Page 162 of A Fate so Cruel

Rion took all of two steps before the female whirled around. He didn’t know whether she’d scented him or heard his footsteps.

Her eyes widened, then she hit her knees before pressing her head to the tiled floor. His smile faded.

“I-Is there something I can do for you, My Lord?”

He debated leaving. Perhaps he shouldn’t interfere. It had been centuries and no one else ever had. But he was so tired of the gods not taking responsibility for the beings they’d created. He was tired of seeing so many suffer.

“How would you feel about freedom?”

The female didn’t lift her head. Tales of his reputation had spread far and wide, even beyond Brónach’s borders. He’d done some traveling to other countries. Visited their major cities and villages.

Everyone knew The Demon’s name.

But he’d never laid a hand on a slave.

“I am your slave, My Lord.” Technically, she was. Every slave within the palace walls was to answer the Lords and Ladies first.

Another slave entered behind and quickly turned around. Rion watched the door. He couldn’t disclose his plans here, not if he wanted to keep them from Alec and the council.

Rion weighed his options and for the first time in a long while he felt his heart lighten with something he dared to call hope.

He was known as a monster, but he could become so much more. And he could use the shadows to do it.

If the world didn’t want to give him a purpose, he’d give himself one.

“I want you to finish cleaning your hand, then meet me outside the door.”

“I can finish later if it pleases you, My Lord.”

He grimaced. “I don’t want blood everywhere. Clean your hand and bandage it well.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

It took the female less than five minutes. She entered the hall, glanced around, then headed straight for him, her head bowed and eyes averted. Rion asked for her hand and inspected it thoroughly before turning toward the door.

“Follow me.”

No one looked twice as a slave followed Rion outside the ballroom and down the hall. He scented her fear and prayed she’d agree to his spur-of-the-moment plan.

Rion led her to the study and held the door open to gesture her inside. He checked to be sure no one had followed before closing it behind him.

The room was . . . foreign. He hadn’t stepped foot inside since the last night he and Saoirse had played chess together. It had been decades. His sister had kept it mostly the same. She’d replaced a few pieces of furniture, and their old chess table stood in a corner with a layer of dust covering the glass pieces. Pain blossomed in his chest anew.

Rion swallowed it down and turned to face the half-breed. Her pulse was racing.

Rion clenched his jaw. “For the sake of clarity. You’re not here for . . . entertainment.” Her gaze lifted a bit. “I’m not interested in such things.” Tension seemed to fall from her shoulders.

Rion pulled out a chair and set it before her. “Sit, if you’d like.” She eyed it for several long seconds, then obeyed. Rion separated himself and stood on the opposite side of the room. He craned his head to listen, just to be sure no one had snuck up behind them.

“Freedom,” he began. “How far would you go to obtain it?”

The female looked at him, opened her mouth once, then closed it. “I don’t understand, My Lord.”

“It’s not a trick question. I want to know how far you’d be willing to go.”

The female fell silent again. She looked at her hand, flexed her fingers, and winced from the pain. Rion let her think, but she was quiet for so long that he wondered if she’d answer at all.

Then finally, in a voice so soft he could barely hear it, “As far as I need to.” She glanced up at him through her lashes, fear written plainly across her face. “I’d do anything, but only if my family came with me.”

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