Page 26 of A Fate so Cruel

His childhood friend. The one he’d been able to tell all his secrets to, whatever secrets they’d had at seven years old.

He’d been there when Rion’s mother had disappeared. Liam had comforted him, pulled him out of his room on more than one occasion. And here he was, standing right in front of him.

Did he risk talking to him? Would Liam listen when no one else had? Would he understand?

Rion’s hands trembled slightly as he pulled his hood back. The ball stopped moving. The two males stared at one another.

Rion waited for the smile to spread across Liam’s face, a familiar sight he’d longed for. He waited for Liam to rush forward and throw his arms around his shoulders and clasp him on the back. To ask where he’d been all this time and what had happened.

But Liam went unnaturally still. His eyes widened in recognition and when Rion dared a step forward, Liam stepped back.

A jolt of pain flared through Rion’s chest. The scent of magic sparked through the air, from both Liam and those behind him. One of the females clutched the arm of another. The acrid stench of fear drifted across the field.

Fine, it’s fine, Rion told himself. They just didn’t know yet.

Rion slowly lifted his palms up. “I’m not here to hurt anyone.” His voice wavered. His throat had gone dry. He could only imagine the stories they’d been told. Tales about a monster child who had murdered the High Lord and an entire unit of warriors in a matter of seconds. A ruthless killer.

It had been a mistake to isolate. He saw that now. No one had seen him in six years. Not since that bloody night. He was a stranger to everyone and now that he was almost an adult, they’d perceive him as even more of a threat.

Magic crawled at their feet. One of the females glanced around Rion as if trying to gauge whether she could make a run for it.

“What do you want?” Liam demanded, his voice stern. Rion didn’t miss the way the male had positioned himself in front of his friends. He was willing to protect them. Die for them.

“I just came to see the festival, then I heard you playing and—” And what? Did he think they’d just forget the stories and invite him over?

Liam’s jaw worked, but it was a female behind him that said, “You should leave.” Rion was pretty sure she’d meant it to sound like a threat.

Pain radiated through his chest when Liam didn’t answer. Rion’s magic stirred against his will and the seven scrambled back three paces, their fear exploding. Liam crouched, ready for a fight. Rion could hear his friend’s rapid heartbeat. The way his breathing had turned ragged.

He tried to get the magic under control. He begged it to obey him just this once, but the grains pulsed with his heartbeat. He tried and failed to take a steading breath. “I just wanted to talk.” They could still try, right? Liam might give him a chance to—“I have nothing to say to you.” The bite behind the words hit harder than a punch to the gut.

“Please,” Rion pleaded. “Just let me explain.”

The same female spoke up again. “Explain? You killed the High Lord!” Her voice shrieked and she visibly shook.

Liam didn’t react to her outburst. “Did you know when we were kids?” he asked. “Did you hide it?”

“No. I didn’t know until—” He trailed off, knowing confirming the events of that wretched night wouldn’t do him any favors. “I didn’t know.”

Liam’s lips parted as if he wanted to say more, but a new scent drifted across the field. Rion whipped his head around to find three males stalking toward them, their eyes fixated on Rion’s unobscured face.

Shit. Had they caught his scent? Recognized him? They had to be from the palace then. Fear snaked down Rion’s spine as he eyed their drawn weapons. Did Alec know he was here?

Rion backed away. He shouldn’t have come. He shouldn’t be trying to talk to his former friend, let alone be discovered by the palace guard. How many times had Caol scolded him for not paying attention?

His heart hammered in his chest. Three. He could handle three, right? Images of Caol putting him on his ass resurfaced and doubt pooled in his gut. Rion only had a small knife in his boot. He hadn’t thought to bring weapons into Nàdair. An oversight he was thoroughly regretting.

Always be prepared,Saoirse had once told him. Well, he certainly wasn’t prepared for this.

The tension fell from Liam’s shoulders and another sharp sting of pain cut through Rion’s chest. Liam wouldn’t help him. None of the seven would. In fact, they looked ready to join the warriors in bringing him down. If they did that—Rion’s breath came faster as panic rushed through him. His magic rose higher without his prompting and spun around his body as if readying to shield him from the oncoming attack.

Should he run? He might be faster, but one glance at the trees told Rion he’d be headed right toward a trap. The warriors would use the trees and overgrowth to their advantage. He wasn’t sure he could handle running, deflecting their magic, and ensuring his own didn’t kill the seven. He didn’t care about the three; if they chose to attack, they had it coming to them.

The warriors closed in with vines crawling across their bodies.

No choice. He had to go. It was either that or face all ten of them at once. Rion stepped toward the tree line, but right before he took off, the male warriors lunged straight for the seven.

It took him too long to process their actions, the reason, the surprise, and chaos. In seconds, one of the females’ severed heads hit the ground with a sickening thud.

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