Page 15 of A Fate so Cruel

The male drew his sword. Aimed it at Rion’s chest.

“Stop,” Saoirse pleaded, her voice breaking. They didn’t listen. Their magic rose. His sister stumbled to her feet, but another warrior grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her back. She fought, screaming and kicking as they tried to tear her away from the room. Four males had their hands on her and were doing everything in their power to contain her magic.

The remaining three rushed Rion at once and he watched the scene unfold in slow motion. Their father on the floor dead. His sister fighting, not for herself, but for him. The males who looked at him with malice when they’d once held him in high regard.

Then something in him snapped.

Rion’s magic exploded through the room. He didn’t know how to control it. Didn’t know if it would help, but the vines—they vanished—no, they were shredded apart, left as nothing more than tiny bits of green that dropped to the floor.

The dirt spun impossibly faster. Rion threw his arms out and the magic responded, shooting toward them. But where Rion had meant to push them back, to give him and Saoirse time to escape, it . . . obliterated them instead.

Their skin peeled away from their bones. Their screams filled his ears and the males clawed at their bodies as if they could fight the particles ripping through them from within.

Rion didn’t understand. He tried to stop it. He tried to reel the magic back, but it wouldn’t listen. It just kept moving until the warriors were nothing more than heaps of flesh on the broken ground next to his father.

Rion’s body shook. His head spun. Another male appeared in the doorway, took one look at the scene, then raced away from the room, leaving the acrid tang of fear in his wake.

Rion looked at his hands. They weren’t covered in blood, but he felt dirty.

“Rion.” His sister’s voice cracked, but Rion couldn’t tear his gaze away from his hands or the sand circling his fingers. She moved, standing. “Rion.” He slowly looked up and met those familiar green eyes. Her cheeks were red and tear stained.

“I—I didn’t mean—” A sob tore from his throat, then Saoirse held out her arms. Rion’s magic fell, as if he’d let go of everything as he ran to her. His feet splattered through blood, but he didn’t look at it and instead buried his face in the crook of his sister’s neck as she scooped him into her arms.

Saoirse held him close, her own body trembling just as much as his.

Rion didn’t know how she found the strength to stand again, but she took a steadying breath and did it anyway. One of her hands cradled the back of his head while the other held him close. Rion didn’t watch as she inched from the room then raced down the hall. He didn’t look as she exited the palace, nor when they passed through a crack in Nàdair’s redwood trees.

Alarms began blaring through the city, but they were already beyond the border, sprinting uphill toward the mountain.

Saoirse only slowed long enough to catch her breath before she was trotting again. Rion tried not to listen to the sobs that echoed through his sister. Tried not to focus on the scent of blood that wafted off their clothes.It never happened. It never happened. It never happened.

Wake up, he kept telling himself.

The alarm bells echoed in the distance, fading more and more with every passing step.

Rion never looked up.

He hoped that by hiding in his sister’s tunic the world would shift and everything would just disappear. Maybe they’d return to that morning when their father’s stern voice hadinstructed Saoirse to not let Rion eat too many sweets. Or when he’d told them not to be out too late.

But the world remained the same.

Rion clutched his sister’s sleeve tighter. She did the same, holding her little brother as if he were her lifeline. He should be walking. He was too big to be carried around like a little kid. But Rion didn’t think his body would move even if he wanted it to.

Minutes passed that felt like hours. Days. The sirens were barely a whisper now. His body calmed, stopped shaking altogether, and an overwhelming exhaustion settled through him. He wondered if Saoirse felt the same. If she did, she didn’t show it.

Rion finally lifted his head. Darkness surrounded them, save for a silver of moonlight that filtered through the trees. Movement from the corner of his eye had Rion’s heart rate spiking all over again, wondering if more warriors from their father’s personal guard had pursued them, but a second glance told Rion it was only the Fairy Folk.

The small creatures kept their distance, their beady eyes glinting in the moonlight.

Right. It was the solstice. Their father—he’d died on the solstice. It was a day that was supposed to be sacred to Fae and Fairy Folk alike, but now—Rion swallowed hard.

Saoirse rubbed his back in soothing strokes but didn’t speak. She just kept pushing onward, determination replacing her earlier fear and uncertainty.

He couldn’t see the city lights anymore. Not even the glow of them through the thick trees.

Rion laid his head back against Saoirse’s shoulder, refusing to reach for the magic that continued to pulse beneath his skin. He never wanted to touch it again.

It seemed only moments later that his sister slowed. She was probably tired. Rion pushed up and said, “I can walk.”

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