Page 11 of A Sword of Ice
“It means you can kiss your old life goodbye. No coming and going as you damn well please. It means soldiers will be posted here checking for employee identification and iron bracelets. They’re ferreting out the Fae, and it won’t be long until they find you.” Each word he said was punctuated with short steps towards her until his stench was overwhelmingly penetrative.
She wanted to gag but bit the inside of her cheek and held her breath instead.
Petey stopped, close enough in proximity to touch, and she watched as his gaze softened into vestiges of humanity, something she’d never known he was capable of, something she thought he’d long since lost. “It doesn’t have to be that way, though, Iona.” He was a few inches shorter than her, but somehow still managed to look down on her with condescension. “My father cared about you…”
Her throat tightened at the mention of Henry. She wanted to scream at him, tell him he had no right to speak about him in such a caring tone because he’d been an ass when Henry was alive. And she could smell the bullshit spewing through his words and his pores.
Asshole.
“Because he cared about you so much, I’m willing to help you out.”
Her brows rose, and she couldn’t keep the skepticism from her tone. “Really?”
“I can protect you. Get you a fake iron bracelet. You know those are hard to come by these days. They’ll never know.” He stepped closer.
“You’d do that?” He had never been so giving, so kind. In fact, he was neither of those things, and a bad feeling tip-toed its way down her spine that she tried to shove away.
He smiled again, and the expression seared down to her nerves. Perhaps she’d been foolish not to feel fear, thinking he wasn’t a threat because he was weak. In her own arrogance, she’d forgotten something important. That the weakest could sometimes be the most dangerous of them all.
She started to move away, but he was already too close. Petey’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist. The quickness and aggression behind it made her freeze momentarily. He stepped into her space, his other hand closing over her breast and squeezing hard enough to hurt.
“For a price,” he sneered into her face. The stench of ale was revolting and strong, his breath sour and fanning across her lips.
Iona jerked away from him, but his grip against her breast tightened until she winced. “Fucking let go of me!” Her palm met his shoulder as she shoved him away.
Petey staggered back, growling. “Iownyou, you little bitch. If you don’t want your head mounted on the emperor’s walls, then you’ll get on your knees for me, scum.” He reached out again, making a grab for her shoulder, but Iona dodged.
Her back hit the wall and he tried cornering her, oblivious to the shadow that suddenly loomed behind him.
Iona didn’t shout out a warning. She didn’t say anything, but she watched as her familiar rose on his hind legs and roared. Petey flinched but didn’t get the chance to turn around before an enormous paw rammed into his side, shoving him off his feet and away from Iona.
He fell to the ground with a grunt and a curse. The scent of blood was immediate, and when Petey pushed himself to his feet, Iona could make out the tattered arm of his fur jacket seeping through with blood.
Her familiar positioned himself in front of her, blocking Petey from attacking again, but not crowding her against a wall so she couldn’t see him.
His glare was murderous.
“Fucking bitch!” he spat.
Iona’s fingers slid into her familiar’s fur. Holding him steady just as much as she needed to ground herself. She felt like her voice would shake in tune with her pounding heart.
“You’re drunk, Petey,” she accused softly. “I’ll forgive it this time, but I’m not a whore.”
He staggered in short, choppy steps, and when her familiar growled, he jumped back. The jostling movement seemed to finally make him aware of the pain in his arm, so he gripped it and hissed. His eyes blew wide as his palm came away stained with blood.
“You fuckingcunt.”
Her familiar growled.
Petey eyed him warily as he slowly started to make his way towards the door of the cage. His lip pulled back as he stepped further away from her. “You’ll fucking pay for this.” His eyes flicked between Iona and her bear. “Bothof you.” And then he whirled and ran away, slamming the door of the cage behind him.
Iona didn’t breathe until he was gone. Even then, white noise rang through her ears, heart demanding exit through her chest. Her fingers didn’t stop running through coarse, white fur. Her eyes became distant. She wasn’t sure it was possible to stare at absolutely nothing, but she did it. Was left unseeing until she felt a wet nudge against her hand.
Jolted from the void, she stared down at her familiar, felt the worry in his eyes hit her straight in the chest. So she made sure to breathe a single, deep breath, and she smiled. Her fingers ran against his fur, a gesture meant for the comfort of them both.
“Everything is going to be alright,” she whispered.
And for once, she wasn’t sure she could believe in her daily prayer.
