Page 81 of A Dance With Fire
She hopped out of Shula’s reach and prowled to the doorway, which was opened a crack. She stopped and turned, her demon eyes demanding.
“I guess you want me to follow you.”
Meow.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Throwing the sheet off the rest of the way, Shula slipped into the boots that had been waiting for her last night. They were made of some type of animal hide and lined along the edges with fur. The clothes were warm as well; soft on the inside, her shirt and fur-lined jacket kept out the harsh wind that seemed to breeze through the glassless windows of the castle. Her pants were regular workman’s pants, a little tight around her ass and thighs, but she wouldn’t complain.
She followed after the cat down the cold hallways of the castle, her attention snagging. It was rather empty, and she felt it deep in her bones, the lack of warmth. Like this wasn’t really home but a space to settle in, and it showed.
The cat led her down a set of winding stairs down to the foyer they were received in the previous night and towards the opened front doors.
Breeze and snow filtered through. The cat stopped as if that was as far as she meant to go and wouldn’t get her paws filthy with snow.
“So you won’t go out there, but you want me to?” Shula cocked her head to the side.
She swore she could see the cat roll her eyes.
Fine, she’d go. But she felt it strange that she hadn’t found one of her guards trailing after her at all yet. Perhaps they knew she wasn’t idiot enough to escape through snowy mountains she knew nothing about. Because she knew they definitely didn’t trust her.
Taking a breath, Shula stepped outside and into the cold.
The tip of her nose tingled at the assault. It was light out, everything made brighter by several feet of thick snow that expanded all across the landscape. She could hear voices outside, more than there were at the camp, but these sounded far away, and she couldn’t make out what they were saying. In front of her, however, standing in a line side by side were Julius, Clay, Uric, Valerio, and Ryker.
Ugh.Shula turned to glare at the cat, only to find she was no longer there.Traitor.
“Morning, Fire Dancer.”
She turned to find Clay smiling at her. She’d captured everyone’s attention and it made her heart pound because she could feel Ryker’s hateful gaze drilling holes into her skull.
She bit the inside of her cheek to avoid snapping at him, then forced a smile to her face that couldn’t be considered anything but fake. “Good morning, Clay.”
The beautiful Fae held his hand out to her. She hesitated; he saw it but still kept his palm up, waiting patiently.
When Shula finally decided to go to him, she tentatively placed her palm on his. Clay turned her hand over, and his lips skimmed across her knuckles. It was a gesture that was flirtatious, if the smirk on his mouth was anything to go by, as well as the wink he sent her way.
She rolled her eyes and pulled her hand from his. Almost without wanting to, her eyes found Ryker down the line of Fae males, and her face heated. He was staring at her with thick brows pulled together and his jaw clenched tightly. Like something about her interaction with Clay upset him.
She forced her gaze away from him to Clay’s amused, glittering eyes. “What are you all doing out here?” she asked quietly.
“Waiting for the king.”
Her body stiffened, and her lips pressed into a thin line. Fear beat a rapid pattern in her heart and her fingers trembled.
“The king?” She somehow managed to get the words out.
“Valerio’s father. King Ashera. Uric’s going to portal him here. He should be arriving in—”
His words were interrupted as Uric stepped forward and waved a hand around the air. It shimmered and the portal opened. Almost immediately, Fae stepped through it, bundled in dark, hooded cloaks.
“The king has arrived.” Clay’s lips pressed against her ear, and she jolted away from the contact.
Clay chuckled and pulled away.
The portal behind the newly arrived Fae closed. There were five of them, two on either side of the tallest who stood in the middle. They all lowered their hoods simultaneously, and it was the tallest who held Shula captivated.
He was an older Fae. Even with smooth skin and not a wrinkle in sight, that much was obvious. It was in the way he carried himself, his presence commanding respect. Long, dark brown hair curtained around a beautifully sharp face that looked similar to Valerio’s. Everything about them was similar, and Shula knew he had to be the King of the Seelie Court. Except the king was broader than his son, with muscles that were more prominent and pressed against the material of his cloak.
