Page 4 of Sundered By Fate

Aric swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. He could taste the acrid tang of magic still lingering in the air, and beneath it all—underneath even that—a dark, insidious whisper in the back of his mind:

You were never meant to come home.

Aric squeezed his eyes shut against it—against the sight of their anger and fear twisting toward hatred; against the knowledge that once again everything had changed between himself and those he'd fought so hard to protect.

"I was trying to help," he managed at last—a pitifully small response compared with what these people deserved from him after everything.

Laughter erupted from within their ranks—a harsh sound that burned like acid in Aric's ears. But before he could muster any response, another voice cut through:

"Enough."

It was a woman's voice; soft yet fierce enough that it left no room for argument—and it sent chills skittering along Aric's spine despite himself.

The guards parted for her, revealing a woman in her forties with a commanding presence. She wore the insignia of Thornhaven's townmaster, but there was an unfamiliarity to her that told Aric she must be new to the position since he'd left. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and her eyes were cold and assessing as they raked over him.

"Who are you?" she asked again, though it was clear from the steel in her voice that she was not in the mood for games.

Aric took a deep breath, willing his magic to subside. The shadows around him faded, leaving only the faint glow of his sigils.

"My name is Aric Solarian," he said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. "I was once of the Silver Tower."

The woman's eyes narrowed at that, but she didn't interrupt him.

"I know what I look like," Aric continued, glancing down at himself—at the once-fine silks and velvets Malekith once dressed him, now soiled and torn and bloodied from his frantic escape. "And I know what you must be thinking. But I'm here to help." He hesitated, then added, "I need to speak with the Silver Tower as soon as possible."

The woman's expression was impossible to read.

Aric's heart sank. He'd known this was a long shot—knew that no one in their right mind would trust someone like him after everything he'd done—but he couldn't give up now. Not when he was so close.

"Please," he breathed. "I can explain everything."

The woman studied him for a long moment, then nodded to the guards.

"Take him to my office," she said. "We'll get to the bottom of this."

Aric allowed himself to be cuffed with shackles that glowed with anti-magic wards. He should have been terrified; instead,he felt only a weary resignation. There would be no easy path to redemption for him—not after all he'd done—but he'd face whatever trials lay ahead if it meant keeping this town safe.

He followed them willingly, even as he couldn't keep from thinking of another pair of arms that had once felt like home.

Two

Aric fidgeted with the cuffs as the councilors arranged themselves in the town hall, a jury judging him from behind a thick mahogany dais. Gilt-edged candelabras filled the room with a glow he found insipid compared to the flickering of hellfire. When Malekith stepped through the crimson portal, his very essence demanded attention. Here, surrounded by reminders of the life he'd left behind, Aric was only an intruder once more.

"Is that truly necessary?" Aric asked the guards, looking down at his manacles.

"Yes," another shot back. Bastian Held, he thought he'd heard another call the man. Too harsh, though, like gnashing iron. "Until we determine if this is a trap."

The acting townmaster—she'd introduced herself as Virida—stood before him, arms crossed tightly over her chest. In another place and time, she could have worn the armor of the defenders, and may well have, before her promotion.Acting.The very title implied something abrupt, unplanned had befallen the previous townmaster. Thornhaven, too, had endured much. They were all of them out of their depth, stepping into roles they'd never intended.

The part of Aric's mind that had spent too long studying demonic histories and listening to Malekith's stories late at night wondered if he could use that to his advantage.

"You asked to speak with us," she said coolly. "And now you will."

Her dark eyes searched his.

Aric drew a deep breath. "I know my appearance is . . . unexpected." His throat felt too dry, all the earnest speeches he'd rehearsed in those first few weeks under Malekith's rule vanished from his head. "My name is Aric Solarian. I'm—I was—a member of the Silver Tower."

The councilors exchanged glances. Their heads had all turned toward Virida, but she betrayed nothing.

---