Page 92 of A Dance With Fire
The silence that ensued was uncomfortable at best. A strange tension filled the air, thicker than smoke. Silence encircled them that Shula couldn’t read. She couldn’t read between his growls, his glares, or the way his hands pressed gently and firmly against her chin, the soft way he commanded, “Eyes on me.”
He was confounding.
But she didn’t want to think about him and his mood swings. There were more important things at stake and on her mind. Like what tomorrow would bring, and what truth they’d discover on the road to Tir na Faie.
“Did you live in Tir na Faie?” she asked quietly. “Before…”
“Yes.”
That was it. No explanation, no elaboration. Just his seething glare into the flames. Flames that cast a wicked blue reflection in that white eye.
“What was it like?”
She didn’t know why she was engaging in conversation with him. Perhaps because he was there. Perhaps because out of all of the Fae she’d met so far, Ryker seemed… he seemedreal.He didn’t hide what he was. He didn’t try to manipulate her into befriending him. He hated wholly, entirely, and unabashedly.
She could respect it, even when it infuriated her more than being kidnapped did.
He brought his tankard up to his lips and took a giant swallow. For a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer her. Maybe it had been too much of a personal question for him? But she thought it’d be nice to hear about the land they would travel to. What it had been before the wars and hatred consumed the earth.
“It was home.” His voice thickened with longing.
“I don’t know what that means.” Shula hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but the words had already escaped her lips. They were true, though. She didn’t know what a true home was. She’d lived a nomadic life for twenty-two years. Home was one place, not many. The circus hadn’t been a home. It had been a means for survival and, deep down, she always knew she wouldn’t be wholly safe there.
“The Crimson Court was my home,” Ryker surprised her by saying. “But that was a long time ago.”
“How oldareyou?”
He took another drink. “Old enough to have witnessed the start of this war. Old enough to witness death. Old enough to witness the humans go mad with hatred. And old enough to see Fae succumb to treachery.”
And there it was.
He couldn’t go a moment without jabbing at her. She didn’t know why she kept trying, or why he even bothered on coming near her if he hated her so much. Maybe he just liked to annoy her on purpose…
Shula sighed and set her cup down on the floor between her legs. “Good night, Ryker.”
He grunted in response as she stood and stalked back to her room. It was better if she went to bed anyway. Tomorrow was going to be a long day of travel and she needed to preserve her strength for the journey ahead.
She didn’t need to waste any more time thinking about things she could never have. Like freedom. Like a home.
Like a gentle word from a hateful giant.
* * *
Ryker watchedher until she climbed up the stairs and disappeared around the corner.
Meow.
He grunted. “Don’t start with me.”
Meow.
He imagined the cat rolling her damn eyes.
He couldn’t help himself. Venom was churning in his gut, threatening to eat him alive. Any time he looked at the Fire Dancer, he remembered Mairin, her face pale in death, and the fact that he’d been too slow to save her. To take her scars and live with the pain of a betrayal that cut too deep.
He sighed and ran a hand over his face. The next moment when he opened his eyes, Weylyn was next to him, standing, staring at the path where the Fire Dancer had walked towards her room.
Ryker tried not to growl.
