Page 132 of A Dance With Fire
“How did they find out?” Julius demanded tightly. He didn’t wait for Valerio’s permission before he was looming over the soldier’s dead body and dragging him across the kitchen floor. Blood trailed behind him in pools. Julius dropped the man’s feet then reached down, rummaging through the bag hanging over his shoulder, coming up with crumpled parchment. “Ah,” Julius declared. “This makes sense.” He extended his arm to Shula, handing her the painted sign.
Valerio barely caught sight of it. He’d seen so many of them throughout the years, most with his face painted on them in sharp, angry strokes like he was some feral animal, that he knew what it said.
WANTED.
Shula’s face, an incredible likeness of her, was on that parchment. The moment she took it in and saw the wordsAlive and Intact, Valerio could smell her fear.
Her hands trembled as she held the sign. He could only guess what was going through her mind. All her life, she’d lived hidden in the limelight of the circus, in plain sight yet away from the humans. She’d kept her Fae-self hidden out of fear and the bone-deep need to survive.
And just like that, the perfect little safety blanket she’d been holding tightly to had been ripped from her.
They had her face; there would be no more running. Valerio had told her. The Brotherhood knew what she looked like. So any dreams she ever had of returning to the life she had before had been only that.
Dreams.
Ryker looked over her shoulder at the portrait of her and growled, the sound low and protective.
“H-he had a friend,” Filomena whispered.
Valerio turned back to her. “What?”
Her chin jerked. “The soldier. This afternoon he was here with a friend, but tonight he came alone.”
“Fuck.” Julius hauled the body up again. “Prince, we gotta go.”
Emotions swirled within Valerio, building up to a storm that threatened a path of destruction. He wanted to keep a level head, but sudden guilt overwhelmed him.
“The safe house is compromised,” he gritted out.
“Do you hear that?”
Hounds.
“His piece of shit friend went to get help.”
“You have to go,” Filomena said, straightening. Her voice was suddenly firm, her expression bereft of fear and replaced with grim determination. “Leave the body.”
“We brought this mess to you,” Valerio argued. “We can’t just leave him here to be found.”
Imogen smoothed her palms down her apron. “Filomena is right. There is no time. Leave or they will capture you.”
Valerio knew what would happen if they left. They would be charged with treason for being Fae sympathizers. They would be charged with the murder of a soldier. The inn would burn to the ground and Imogen and Filomena? They wouldn’t live through the night.
He couldn’t do that. Everything within him screamed it was wrong. He knew what his father would say, what the king would do, but these women had risked their lives for him.
What kind of ruler would he be if he wasn’t willing to do the same?
“Go! Now!” Filomena snapped.
“You know their lives do not equate to your own,”Weylyn’s voice whispered in his ear, through his mind. He didn’t need to turn to know that the bastard was using his magic against the prince.
And damn it, he was right. Valerio was a prince. They were two maids. Yet the thought of their deaths didn’t sit well with him. His life didn’t feel any more valuable than theirs.
“They will kill you.” He had to try one last time.
Filomena straightened. “I was prepared to die today, anyway.”
The barking of the hounds came closer.
