Page 126 of A Fate so Cruel

The male barely registered Rion’s raised hand as he struck the side of his neck. The male went limp and Rion caught his falling form, preventing his head from hitting the tiled floor.

He stripped the servant of his clothes, stuffed him inside the utility closet, and left his own neatly folded suit on the male’s lap.

Rion grimaced at the material he was forced to wear. It was too hot and he’d always hated wearing white. It stained too easily, but the servants were meant to be easily seen, thus the color choice. Rion grabbed the empty serving tray from the floor and slipped out of the bathroom.

He slowed his pace and kept his head down. Guests filled his tray with their empty flutes of wine and glasses of whisky. Some barked a command for more and Rion quietly inclined his head.

The clock had started. Anytime now, the servant he’d left in the closet could be found, then questions would arise and the entire palace would go on full alert. He didn’t have time to search for Selina. Didn’t have time to see if she was dancing with another male.

Rion weaved through the crowd, collecting glasses until his tray was full. He followed the other servants to the kitchens and breezed through the heavy double doors.

The kitchens were bustling and hot and crammed as servants filed in, set their empty trays along a side table and took new ones. Some were filled with alcohol, others small delicacies that made his mouth water. They clearly wouldn’t be getting a break tonight. Especially where drinks were concerned.

Rion stepped back to observe, his tray still in hand. To anyone else, he might appear as a new hire. Someone who didn’t quite know or remember where things went.

It became clear from the voice ringing above all the others who was in charge. Another male, this one wearing a similar white uniform, but his had some sort of patch in the corner. Rion didn’t take the time to study it. Instead, he approached said male, doing his best to appear unintimidating.

The male’s sharp gaze locked on him. He looked Rion over then threw his arms up in agitation.

“Someone—” He paused, trying to will a tremor to his voice. He wasn’t sure he succeeded. “Someone requested drinks downstairs. They said to bring the ones reserved for the—afterparty.” It wasn’t a lie, he had overheard someone requesting drinks for an afterparty. Just a different one.

The male’s face paled and his voice lowered. “For the governor?” Rion nodded. “You’re certain?” Rion nodded again.

The male loosed a nervous sigh, then glanced toward someone in the back. Rion wasn’t sure who. He ran a hand through his hair, chewed his bottom lip. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck. “All right. Wait here.”

He disappeared through another door and emerged less than a minute later with a tray of bubbling drinks, an entire bottle of amber liquid, and half a dozen empty glasses. A small plate of desserts rested in the center.

“Have you attended one of their . . . events before?” Rion shook his head and furrowed his brow, doing his best to appear concerned by the idea. The male ran his hands through his hair again. “Right. Just keep your head down and do whatever they say. You should be fine.” Rion nodded and turned to leave, but the male gripped his arm. “Whateverthey say,” he emphasized. “They have certain . . . tastes.” His sympathetic gaze told Rion this male had been subjected to those tastes before. His stomach turned.

Rion made a show of swallowing hard. “I understand.”

The male gave him a grim nod, then gestured to follow him back out into the hall. They turned right and went straight for the newly built wall where a staircase had been years ago.

The male touched a side panel and pushed. The wall cracked open and slid to the side.

“Don’t touch anything,” the male warned. “Just stand in a corner until they arrive.” Rion only nodded, then the male closed the wall behind him, trapping Rion in nearly total darkness.

He waited for his eyes to adjust before venturing down the winding staircase. The very one he remembered.

A dim light appeared ahead, followed by another and another. Clearly mood lighting for things he had no intension of participating in.

Rion eyed the flutes and desserts. Others would have likely snuck one, but Rion didn’t dare. The gods only knew what strange concoctions Foley and his guests partook in.

Rion shuddered. At least he and Selina agreed on one thing: Neither wanted to be involved with anything that male had to offer.

At the base of the stairs, the walls elongated to reveal a large room with an inviting tone. A lush red sofa sat in the middle of the space with a thick rug laid out before it and two end tables on either side. An onyx coffee table stood atop thesoft rug. Someone had already lit the oil lamps and a few dozen candles scattered around the space.

Which meant he didn’t have a lot of time.

His eyes roamed over thick curtains, a fully stocked bar, a small fireplace with smoldering embers that added unnecessary heat to the room. His nose crinkled at the burning incense in the corner, a mixture of ylang ylang and sage.

Rion pulled back the curtains to reveal an uninviting hallway. The air inside was too stuffy for his liking.

He deposited the tray on the bar and studied the space again. Rion briefly rummaged through the small rooms and the desks within, but they were largely unused. One had a single piece of paper in a large drawer. He reentered the main room and began rifling through drawers, knocking on the sides of bookcases and shifting his weight across each floorboard in the event—a creak.

Rion stepped back and shifted his weight again. He stared at the thick rug beneath his feet.

No. It was too easy. Surely they wouldn’t put important documents in the middle of the main room. But then, if everyone was distracted and drugged—

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