Page 38 of A Fate so Cruel

“I wasn’t trying to,” Rion whispered. “He was—” Rion shook his head, not wanting to relive Caol’s final words or the pain in the male’s voice. “I was just trying to push him away.”

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice soft.

“I don’t have enough control. I need to learn how to keep it in check, no matter what it takes.”

Saoirse nodded again. “We’ll figure it out.”

Rion tried to sit up more but hissed from the pain. “I’m serious. Whatever you know, whatever books you can find. I need to learn. What if it happens again with someone who isn’t trying to hurt me? What if I accidentally hurt you or Alec or—”

“Rion,” she took his hand, “calm down, we’ll work through it, but you have to heal first. I’ll hire private tutors, we’ll get the books, but you almost—” Her voice broke and a tear rolled down her face before she could turn away.

Rion settled again, forcing his heart and spinning magic to do the same. Saoirse never reacted to the particles. Never watched it with a wary eye. Never backed away. She was the only one who’d never been afraid.

She’d be the only one he trusted from here on out. Not Alec. Not the slaves or servants and certainly not the Fae nobles and warriors who wandered the palace.

She’d brought him home. Rion looked around his room again. Home.

Heaviness still hung in the air and it would for a while, but eventually, the familiar halls would feel the way they used to. And maybe, just maybe, he’d get to live a halfway normal life.

He knew it would be hard and come with its own trials. Rion watched his sister wipe her eyes, still hiding her face from his view.

“Is there anything to eat?” he asked, trying anything to distract her.

A half-hearted laugh. “I’ll go see what I can find.”

Chapter Ten

Saoirse went above and beyond, hiring every tutor she could find. Some lived in Nàdair, while others traveled from cities in the south. Of course, it was all under the guise that they’d be training her.

Many balked when they walked into the room and found Rion waiting, but Saoirse always assured them their lives weren’t in danger. Some had outright refused, while others only agreed after being offered three times their normal salary.

Rion drilled them with questions and implemented their advice with lethal efficiency. Saoirse spared him often and hired others to do the same. She’d had to reprimand a few who had made attempts on his life, but Rion never retaliated. If anything, it made the training more valuable.

And just as she’d promised, Rion accompanied Saoirse on every mission. Alec hated it, if his raised voice was anything to go by, but Saoirse always told her elder brother the same thing: Either Rion went or she didn’t.

Despite enjoying traveling the country at his sister’s side, Rion noticed that some had started to resent her. They whispered behind her back and often avoided her altogether.

Saoirse noticed it too, but whenever Rion mentioned it, she’d just shrug it off.

His presence was hurting her, just like Caol always promised it would.

Even Alec was growing tired of his presence in the throne room. His brother glared relentlessly. He was their High Lord. He bent and bowed to no one. Except Saoirse. His only remaining family. The only one that counted, anyway.

Months flew by. While they were out on missions, Rion learned from Saoirse. Learned from others, too, and was often at the receiving end of disdain when he offered better strategies.Their missions were always successful, much to the council’s chagrin. They hoped he’d fail, if only to get rid of him once and for all.

When he turned sixteen, Saoirse made him a cinnamon dessert for his birthday. It was a poor attempt, but they both ate the doughy pastry and laughed endlessly at her failure. She’d also purchased him a new set of throwing knives.

Roaming the palace halls was . . . strange. Alec attempted to keep him locked in his room, but he hadn’t listened and no one dared to force him. He found himself fortunate that there’d only been one attempt on his life, aside from the tutors. He’d been in a side garden and his magic had blocked a rogue arrow. He’d never found the one responsible.

Rion knew he should be happy. He was thankful, really. He was back home, no longer in isolation, but he couldn’t keep relying on Saoirse to protect him. He was old enough now and it was time for a change.

Rion gathered himself. He’d been preparing his speech for a week. Steadying his magic, Rion pushed open the double doors that led to the throne room. He’d waited until Alec’s morning meeting had adjourned.

A tall, lanky male lingered, whispering to Alec in hushed tones. A noble who didn’t care for Rion in the slightest. Not that he was alone. The male looked up and his face paled. He bowed to his High Lord, gathered a stack of papers, then rushed from the room.

Alec glared at Rion, then shifted that glare to the magic swirling at Rion’s feet. Rion was doing his best not to appear threatening, but he couldn’t risk putting his magic away completely. First, because almost everyone in the palace wanted him dead. And second, because he needed a constant flow of it to take the edge off.

One of the teachers Saoirse had hired hypothesized that Rion had too much magic coursing through his body, which led to it seeking an escape beyond his control. They’d advised him to keep it in constant use which, theoretically, would diminish the strain.

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