Page 34 of A Fate so Cruel

He returned quickly and followed Caol deeper into the forest.

They never sparred next to the male’s home, just in case their magic got out of hand. Rion would hate to have to rebuild the entire cabin from the ground up.

Caol stopped then spun. Rion stepped back again. Something in his face was . . . off. His heart beat too fast and Rion swore the male’s eyes were rimmed with red. Surely he couldn’t have been crying. Rion scented the air, searching for any signs of alcohol. The male rarely indulged. Perhaps he just hadn’t slept well.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rion hedged, feeling more than a little awkward at prying.

“No.” Caol’s face turned to stone then. Indifferent. He dropped into a stance and Rion mirrored the movement. “We haven’t spared in a while. Show me you haven’t gotten lazy.”

Rion rolled his neck and grinned. He could still smell Caol’s magic. If he used it, then Rion would do the same.

Caol moved. He was as fast as lighting and struck harder than a battering ram. Rion gritted his teeth and barely held his ground. All right then, no holding back.

He pivoted, but Caol was there to thwart the movement, knocking Rion off balance. Rion grunted and spun away before repositioning himself. Caol allowed it, then the two lunged for one another again.

Fast. Caol was so fast. Faster than the males Rion had killed a month ago. More skilled too, or maybe the adrenaline in the moment had just helped him focus. Instinct had kicked in and those very instincts were usually the thing that kept Fae alive on the battlefield.

He could do it again, let his instincts take over and finally beat the male that had taught him everything. Maybe then Caol would show some pride—a blade flashed and Rion faltered. He barely had time to register it as the knife’s tip sliced across his right cheek.

Rion scrambled back and touched the stinging wound only for it to come away bloody. His eyes widened.

Never once in all their training sessions had Caol drawn blood. Not deliberately. Not like this.

Rion looked up at him. The male wasn’t even sorry for it. “What’s wrong?” Caol taunted. “I thought you were ready to be out in the real world?”

It clicked then. Rion had been right. Hewasbeing punished and this was an extension of that punishment. An extreme extension. Caol intended to show Rion exactly what he’d be up against if he tried to leave again. Caol was probably getting his anger out, too. Anger for the younglings who’d died and anger for whatever personal matters he’d faced recently.

This wasn’t a sparring match. It was a test.

Rion swallowed and summoned his own magic, letting it rise up and around his body. He watched Caol’s magiccrawl from beneath the forest’s underbrush, snaking across the ground as if alive.

Alive and furious.

Vines, small plants, bushes, and trees all answered Caol’s call.

Uncertainty flooded Rion’s body and warning bells kept echoing in his head. Something wasn’t right. Caol was too angry. Too . . . something. They shouldn’t be sparing. Saoirse should be here to monitor at the very least, just to ensure the male didn’t push things too far.

But how many times had Rion resented them for treating him like a child? Isn’t this what he’d been asking for? The chance to be treated like an adult? Like an equal?

Rion had witnessed the brutality of Saoirse and Alec’s sparing sessions beneath their father’s watchful gaze. They’d often left the ring with bruises, scrapes, and the occasional broken bone.

This was Brónach. They weren’t a weak nation and it was time for Rion to stop acting like a youngling and begin the transition of becoming a full-fledged warrior.

“Finished day dreaming?” Caol asked, impatience in his tone.

Rion drew in a steadying breath and calmed the pulse in his veins. He let the magic flow through him like the current of a river. Strong and unyielding.

Rion locked eyes with Caol, then lunged.

The two males’ weapons sang through the trees as metal bit against metal. Sand and dirt and greenery collided and exploded on impact, decorating the forest in bits of rock and debris.

Caol moved impossibly faster. Rion tried to pivot around another strike but found himself tumbling to the ground instead.

Caol didn’t hesitate. Vines shot out of the soft earth and forced Rion to roll away as they struck the ground with lethal force.

He looked to his teacher, willing the male to afford him a moment of reprieve, but Caol struck out at him again.

And again.

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