Page 18 of A Dance With Fire
All because she’d wanted to keep Fanny’s friendship. And Fanny had betrayed her.
The captain pulled his helmet off, holding it against his hip. He stared at Shula like she was a rare treasure. Like a spider studying the prey in its web. Dark eyes were bright with rancor and something darker, too.
Malevolence.
“A fire Fae,” he breathed.
Shula cringed back at the inscrutable way he whispered the words.
He stepped forward and gripped her chin in his gauntleted fingers. Steel dug into her skin and she felt the first scratch of blood flow down her face. The thick interloping chains threatened to weigh her down, but his arm kept her upright so their eyes met.
“We have been searching for you for a long time.”
Fear transcended into terror. After all this time? After ten years they’d still searched for her for what had happened? She opened her mouth to argue that it hadn’t been her fault. It had been the emperor’s own soldiers who’d killed that human woman. Shula had just happened to be there. It just happened to be her hem dirtied with blood, her pockets filled with stolen jewels.
She bit her tongue. It didn’t matter what he said. She knew all words would fall on deaf ears anyway.
He pushed aside the hair that curtained her face and his eyes locked onto her curved ears. He stared at them, long and hard enough to make Shula jerk away.
The captain chuckled and dropped his hand.
“We have great plans for you, Fae.”
“What will you do with her, Captain Brannon?” Fanny asked from behind them.
Captain Brannon turned with a flicker of annoyance, as if he’d forgotten she was there at all. Instead of answering, he gestured to one of his soldier’s, who tossed him a sack that clinked as he caught it. He turned and with an impatient flick of wrist, tossed the sack at Fanny’s feet.
“You’ve served your purpose. Take your pay and leave.”
Shula watched with growing horror as Fanny bent and picked up the sack of coins, weighing it in the palm of her hand.
“Fanny.” Shula’s voice cracked.
But Fanny spared her one last, cold glance. As if all history they’d ever shared had been broken by one single truth. As if they hadn’t known one another at all. As if all their laughs, cries, and friendship had vanished into little more than ash. And Fanny turned...
And she walked away.
“Fanny!”
But Shula couldn’t struggle. She couldn’t do anything, because at a quick signal from the captain, a sack was pulled over her face and darkness descended.
And Shula welcomed its embrace.
8
Robes of White and Red
It was the sickness that woke Shula up. A roiling sensation in her stomach that had saliva dribbling from her mouth. She heaved, gagging as her stomach lurched. She couldn’t help that the vomit came soon after. She didn’t notice where it landed with her eyes closed, and she didn’t particularly care until her body collided onto solid ground, jostling her senses awake.
“Fucking bitch!”
She felt the blow a moment later, a fist to her face that had her seeing stars. Her body hugged the floor, her wrists tethered close together by iron manacles that had started bleeding into her skin. She curled into herself on the cold ground, as if being in the fetal position would somehow save her from the death she knew would come.
It was the pain that made her curse still being alive. She was Fae, she’d broken the law by hiding, why weren’t they killing her yet? Why hadn’t they shoved her face first into the iron camps? Where were they taking her? Even as she wondered, she was too cowardly to open her eyes and see.
Another blow came against her ribs and she winced, using her legs to push herself away from the presence of her attacker. With the iron around her wrists, it dulled her natural Fae senses. Her hearing, her smell…
“What are you doing, soldier?” Captain Brannon’s voice clipped out, berating and firm.
