Page 35 of A Fate so Cruel

And again.

Rion kept rolling out of the magic’s path and had barely stumbled back to his feet when sharp pain pierced through his lower back. Rion gasped from the sudden heat and the impact propelled him forward. He grimaced and reached for his lower abdomen only to find four thin vines protruding from his flesh. The bloody leaves unfurled and reached for the high noon sun above.

Rion looked to Caol for . . . for . . .

Anguish covered the male’s face. “I’m sorry.” Rion’s head swam. “It’s for the best. I—I’ll make sure your sister knows. I won’t bury you to be forgotten.”

Rion stumbled then fell to his knees, the jarring of the four vines eliciting another round of blinding pain.

His body trembled, then the vines withdrew and blood rushed from the wounds, soaking his tunic. He clenched his fists and ground his teeth so hard Rion was sure they’d crack. “You promised,” he gasped.

“I know,” Caol replied. “I’m sorry.”

More vines rose, ready to finish what Caol had started.

“You’re sorry,” Rion mocked then snapped his head up to meet Caol’s forlorn expression. “You’re—” Rion gasped when another shock of pain rolled through his system.

Caol approached slowly. “I won’t drag this out.” Rion must have imagined the break in his voice. “I’ll make it quick so you don’t have to suffer. Is there anything you want me to tell Saoirse?”

Rion scoffed. Caol wanted him to say his final words? He wanted—the male kneeled at Rion’s side. A hand reached for his shoulder.

Then Rion exploded.

No. His magic exploded.

He hadn’t even realized he’d raised his hand to swat Caol’s away before the male was on the ground across from him with a dozen jagged holes punched straight through his torso.

He only moved once before falling still. Red soaked through his cream-colored tunic. The vines fell limp.

No.

Another wave of blinding pain. Another strike to his already battered heart.

His mother.

His father.

Liam. And now . . . now . . . Rion doubled over and roared into the earth. It cracked beneath him and fissures spider-webbed their way across the ground, splitting the very rocks beneath his crumpled body.

His voice didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Not as his heart raced and bled out right there over the damp mossy ground. He’d told himself he didn’t care. That Caol was just another male, but . . . but . . . gods,why, why, why?

Rion slammed his fist into the ground and it caved in from the force of the impact. Or maybe that was his cursed magic. He didn’t care. Not as he did it over and over again, letting the physical pain radiate up his arm.

He didn’t care. He didn’t care. He didn’t care.

Hot tears rolled down his face. Small rivers that would never cease.

Rion cursed the warm sun overhead, damning it for its brightness when color had faded from his life. He cursed the ground where Caol’s vines lay unmoving. He cursed the particlesrising up, circling as if they might protect him from the pain lancing through his heart.

Nothing could help him now.

Not with this.

His chest rose and fell and sobs tore through him until Rion’s body shivered from the cold.

Not the cold, a rational part of him said. Something else. Something dangerous.

Reluctantly, Rion lifted his head from the earth and touched a hand to his abdomen.

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