Page 14 of A Fate so Cruel

“Saoirse?” She looked like she wanted to say something, but her mouth didn’t form the words. Their father hadn’t moved either. Had he done something wrong? Saoirse looked as if he’d just broken something precious on her bookcase. Which he’d only done once. A porcelain horse that a friend had given her when she was in grade school.

Their father’s breathing accelerated and Rion watched his fists clench. A muscle worked in his jaw. He stepped forward, but Saoirse grabbed his arm. “It’s fine,” she said. “It’s just Rion.”

His father didn’t pull away. He simply stared at Rion. Stared long enough that Rion’s own heart began pounding. A warning bell echoed in his head, telling him he should leave. Run. But this was his father. And Saoirse. There wasn’t any—the plant beside Rion came alive and grew taller, towering above Rion’s small body. Rion glanced at his father again and stumbled back. His magic reacted to his confused distress, moving in a frenzied pattern he couldn’t control.

His father’s throat bobbed, then the plant lashed out. Rion tried to duck, but a stem grazed his cheek and blood trickled down the side of Rion’s face. He fell to his knees and scrambled back toward the bookcase.

“Father!” Saoirse screamed.

“I—I didn’t break anything,” Rion promised. His father had been sterner lately, but he’d never lashed out. He’d never physically injured any of his children unless they were sparing. Rion was still too young to spar with the adults though. He—another plant behind Rion burst to life and shot toward him. Its green branches wrapped around his wrist, squeezing tight. Rion’s magic lashed out, cutting the plant in half. Rion pushed away from it, cornering himself. Saoirse lunged for their father then. She grabbed the High Lord’s arm and wrenched him around to face her.

“Stop it,” she screamed. “What are you doing?”

Their father glared at her, but somehow it seemed more sad than angry. “You know what he is.”

“He’s my brother,” she yelled, still holding their father’s wrist. “He’s your son.” Rion thought he saw a flash of pain on their father’s face. His gaze flickered toward Rion again, then to the dirt that looked as if it were shaking.

The High Lord of Brónach shook his head. “The gods demand it, Saoirse.”

“Then damn the gods.”

He growled at his daughter and tried to shake her off, but Saoirse’s own magic sprang to life, pouring from the pockets around her waist before wrapping around his body.

The room exploded. The planks in the floor ripped apart and every plant in the office shot toward Saoirse so fast Rion could hardly see them strike. Their father freed himself, then sent his daughter flying into the bookcase across the room. Rion heard the breath leave her body before the vase behind her hit the floor and shattered.

Cold, dark eyes turned to him. Rion clambered to his feet and backed away until his spine collided with the shelf behind him. He had nowhere to go. No where he could run.

Saoirse groaned and slowly pushed herself up. Blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. Her temple. Her arms where thorns had bitten into her skin.

Fear spiked through him. The world spun. He was going to be sick.

“I didn’t touch anything,” Rion tried repeating. “I—I—I—”

“I know,” their father said. His throat bobbed, but his magic only rose higher. “I’m sorry.”

Rion’s eyes darted toward the plants dancing around their father like obedient serpents. They sat there for a time, the High Lord and his son staring at one another. Then the vines moved. Rion clenched his eyes shut and threw his arms up. A wet gasp. Heavy breathing.

Rion cracked an eye open to find a vine protruding from the middle of their father’s throat. Saoirse stood behind him, breath heaving. Blood dripped and their father tried and failed to cough.

Rion screamed. His magic exploded with the sound spinning around him in a ferocious storm that Rion was certain would tear him apart.

Books flew off the shelves and shredded. Vases and trinkets shattered. Then he vomited all over the floor.

Their father hit his knees before his head collided with the broken floor. Vacant eyes stared back at Rion. He knew what that meant. Knew what all the blood meant, too.

Their father was—was—Rion heaved again then gasped for breath, clawing at his throat. It wouldn’t come. He collapsed and his chest felt as if something were pressing down on him. He might as well have been submerged under water. His vision blurred at the edges and his heart pounded in his ears.

Not real, he told himself. This wasn’t real. Any minute now, Saoirse would hear him screaming and come to his room. She’d wake him, hold him close, and whisper words of comfort. She’d take him back to her room and make him a mug of tea or chocolate. She’d—she’d—But Saoirse was right in front of him, staring at their father with a hollow look in her eyes. Her hands were on the floor before her. Tears streamed down her face.

Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real.

Their father’s personal guard blasted through the door and stopped at the sight of their High Lord on the floor in a puddle of his own blood. Their gazes all lifted to Rion and the magic surrounding his body. Rion didn’t want it anymore. He wished it would go away. Leave him alone.

“Demon,” one whispered. Saoirse’s head lifted at the word. Rion met the warrior’s gaze and the male stepped back. As if he were afraid.

This was the same male who’d killed on Rion’s behalf just under a year ago. Back when assassins had entered the study with the intent to murder him and his family.

Back when their mother had disappeared without a trace.

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