Page 148 of A Fate so Cruel

“If fate demands it.”

Alec glared at him, his gaze drifting to the bloody sheets on the bed. Saoirse stood between them, ready to intervene should Alec strike out.

“I never thought I’d see the day when my own sister stood against me.”

“Neither did I,” she said quietly, still keeping one hand on Rion’s shoulder. “Go rule your country, Alec. I’m sure you’ll find another adviser to fill my place.”

“I could have you tried for abandonment.”

Her gaze turned cold as she met Alec’s stare. “If you send anyone in here to put me or Rion in chains, you’ll discover exactly how ruthless I can be.”

“You wouldn’t kill your own people.”

Saoirse bared her fangs at him. “Try me.”

Alec opened his mouth to speak again, then decided against it. He glanced between the two of them. Locked eyes with Rion, then Saoirse. His jaw worked. “Fine.”

“Fine, what?” she demanded.

“No one will touch him and I’m giving you a one month leave to sort your shit out.”

“I want your word.”

Alec huffed. “I already said—”

“Your word, Alec. I’ll settle for nothing less.”

He met his sister’s gaze. “You have my word. I swear I will never send anyone after him again, directly or indirectly.” He sighed and his tone softened. “Now will you stay?”

She glanced back to Rion. “I’ll think about it during my leave.”

Alec nodded, stared at them again before pivoting on his heel and marching down the hall, his guards in his wake.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Rion pulled the towel down his neck then flung it onto the bed before slipping on his black pants. He stretched his arms overhead, feeling his taunt muscles lengthen. He’d just finished a round of morning exercises and determined himself fully recovered from his wounds.

Rion twisted in the mirror, staring at the fresh scars seated just above his hip bones. One on either side of his spine. His jaw clenched at the memory, but he refused to dwell on the emotions attached. He’d done enough of that in the last few weeks.

Thankfully, Alec never returned to his door and though Rion had told her to go away a number of times, Saoirse was a thorn in his side, constantly fussing.

She didn’t miss the way he flinched away from her touch. She’d asked about it, but he’d refused to answer. Touch felt . . . strange now. As if it were an invasion of his person.

He hated it. Hated that Se—Rion pushed her name down, grabbed his shirt, and pulled it over his head. He tested his magic. It had never failed him. Not once. Magic was something under his control and it would be the only thing he’d rely on from this point forward.

If Brónach wanted to treat him like a monster, then a monster is exactly what he’d become.

Rion buckled his belts and slid his freshly sharpened knives into place across his torso. A sword dangled at his side. More knives rested in his boot, against his back. They were the friends he’d carry with him. They were his only allies.

Saoirse still had her second stationed outside his door. The male bowed upon seeing Rion, and Rion let his magic glide over the mosaic rugs, dancing at the male’s feet, daring him tolash out. Saoirse had assured him the male wasn’t his enemy. Rion knew better than to believe it.

When Fin didn’t react Rion moved on, marching down the long hall.

Everyone backed away when they saw him coming. Some pressed their bodies against the walls while others slipped through unlocked doors.

He snarled at any who dared to meet his gaze and something strange in him relished their fear. Let them cower. They deserved nothing less. These were beings willing to murder a youngling for nothing more than being born different.

If they wanted to see a real monster, all they needed to do was look in a mirror.

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