Page 58 of A Dance With Fire
“I have an idea,” she whispered.
20
Fae Wine
“How many?” Valerio inquired.
“Thirty.” Julius leaned against the inside of a cave wall and used a dagger to pick at his nails. Uric stood at the entrance of the cave, guarding to make sure no one came too close to listen to their plans.
“A good number,” Valerio replied. “My father will be pleased.” He’d found twelve refugees. Forty-two was despicable compared to the numbers their race had before the war, but they would have to make do with anyone loyal they could find. “Supplies?”
Julius broke out into a smile. “Pelts, dried goods, clothes, instruments,and…” He let the word trail off and he looked up from his task to meet everyone’s gazes. “Fae wine.”
Clay nearly fell over in his surprise. “Fae what now?” he demanded, his bright eyes wide.
Valerio felt shocked himself. Fae wine was a delicacy they hadn’t had in years.
Julius flashed them all a shit-eating grin. “Found a High Fae and his little goblin who produce the stuff together. I had a sip of it and, shit, it took me back.” His eyes glowed in the shadows, likely remembering the past when they celebrated openly, when there hadn’t been strife with humans and they could afford fermented, magical wine.
Now they were reduced to little more than scavengers, criminals on the run, hiding from the laws of humans. Laws that dictated how a once proud race should live in fear.
Something in Valerio’s blood boiled and he couldn’t hide his deadly stare.
He feared for his kind; feared that there were so little of them left, that they had no home but safe house to safe house. He wanted more for the Fae, Seelie and Unseelie alike. He didn’t know how to go about that. They didn’t have the armies to spare.
The seer’s,Davina’s, words rang in his mind about Shula Azzarh and the salvation she was.
For years he had watched his people diminish into practically nothing, so he didn’t feel guilty that he’d taken away her choices. He would do whatever it took to save his race. Whether she liked it or not.
“What's the deal with the Fire Dancer?” Julius asked cautiously, as if he’d been in tune to Valerio’s thoughts.
Valerio brought his attention back to the present and noted everyone was staring at him, waiting for him to answer. He relaxed his angry expression into a serious one that didn’t breathe a whisper of murder.
Clay snorted before Valerio could open his mouth. “Princey here thought it a good idea to kidnap her.”
Julius just opened his mouth. “Ah,” he murmured.
Valerio glared at Clay. “You conveniently left out the part where we rescued her from a deranged Brotherhood of humans who kept her chained to an altar.”
Julius’ eyes widened then. “Ah,” he said again.
“Yeah, ah.” Then Valerio proceeded to explain what had happened. He told Julius about the seer, Davina, and her request—he left out the prophecy she’d whispered in his ear like a dark temptation—about going to the temple and finding Shula. They relayed what Shula had told them and what the Brotherhood had done to her, about how she could be the savior of the Fae, about how they were keeping her there against her will because as long as they had her, it meant the Emperor of Illyk wouldn’t.
By the end of the story Julius had stopped picking at his nails to stare. “Well, it makes sense. It’s fucked up, but it makes sense.” He shrugged and went back to cleaning his cuticles. “If she’s meant to be some sort of savior, maybe Emperor Dickface knows about it and wants to kill her before she can save us all? It makes sense to keep her in our care.”
Clay groaned.
“But,” Julius continued, dragging emphasis out on the word. “It doesn’t sit well with me that she’s here unwillingly. She’s a Fae too.”
At those words, Ryker snorted. “Fae don’t butcher their fucking ears.”
Clay rolled his eyes. “Again with that? Have you even asked her why she did it before you start judging her?”
“You seem mighty defensive of her,” Julius joked, his mouth pulled up in what could only be described as mischief.
Valerio always thought Julius was a descendent of the people of the wood. They were mischievous Fae who liked to stir shit and play practical jokes.
If he didn’t know Clay’s own heritage, he would have assumed the same thing about him.
