Page 173 of A Fate so Cruel

“And you?” he asked. “Are you willing to forgive so easily?”

A flame flickered behind those blue eyes. Eyes that reminded Rion of the rivers circling their beautiful city. “I will do a great many things for the sake of freedom. And to be fair,” she eyed the bracelets around her wrists, then the blanket still draped over her body. “You did make an effort to ensure I’m comfortable.” She rolled her neck and winced. “Mostly.”

Rion grimaced. “I’m sorry for striking you. You surprised me and I thought—well, you’re a High Lady and I didn’t exactly want to be crippled for the rest of my life.”

“Smart on your part.”

Rion stared out the window, watching the swirls of snow drift by. If Alec had any spies listening in, then his brother would know of his involvement with the slaves soon enough, anyway. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair again.

“Just . . . give me a minute.”

“I’ll be here.”

Rion eyed her and smiled slightly at the humor in her tone. She was serious. About everything.

He walked into the small bathroom and splashed water on his face before leaning against the counter.

Freedom. Not just for the slaves, but for himself. A chance to be something more than just a feared weapon.

She was a High Lady. She had the authority and power to declare him anything she wished. And if the former slaves vouched for him, too . . . could his actions have very well ensured his own freedom? Would he get the life he’d always dreamed about? To be able to interact with others and walk the streets without worrying about his safety?

He splashed more water on his face, then looked into the old mirror hanging over the vanity. Rion studied those familiar eyes. The eyes of his mother.

If he ever saw her again, would she be proud of him? Could he make her proud by doing this?

Rion used his sleeve to wipe the moisture from his face and jolted from a loud noise in the main room. He sighed. She’d promised to be there but hadn’t promised not to escape.

Rion pulled his magic around his body, just in case, and opened the door.

The entire world he’d just fabricated shattered before his eyes.

He ran, moving faster than he ever thought his body capable, and slid to his knees at Lillian’s side.

Her wide eyes locked with his and he cupped the long slice across her throat with one hand.

“No,” Rion breathed the word, praying he could make it true. “No, no, no.”

Blood leaked from between his fingers and spilled out onto the floor. She reached for his face, for the tears forming, but her hand fell limp. The light faded from her eyes. Rion ripped her bonds away and pulled her against his chest, still clutching the fatal wound along her throat.

Less than a second. A heartbeat. A breath. That’s how long it had taken for the hope in his heart to shrivel and die.

The fleeting plans were gone. A new life for himself and others. Gone.

Her final breath left her lips, then a collective gasp sounded from the open door. Rion glanced up to find three of Brónach’s warriors peering inside. They looked at his hand, the sand snaking across the floor, the dead female in his arms who was meant to be his charge.

Fear filled the entire cabin and they backed away, staring at one another as if they didn’t know what to do next.

Rion looked down at Lady Lillian, then used his other hand to close her eyes. His body shook with rage and grief, but Rion forced himself to focus. He scented the air. Someone had managed to sneak inside. Somehow, they’d gotten past his guard. He hadn’t heard a thing.

There weren’t footprints and they hadn’t bothered to leave the knife.

Rion tried to calm the blood pulsing in his ears. He scented the air again—there. It was faint. Just a trace of shadow. Another minute and he might have missed it altogether.

Fiadh.

A shadow weaver.

Rion breathed it in again. Male. He hadn’t bathed in days and he smelled too much like flames and the mountain to be anything else.

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