Page 21 of A Fate so Cruel

“And if she’d had a partner, you’d be dead.” Rion slammed his sword down and cursed again. The maletsked. “No need for the language.”

Rion glared at Caol, then at Saoirse who was quietly laughing to herself. Caol, their teacher, helped her up and Saoirse dusted off her pants. “Almost only counts—”

“I know,” Rion interrupted her. So close. He’d never been so close to beating her and Caol, gods—Rion kicked a branch, snapping it beneath the force.

“Are you done throwing a tantrum, boy?”

“Don’t call me that,” Rion seethed.

“Then stop acting like one.”

“You did that on purpose.”

“And I’ll do it again until you realize there’s always more than one enemy on the field.Neverlet your guard down.”

Rion’s blood slowed. He drew in a breath and let the tension fall from his shoulders. Caol was right, of course, which only made the situation more infuriating. If he was ever going to beat Saoirse, he’d have to earn it.

He crossed the space separating him and Saoirse, trying not to limp from the pain radiating through his hip where Caol had basically thrown a small tree at him. “I had you.”

A bloody grin. “Maybe.”

Caol called, “Here, if you’re so confident,” Rion turned and caught the three sectional staff before it smacked him in the head. “Let’s see what you got.”

Rion grimaced but his pride wouldn’t let him back down, not as Caol dropped into his own stance, wooden staff in hand.

He’d only been working with the three sectional for a month. Long enough to know the basics, but not nearly long enough to perfect it. He still had bruises from last week and a tender knot on the back of his head to prove it.

Caol launched at him without warning. Rion stumbled back and raised the weapon, gritting his teeth from the force of impact. The chains linking the staff together rattled, and Rion swung the right section up aiming for Caol’s chin. The male spun his staff, effectively blocking the move, then brought up the other end and cracked Rion in the jaw again.

His teacher danced away, spinning his weapon in a taunt that had Rion’s blood racing all over again. Rion rubbed his jaw, fighting the pain and the rage that accompanied it. After six years as Rion’s tutor Caol knew exactly how to push his buttons and seemed to delight in it.

Rion gripped the weapon between his hands and summoned his magic. Caol’s eyes sparked with challenge and mischief.

Six years and Rion had excelled at everything Caol had thrown at him; an awkward weapon wasn’t going to stop him now. Rion launched forward again, remembering those first few months. They hadn’t had a smooth beginning. Not by a long shot.

The two wooden weapons collided and a loud crack rang through the air. The vibrations raced down his arms. Vines reached out to yank Rion’s feet out from under him, but he was ready and smothered the greenery in an instant.

Rion had outright refused to listen to the male in the beginning and he’d often snuck away to find Saoirse. An act that Saoirse had reprimanded him for every single time. There’d been tears and no shortage of tantrums, but when Caol warned Rion his actions could result in Saoirse’s death or imprisonment, he’d stopped.

Rion ducked, feeling the wind from the staff’s swing, and swept his leg at Caol’s feet. He knew the male would jump. Rion sent his magic racing upward, but as usual, Caol was ready.Caol’s magic whipped out and wrapped around the male’s wrist, yanking him away from Rion’s path.

Caol. He was the only one Rion saw for months at a time. Their bond was . . . interesting. The male had saved him on a few occasions. The male had killed for him and yet still kept his distance. Not that Caol was any warmer with Saoirse.

“Watch your feet,” his sister called. Too late, the vines broke through his swirling sand and grabbed his legs, pulling them out from under him. Rion’s head slammed against the ground and stars shot across his field of vision.

Adrenaline pulsed through him. He knew Caol was coming. The male never let up until he had a weapon, be it staff, sword, or knife, pressed against Rion’s throat. Just to prove to Rion he needed more training.

Not today.

Rion waited, counting the seconds. He heard the male’s feet sprinting through the grass. Scented the magic sneaking up on him. Rion tightened his grip on the end of the staff and just like he’d seen Caol do a hundred times, he whipped the weapon out like a viper.

It extended, aimed right for the male’s torso. Caol’s smirk told Rion it wouldn’t hit, but Rion didn’t expect it to. Rion’s magic was already around the wood, crawling up the shaft, and right before Caol blocked, Rion shot that magic out in one swift movement.

Caol’s eyes widened. The particles of sand merged together and slammed into Caol’s chest hard enough to send him careening backward. Caol didn’t land gracefully. He hit his backside and flipped over, grabbing his chest as he fought for breath.

Saoirse let out an audible gasp and stared wide eyed before bursting out laughing. “This is going down in history asmy favorite sparing session. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on your ass, Caol.”

Awhooshflew through the air and Rion didn’t have time to dodge as the end of Caol’s staff slammed into his stomach. Rion coughed and doubled over, letting the wooden staff clatter to the ground.

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