Page 5 of A Dance With Fire
“Flip over the first one.”
Shula did as she was told.
The Lovers.
“I thought you said this wouldn’t be promises of love.”
Davina ignored her. “Flip the rest.”
So, she did. One by one, she turned the cards over.
The Lovers. The Fool. The Devil. Ten of Swords. Five of Wands.
And Death.
Before she could ask, Davina was already speaking. “You will accept your true self in the face of danger. Your future holds much darkness and difficult trials ahead. It holds...” She paused, cocking her head to the side.
“What?” Shula almost felt disinterested. This was the same drivel she likely tossed at clients to keep them on the edges of these plush seats.
Davina smiled sharply again. “I see love.”
Shula couldn’t hold back her eye roll. “Alright. You have my gratitude, Madame Davina, for such an interesting reading. I will be sure to consider all aspects of my future.” She stood up and started to leave, only to find the only exit blocked.
Davina had moved, and Shula hadn’t sensed it. In the blink of an eye, the Fae woman was in front of her, and the dark color of her eyes was gone. Pure white eyes glared at Shula, seeing but unseeing. She blindly reached for her, gripping Shula’s wrists tightly and keeping her tethered in place.
“I see blood and fire.” Her voice was hoarse with strain and fear. It was different. It was frightening. Shula tried to pull her hands away, but the woman didn’t budge at all. It was like she wasn’t even present in that moment. “I see robes of white and red and chains of iron. I see men cloaked in shadows and darkness. I hear the echoes of your screams, drowned out in the agony of burning water. I see twin flames carved in flesh… I see… I see pain and fire. A pattern of scars. I see...” She jerked back on a gasp and her whole body fell, crumpling to the ground.
Shula didn’t have time to catch her as she hit the floor with a sickening thud. Her body convulsed a moment later, limbs thrashing out. A high-pitched keel sounded from her throat that was loud enough to wake the dead. Words were thrown from her tongue, leaked through with madness.
It was the price of her magic taking effect.
All magic came with a price, some prices were just higher than others.
Fortunately, soon after she’d screamed, Davina stopped thrashing as well. Her body stilled and Shula bent down to press two fingers to her pulse. She was still breathing. Thank Mana, she thought. If she would have screamed any louder and any longer, anyone could have come running, bursting into her tent.
It was dangerous to be here, but Shula couldn’t bring herself to leave Davina on the ground. Digging into whatever well of strength she had, Shula hefted Davina up and all but dragged her over to her pillows where she gently laid her down.
She stared at the Fae woman a moment longer, at the beauty she tried to dim with makeup and drab clothing and costumes. Her turban had slipped in her fall, exposing the tops of her ears and the pointed aesthetic of them. Shula bent down, tugging at the edge of the turban to cover them up once more. When she stood up, it was almost instinct herself to pull her long, dark locks forward.
Davina’s words burned and echoed in Shula’s mind. Because she had the gift of prophecy, they rang strangely of a dark premonition, and Shula didn’t like that one bit. These were dark times and danger hid in the shadows of every corner. She wished she could push them away. Wished she could somehow turn back time and not have gone into the tent to hear prophecies, fortunes, or futures. She’d known how dangerous it was, and still something had compelled her to enter. To go along with the madness and listen.
The problem with listening to madness was, it invaded your senses like a black plague. It spread through the mind like a contagion. Sometimes, the madness was easy to fight off. And other times, it was just easier to give in.
And in the rarest times, one could stare long and hard and find the madness looking back.
3
Cowardly Fae
The hardest part about being in Tuath was the camps. Though she’d traveled all over Illyk and knew that every kingdom across the lands had camps, Tuath was the worst. It was where the original had been built, and many more after that. Iron structures that rose into a permanently bleak, gray sky, looking like towers out of a nightmare-ish tale.
Because the camps were constantly burning, ash coated thickly through the air, polluting everything with the rotting stench of burnt flesh.
The smell wasn’t as strong as it used to be.
Shula remembered when officials tore through the reservations, actively looking for Fae with magical abilities. When protective treaties failed and laws were changed, she remembered how the hatred for Fae with magic became hatred for Fae in general. Nowhere had been safe.No onehad been safe. Children were ripped from their mother’s arms or killed on sight.
Being killed was a mercy.
