Page 78 of A Dance With Fire
“I’m just trying to help.” She hated that her voice quivered. That she felt weakened by his outburst when, really, she should feel angry instead.
“I do not need your fucking help, Fire Dancer,” he spat. “Nor do I want your filthy hands on me.”
Her rage shot up, mind flashing back to Fanny, to the reactionshe’dhad when Shula extended a hand for help. Shula had felt it like a blow andcoweredinstead of giving herself the time to feel the rage she rightfully deserved.
Suddenly Ryker’s gaze became Fanny’s. They blurred together in an angry mesh. Either she was too human for one or too Fae for the other, and it wasn’t fair that she was receiving this treatment.
“You know what.” She stepped close to him and shoved her palms against his broad chest, and he staggered back. “I am so fucking sick andtiredof you treating me like shit, asshole!”
His eyes narrowed. “Treating you like shit?” He stepped closer. “You mean the way you’ve treated the entire Fae race by degrading yourself?” Ryker shook his head and snorted, a sound of wry amusement pushing past his lips.
“You hate me because of something I had no control over.” Shula could barely hear her own words over the rapid pounding of her heart and her sharp inhalations. “I was achild! The decision was taken from me. My parents were murdered and this…” She pushed her hair out of her face to expose her ears. “This was done for my own survival. I don’t know how you can’t understand that!”
“I can understand perfectly fine. But you are no longer a child and still you hide that which should make you proud. You’d whore yourself out to the humans if it meant saving your life.”
Her hand shot out before she could stop it, connecting to his face. The slap resonated through the castle, sounding louder than it actually had been. Her palm ached but she ignored the pain.
There were no words in her vocabulary to describe to him what she was feeling, and yet she tried anyway. “You’re disgusted with me because I did what I had to do to survive. I had no one. Unlike you and your little Resistance. I’ve been on my own since I wastwelve, Ryker. I’m not ashamed of what I’ve done because it means I’m alive.” She sucked in a ragged breath, tasting salt on her lips.
Fuck.
She hadn’t even realized she was crying.
She hadn’t cried in years, and yet the exhaustion had taken its toll and the tears came uninhibited, unabashed, and Ryker stared at them like they were foreign and disgusting.
“No, Fire Dancer. I am disgusted with you because you are a coward. Perhaps you were a frightened child then, but you aren’t any longer. You aren’taloneany longer, either. You are surrounded by Fae and human alike who are willing to risk their lives for a better future while you’d rather stick your head in the sand and go back to a mediocre life on the run, with mediocre friends who would betray you for a sack of gold.” He stepped closer and closer, until their chests bumped together, until she felt the blood from his body seep onto her shirt. “Thatis why you disgust me.”
It hurt. Every word he spoke hurt because she couldn’t deny their truth. Because wasn’t that exactly what had happened? She’d survived and once it was discovered what she really was, she’d been tossed to the emperor’s soldiers in exchange for money. Like she was property, like she had little value. Years of friendship gone. Just like that.
Fanny had betrayed her; the others at Piriguini’s Circus would have, too. Deep down she knew that. Because every day all she heard were jokes at the expense of Esses, of Fae scum. And she’d laughed along right with them even when she died inside a little more each time.
But here among Fae? They protected her. Clay protected her, Ryker healed her, Julius laughed with her, and Orna had befriended her. She knew they’d rather die than hand her over to the Emperor of Illyk.
But Shula couldn’t think of them in that positive light. Just because she’d made friends, shared Fae wine, and had a few laughs didn’t mean they were completely innocent. It didn’t mean they even saw her as a friend. She was their captive, a weapon that they didn’t want the emperor to have.
So really, what was her purpose here? What was her purpose anywhere? She didn’t have one. And that left her mind spinning. It left her more lost than she could ever be in foreign kingdoms. That she was nothing to no one, that she would always be labeled as everything other than what she really was.
Shula had nothing left. No words she could say to Ryker. He was adamant in his hatred, and while it stung her pride, there was nothing she could do to change it. Not even spend hours with him mending the sick. Not burning Orna’s body. Not even offering to help his own wounds.
Fine.
She was too tired to continue this back and forth anyway, too resigned, too worn out. If he wanted to bleed out on the floors of Castle Aileach, then so be it. That was his business.
And she was a fool for even trying.
27
The Taste of Victory is Bitter
Ryker’s heart was pounding. His side was aching, his magic depleted, and he could feel the traces of iron still in his blood.
And all he wanted to do was harm the Fire Dancer in every imaginable way. To keep her away from him, to get her to stop looking at him with varying degrees of severity in her expression.
Mostly, he wanted a fucking drink.
The Fire Dancer was a rather expressive female and easy to read. He saw her hatred for him burning clearly in her eyes, so he noticed when all emotion fell away. She hardened her features, tightened her jaw, and spun on her heel and stormed off.
She took all the warmth in the hallway with her and all the heat from his emotions, leaving nothing but a cold hollowness behind. He suddenly felt very tired and weak. Staggering a few steps, his back collided against the stone wall and he slumped against it, inhaling sharply.
