Page 10 of A Fate so Cruel

But his stomach was a pit, empty and void.

Rion’s good leg bounced. He stared out Saoirse’s window, watching the breeze glide through the fruit trees on the outskirts of the garden path. He wasn’t leaving Saoirse’s room until she returned.

Rion’s gaze drifted toward the trapdoor in the floor. The guards had discovered it, of course, and two were also stationedat the entrance of the study, just to make sure he wouldn’t try to escape. And to ensure no one else came to finish the job.

Rion shuddered. He’d never had to run for his life before. He’d been lucky, or maybe the gods had watched over him. His mother prayed to them a lot.

Rion rested his chin on his knee, folded his arms around one leg, and waited and waited and waited.

Chapter Three

Saoirse didn’t return that week or the week after. His ankle healed. He attended therapy. Liam tried to keep him occupied. And the staff throughout the palace tried to cheer him up to no avail.

He visited the messenger room every morning. No one sent a letter. No one had an update. His entire family was out on a mission to find his mother and Rion was left to wander the halls while his mind conjured the worst possible scenarios.

She’s strong. She’s strong. She’s strong.

He wasn’t.

Life resumed in a somewhat normal fashion. He attended school, paid attention to his studies, and even took up a more advanced level of combatives. No one denied him anything.

He received extra treats and attention from the cooks, and his father’s assigned warriors followed him around wherever he went. Were it not for his healing foot and the tender tendons, he would have tried to outrun them. Might have even enjoyed it were it not for the aching pain in his chest.

Gods, he missed them.

Even with all the activities to keep him occupied, Rion saw the way the adults exchanged uneasy glances. The worry in their eyes when he didn’t finish his meals and chose to spend his spare time staring out the large window, hoping someone, anyone, would walk down the cobblestone path with good news.

It was a stormy afternoon when the palace halls finally came alive. It started with a rushing slave, followed by several others sprinting down the hall.

Then the guards’ boots echoed, their voices shifting into a frenzy of whispered noise. The nobles stopped what they were doing and crowded before doorways, curious and wary.

Rion’s heart crawled into his throat and he barely dared to hope. He sat a little straighter, wondering if there had been another attack instead. He inched toward the doorway and two words had him bolting past the warriors who guarded the hall.

“They’re back.”

Rion had never run so fast in his life. He ignored a desperate voice that called after him, dodged a pair of gloved hands that reached out, and downright refused to acknowledge the pain shooting through his ankle as he sprinted through the halls.

The ankle gave out once but Rion bit the inside of his cheek to ignore the pain.

Tears fogged his vision as soon as he scented her. Saoirse. She was okay. She was alive and here and—Rion blasted through the final doorway then skidded to a sudden stop.

His sister, Alec, and their father all stood just inside the foyer. All were coated in weeks of mud and blood and sweat.

But it wasn’t the smell or the way their clothes were torn and hair disheveled that froze him in place.

It was the haggard look on their faces. The absolute defeat.

Saoirse just stared at the marble floor as though she were lost. Alec silently unbuckled his sword belt and handed it off to a slave.

And their father—Rion could scent the rage spilling off him from here. His fists were tightly clenched and his body shook as if he couldn’t contain himself.

Someone tried to speak to him and the male’s face snapped up so suddenly that the warrior stepped back and quickly bowed their head.

Then his father’s fist flew into the nearest pillar. The marble splintered and cracked, a line racing all the way toward the ceiling.

And then the High Lord of Brónach hit his knees and wept.

Rion’s throat swelled shut and he stepped back. He tried to clear it, tried to breathe.

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