Page 33 of A Fate so Cruel

Rion’s gaze slowly lifted and Caol looked away. The male never looked away. He’d never shown shame for any of his actions. Even those during the war.

“I had a nephew that—well, he was like you. It was centuries ago, but—” his jaw worked. “The memory of that day still haunts my nightmares.”

“You killed him.”

It wasn’t a question but Caol shook his head. “A guard did, I just . . . didn’t do anything to stop it. That night . . . it changed everyone involved.” Is that why he chose to live in isolation? Was Caol punishing himself?

“His parents, my sister, are long gone from this world. As are my other nieces and nephews. The war wasn’t kind to our family.”

Silence fell over the space again. The rain picked up. “Now, will you please come inside so we don’t have to sit out here and let the rain add to our misery?”

Rion debated again with another long look through the trees. He should go, despite Caol’s confession. He should turn away and never look back.

But Rion walked down that familiar stone path and followed his teacher inside.

The male made him a plate without asking and set it on the table. Rion hung his pack and cloak up, shoved out of his boots, then settled across from Caol in his usual seat.

Silence was a heavy blanket over the space. Suffocating, really.

They ate without speaking. Rion showered and changed into clean clothes, then curled up on his usual cot in the corner.

Caol sat before the fireplace, staring at the embers as if they contained the answer to a centuries-old question. He’d seena youngling killed before his eyes and he’d done nothing to stop it.

Rion raised his hand and glanced at his palm. The movement drew Caol’s gaze a moment.

He never thought he’d kill or be part of anyone’s war. His mother had always shielded him from the harsh things in life. But she couldn’t shield him now. His reality had turned into a battle. One that was just beginning. One he’d likely never escape.

Rion rolled over, turning his back to Caol and closed his eyes. He could feel the male’s gaze. Caol had possessed a strange look on his face throughout the night that made Rion wonder if he’d be better off outside.

He took another breath and set his fears aside. Caol had made a promise to Saoirse, and breaking that promise would mean tainting his honor as a Fae male. He wouldn’t throw away decades of trust. Not after he’d put in so much time.

Rion hoped.

Chapter Eight

Things with Caol didn’t return to normal and after a month, the lack of normalcy was . . . grating.

Caol refused to train him. He always offered an excuse and was gone more often than Rion was accustomed. When Rion had questioned him on the matter, Caol had simply said he was dealing with a few personal matters. Rion had asked Saoirse about it, but she didn’t know anything about Caol’s personal life. Caol seemed to be avoiding her as well.

Saoirse was gone more often, too. She and the council were busy dealing with rogue factions that had risen up against their brother. According to the elders, it was normal to challenge a new High Lord’s authority. To test him, whatever that meant.

Rion never left the mountain side. He cleaned, tended to the gardens, and trained almost every hour of the day.

It wasn’t enough.

His mind was restless, and living alone was far more difficult than Rion had previously imagined. Saoirse brought him stacks of books once a week. He flew through them, learning an assortment of new things from building to chiseling characters from wood, an activity that quickly grew into a hobby.

Rion sighed and let his hands fall lax. Maybe this was part of his punishment from Caol. That and cleaning the cabin from top to bottom. Perhaps this was Caol’s way of teaching him exactly what complete isolation would feel like.

Saoirse visited Liam for questioning a few more times, but the male never talked, whether from fear or some other motivation, none knew.

Using a knife, Rion chipped another small piece off the block of wood. He’d already fashioned the base of what he hoped would be a small body. The Fairy Folk. Caol would appreciate their likeness in his garden. Or maybe Rion would give it to thelittle creatures just to see how they’d react. A smile crept to his face at the thought.

He was sitting beneath one of the apple trees, listening to the bees buzzing between the rotted bits of fruit when Caol appeared. Rion lifted his gaze, then shot to his feet at the scent of Caol’s magic. The male hadn’t even bothered to go inside first. Had something happened? His mind immediately went to Saoirse. Caol drew his sword and Rion’s throat went dry as he stepped back.

“You’re unarmed?” Rion nodded slowly. Caoltsked. “Get your weapons and be quick about it.”

Rion’s heart jolted, but he didn’t argue. The two hadn’t had a sparring session since his return, but Caol seemed . . . different today. Agitated. Maybe something had happened in Nàdair.

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