Page 17 of A Fate so Cruel

“If the High Lord is dead, then Alec is going to need you.”

Saoirse shook her head again. “I can’t face him after—he won’t understand, either. I have to leave.” She looked at Rion. “We have to leave.”

“Saoirse.” That commanding voice again. “I live in isolation for a reason. My views often don’t align with those of others. I am loyal to my High Lord, but I am also loyal to his children. So I’ll ask you again. What happened?”

She clutched Rion a little tighter. “You’ll hurt him.”

“Hurt who?” His voice held an edge of impatience.

Her voice wavered. “Rion.” His sister pulled him impossibly tighter and he had to push against her to breathe. Rion watched the male carefully now as he assessed the pair of them.

“Why would I—” The male stopped talking. His eyes widened and Rion followed his gaze to the magic stirring along the rug at their feet. The particles rose up, circling Rion’s legs, then his torso, and finally his arms.

Rion tried to stop it, but it was just as slippery as it’d been before. He had no control. None, and Saoirse was sitting right next to him. Would it hurt her by accident like it had the guards?

A lump rose in Rion’s throat.

The male’s dark brown eyes locked with Rion’s. He scented the air again, seeming to take in everything around the pair seated in his living room.

Saoirse started crying again, but her arms were still around him as if she could protect him from the world.

“Just one night,” she promised again, “and you’ll never see us again. Please.” He’d never heard his sister beg for anything. Many described her as proud, sometimes arrogant in the way the Fae were known to be arrogant.

Rion’s magic moved faster as his breathing increased, his heart rate with it.

The male’s voice was a near whisper when he said, “Your father tried to kill him.” It wasn’t a question, but Saoirse nodded anyway.

“I thought he’d see it coming. I just wanted to stop him. I didn’t mean—” She buried her head in Rion’s chest and her shoulders shook with uncontrollable sobs.

Rion locked eyes with the male. “The others weren’t her fault.”

The male’s eyes narrowed. “Others?”

“The ones always around Father.”

“His personal guard?”

“His magic,” Saoirse said, her voice weak. “It reacted when they attacked him. He was just defending himself.”

The male eyed the grains still floating through the air. They jerked in agitation.

“I won’t hurt either of you,” he assured. “You can put your magic away.”

Rion sniffed the air, searching for the lie. He knew how to identify them now. Saoirse’s head lifted, her eyes wide as if surprised.

“I—I don’t know how,” he admitted.

“Start by taking a deep breath. Calm yourself.” Rion hesitated and met Saoirse’s gaze for reassurance. She nodded and Rion did as instructed. As his mother had taught him. The strange new pulse in his body slowed, the particles with it. He watched them drift back to the rug before settling into the fibers.

The male’s eyes flickered with a hint of surprise before he could hide it. “Good.” He sat back again, observing the pair before returning his gaze to the fire.

Rion’s skin itched suddenly and he was so, so tired. He glanced at his hands. He’d . . . killed someone. Several someones. How many had there been? Five? Six? And then Saoirse. Saoirse had killed their father.

Rion looked at his sister. Large bags had formed beneath her eyes and the darkness made her look like the painting in their father’s study that had always made him sad. He didn’t want Saoirse to be sad.

“Rion.” He jumped at the male’s voice. “I have a question for you.” Rion waited. “How far are you willing to go to protect your sister?” Saoirse’s sharp gaze turned toward the male. She looked him up and down.

“I’d do anything for her.” He’d already killed, even if he hadn’t meant to. How much worse could it get?

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