Page 27 of A Fate so Cruel

Two in their group screamed. Another vomited. Liam and two others tore their magic from the earth and stepped closer to their comrades.

The males didn’t stop. A blade whined as it was unsheathed and Rion watched in horror as it cut through the young male who’d just vomited. With tears in his eyes, the male extended his arm, trying to shield himself only for his severed limb to go sailing through the air. A swift flick of the wrist and a blade was in the young male’s throat.

The male sank to his knees, eyes wide and pleading.

Two Fae who were hardly more than younglings dead in an instant.

They started for Liam next and Rion moved, his magic with him. Reason and doubt left him. If he didn’t have a blade, then he’d just have to take one.

Rion charged one of the male assailants, fury spurring him forward. Rion shot his magic out, hoping to catch one in the chest and be done with him, but a thick tree trunk erupted from the ground. Bark exploded on impact and Rion ducked around the small branches reaching out, all aiming for vital points along his body.

Rion’s magic slammed into the tree again, shattering it, and he closed in on the male fast. His fingers grazed the hilt of a blade along the male’s belt, but the male spun away too quickly for Rion to grab it.

Sharp pain shot through his upper arm and he cursed under his breath. The male angled his weapon and struck out again, but Rion dove away, his eyes trying and failing to track the male’s quick movements.

A vine wrapped around Rion’s left wrist, wrenching him down so hard his head collided with the earth. Stars blinded him and he barely had enough time to roll away from the male’s angled blade.

Rion let his magic rip from the ground, severing the tightly coiled vine from around his wrist before shoving everything toward the warrior in blind fury. The male tried to duck, but Rion summoned the earth from beneath the male’s feet. The warrior tottered and before he could regain his balance, Rion crushed his body.

He heard the bones grind, felt the male’s chest cave in.

Less than a second passed before the next male was upon him, snarling and seething with anger.

Rion tried to jump away, but the male threw a blade aimed right at Rion’s thigh. Sand deflected it, but the shift in attention cost him.

A knife plunged straight into the top of Rion’s shoulder and the force of the impact sent Rion back to his knees. The male’s hand shot out for his throat, but Rion grabbed his wrist only to feel the sting of the male’s fangs in his skin.

The male head-butted him, then did it again and again. Anger flared through Rion’s body, pulsing with his magic. He bucked the male off, then rolled to his knees. Rion snapped his arms up, dragging his magic with him, and wrapped a tendril of particles around the male’s throat before crushing his windpipe.

The male’s body fell limp, and Rion let his arms fall, sucking down breath after breath. Specks raced across his vision, but another cry had Rion spinning to find one of the females kneeling in the dirt, her gaze vacant as she stared at two bodies. Liam was screaming her name, begging her to move.

It hit Rion then just how young they were. How much more training he’d received due to Caol’s and Saoirse’s insistence. Because it would be a necessary component to ensure his survival.

But not theirs. Rion stared at the bodies, their blood mixing with the dirt. Here, in the city of Nàdair, citizens were supposed to live in peace. The redwoods created animpenetrable defense. The Fae weren’t supposed toneedto fight for their lives.

And yet here they were. And Rion had the power and training to defend them. He was the only one who could.

Liam deflected a direct blow, but he was too slow to react to the knife heading straight for his gut. With a surge of adrenaline, Rion’s magic propelled him forward.

Not Liam. He couldn’t lose him, even if the young male wanted nothing more to do with him.

Liam howled in pain when the blade pierced his flesh, but it was dwarfed by the roar that escaped Rion. Sand shot out and locked the male’s arm in place, stopping all movement before he could do irreparable damage. Rion crushed the limb with ease, then sent the male flying.

He didn’t hesitate this time. He was on the male in less than a second, ready to deliver the finishing blow—the warrior pivoted on the ball of his foot and slashed at Rion’s stomach with a hidden blade.

It sliced through the fabric of his shirt and Rion cursed at the red line that traveled up his torso. He ignored the pain. Ignored the desire for self-preservation. The male had left himself wide open. He knew it too, judging from the wide look of panic on his face. Rion gripped the hilt of his knife then plunged the blade straight into the assailant’s throat. He twisted then shoved the male back.

He didn’t rise again.

Blood pounded in Rion’s ears as he struggled to catch his breath. It had only been a few minutes, yet it had felt like a lifetime. The events played out, seeming to move in slow motion. The dead Fae. The warriors. Their movements.

A wet cough had Rion spinning.

It wasn’t Liam, thank the gods. Another male lay on the ground with a blade protruding from his chest. Rion grimaced. It was too close to the heart and that heart was slowing. Fluttering.

Thick tears rolled down Liam’s face. Liam reached for the protruding weapon.

“Don’t pull it out,” Rion warned. Liam’s sharp gaze snapped up and he snarled. Rion softened his voice. “He’ll bleed out if you do.”

---