend herself. But she still swung with all her might, blade meeting iron with such a strong force, that the weapon fell from her fingertips.
Her head whipped back as the side of the blade slapped against her cheek, the edge splitting her skin. The force gave her whiplash and sent her flying to the side, hitting the shelf with pots and pans. They fell, pelting painfully against her body. Agony spread across the whole side of her face, traveling up her temple and skull.
She prayed Imogen had heard the crash from all the way on the other side of the inn while at the same time wishing she hadn’t. If Imogen came in right now, she would protect Filomena and get killed.
Better Filomena than Imogen.
Yet her prayers weren’t answered.
As the soldier charged towards her, grabbing her by the neck and slamming her against the shelf, Imogen burst through into the kitchen, brandishing a sword with all the rage of an avenging mother.
Filomena blinked as she was whipped up and around, her back pressed to the soldier’s front. A moment later, she felt the blade against her throat and was staring through her pain at Imogen’s murderous expression.
“You alright, Filomena?” Imogen asked, her voice steady.
The blade pressed tighter to her throat, drawing a line of blade that made her afraid to answer.
“In the name of the Emperor of Illyk, I reserve the right to sentence this maid to die under the crime of treason for harboring information regarding a Fae fugitive.”
The blade bit into her neck and Filomena knew, almost on instinct, that she was drawing her last breaths. She could read the truth of it in Imogen’s eyes. Her soul would move on. She’d suffered, cried, and fought her whole life. Perhaps she’d done nothing worthwhile. Nothing except for this night, protecting the Fae.
That alone would earn her a warrior’s heaven. She knew, and she closed her eyes and prayed.
And before the last words to beseech whatever gods were listening were finished being uttered in her mind, she felt a shift in the air.
And then came the blood.
It exploded, bursting against her body, her skin warm with the rush of it. Her eyes blinked open to see Imogen. The magical portal shimmering beside her, and the most beautiful male—Fae or otherwise—she’d ever seen in her life, his palm facing her. Blood dripped down his nose, down his eyes like he was crying crimson.
The soldier froze behind her. His hold loosened, the sword fell, and a second later, so did his body.
Filomena stepped away, gasping, turning to look down at the body of the soldier.
Immobile.
Dead.
And covered in blood.
* * *
Clay wipedthe blood from his nose but did nothing to clean the blood tracking tear marks down his cheeks.
Valerio’s cousin always looked uncanny when he unleashed his magic. Because of the violent nature of what Mana had gifted him; to control and augment blood in such a capacity that it erupted from his enemies. In exchange, he lost blood as well, but only a fragment. Only in broken vessels of his eyes and nose.
Valerio felt his fellow Fae emerge from the portal behind him. The commotion from the kitchen had reached their ears, the crashing of pots and pans, and instinctively they knew that they were no longer safe here.
He took in the young maid’s face. Busted and bleeding, bruises already forming against her skin. Her whole body shook, and she stared at Clay, at the hand he’d used to unleash his fury, at the blood still dripping from his eyes. But it wasn’t fear in her eyes.
It was gratitude. Admiration.
“I didn’t tell him anything.” She trembled. “I swear it on my life. He came back because he knew I’d lied earlier, but I swear I didn’t say a thing.” Tears burst from her eyes then, and Valerio wished he had the bravery to run to her and hold her crumpling form to his arms, but Imogen beat him to it.
The young maid’s body wracked up and down with sobs as she curled into the older woman.
“You are brave. Truly,” Valerio said.
