Page 25 of A Fate so Cruel

A female’s laughter rang through the air, burying one memory for another. He wondered what his mother would make of his life now. Would she try to appease the gods and kill him as well, or would she have hidden him away like Saoirse? Perhaps she wouldn’t have done either. She’d been their High Lady, still was as far as most were concerned. Perhaps his life would have unfolded differently were she still around.

Saoirse had never stopped searching. He’d accompanied her on a few missions, but the trail always ended in crippling disappointment.

Voices grew louder and Rion stepped into the soft light of the street. He was thankful for the brisk air; it made keeping his hood up comfortable and kept any onlookers from turning his way. He knew to be careful. He wouldn’t put Caol at risk of treason, nor would Rion lead anyone back to the male’s home.

With a pounding heart, Rion entered the crowd.

Streamers and hand-crafted ornaments hung from the rooftops and wrapped along the railings and ropes above. Magic sparked through the air and Rion saw more than one citizen manipulate the flowers into full bloom. The very air teamed with energy.

Rion slowed his breathing and let himself get lost in the clamoring sounds. The laughing children. The exclamations of surprise. The chimes shifting with the breeze.

Vendors smiled at him, holding out their wares for him to view. He even purchased a cinnamon sweet and found himself blushing furiously when the female preparing it brushed his hand with her own.

Rion quickly retreated and found a quiet corner where he could eat and watch the festivities. Several held hands. Others laughed with what Rion could only assume was their family.

No one looked twice at the male lingering on the outskirts. It almost made Rion want to remove his cloak and join them. Perhaps he could ask the female running the pastry stand if she’d like to take a stroll. Rion imagined the conversation. The way she’d throw her head back and laugh. But even if the citizens didn’t recognize him, the officials would. Maybe. They hadn’t seen him since his father’s death.

The pastry turned to ash in his mouth and Rion chucked the last of it into the trash.

Who was he kidding? Even here, amongst hundreds of Fae, he was still alone.

Memories swam through him as he wandered the open street.

A petite female tended to a tree and Rion recalled a time when his mother had coaxed a tiny sapling into full bloom. A youngling pulled on his mother’s pants and the female picked him up and balanced him on her shoulders. His mother used to do that, too.

Then Rion watched a couple pass by, the female clinging to the male’s arm. The pair smiled at one another. She blushed and Rion turned away. His stomach soured and he fought a burning sensation in his throat as he turned from the festival altogether.

Maybe he shouldn’t have come after all. He was just tormenting himself, pretending to have a life that was never meant to be. Removing his hood and joining them would only paint a target on his back.

Rion raced from the busy street. He kept well away from the palace, but instead of marching straight back to Caol’s, Rion took a detour toward his old school.

The trees thinned before parting to reveal open fields where he’d learned to play ball, made new friends, and discovered what it meant to be a High Lord’s son. He wasn’t always a favorite among his peers.

He recalled his first lesson in combatives and smirked when Liam’s young face came to mind. They hadn’t been friends at first. Not until Rion punched another child in the stomach for making fun of Liam’s mother.

They’d been inseparable afterward.

Crickets chirped as he moved along the perimeter. An owl hooted in the distance then laughter floated toward him as if carried on a phantom wind.

Rion tilted his head to listen. He’d expected the area to be deserted, especially with the festival in full swing, but seven Fae raced one another through the tall grass, all chasing a ball.

One landed a hard kick, sending the ball flying, and the others exclaimed in excitement. Rion drew closer without meaning to. Four males. Three females. He watched as one fell on his backside and the others laughed before pulling the male back to his feet.

Rion’s lips parted. This—these young Fae—he was staring at everything he’d ever wanted. It was as though the gods were taunting him, dangling his dreams just out of reach.

He glanced toward the trees on the other side of the playing field then back to the laughing faces.

Too close. He’d drifted far too close.

He should leave. It would be better to turn and disappear before they ever saw him, but the tallest male in their group glanced his way and Rion’s entire body went rigid.

He was taller now. Older. He’d transformed from a slightly chubby youngling into a lean soon-to-be warrior. His feet weren’t too big for his body anymore and his ears weren’t overly pointed like they’d been in childhood.

The male squinted, tossing the ball from one hand to another as he surveyed the newcomer. The other six closed in, curious.

Rion swallowed hard.

Liam.

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