Page 41 of A Fate so Cruel

The warriors covered their faces, but Rion was already running for the nearest of them. He drew a knife from his belt and flicked his wrist. It buried itself in the male’s throat. He pulled another out and let it fly. It sank into a male’s chest, stopping his heart on impact.

The next one had recovered enough to block Rion’s sword, but Rion spun and smashed his elbow into the male’s face. The satisfying crunch of bone told Rion he’d broken the male’s nose. Another lunged and Rion grabbed his arm, twisting it back at an unnatural angle.

One strike for each opponent. That’s how he fought groups. Incapacitate each individual until he was left with a pile of injured warriors who would rather crawl away than fight.

Not that he’d let them. He’d seen too many children dead to forgive these monsters.

Rion planted his fist in another male’s face and shoved him away when a sound echoing from the other side of the field drew his attention.

Fae were screaming. Battling. Rion couldn’t afford to stop, but he tried to glance through the pouring rain. Friend or foe? Had Alec sent someone as backup? Unlikely, and Saoirse was busy with a mission of her own.

A knife cut through Rion’s sleeve. He ripped the knife away from the warrior and shoved it through his arm.

Rion shifted positions. He summoned his magic again, this time using it to shove his enemies back. Then he took off toward the new sounds. He still had warehouses to destroy. If his enemies had sent a back-up unit to retrieve the vials, then he needed to put a stop to them first.

Rion stopped short. Three Fae fought side by side, each guarding the other’s backs from the onslaught of warriors rushing toward them. One female, two males.

Not his enemy, then. Were they from Nàdair?

A blade whizzed through the air and he spun, catching it before launching it right back at its owner. He didn’t bother to see if it had landed.

The female’s piercing gaze swung toward him. She made a hand sign and, perplexed, Rion glanced behind. No one else, aside from his enemies struggling to regain their balance.

She was already fighting again by the time he looked back, but—she wasn’t struggling. No, she was dancing around her opponents with grace. A blade swiped toward her and her companion, a male with dark hair, blocked it, sending her attacker flying back.

Rion ducked beneath another swing and broke the arm of the male who had attacked. He let his magic soar, shoving earth and rock through his opponents before turning to look at her again.

She was watching him from the corner of her eye. So were her companions.

She gestured again. More aggressively this time, as if she were aggravated that he hadn’t listened. The thought was almost comical. Rion closed the distance, dispatching warrior after warrior in his wake.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins. His breath was ragged. Alive. This was what being alive felt like.

The earth was always a little more difficult to move when it was wet and it had been raining on and off for days.

The female closed the remaining distance, but Rion kept his guard up in the event she was present for more sinister reasons. He was no stranger to assassins.

But the female wasn’t looking at him. She was too busy focusing on the Fae advancing on them all. Two large groups, one from either side. He wasn’t worried.

“Can you handle the ones on the left?” She was breathless, and her clothes were covered in blood and dirt. She hadn’t just arrived. She’d been on the other side of the field, for how long, he didn’t know.

Rion looked her over. She was covered in cuts and bruises. Her left eye had nearly swollen shut. One of her companions had a thin stretch of fabric hastily tied around a bleeding wound in his upper arm.

“Yeah, I can handle them.”

“There are two other warehouses to destroy,” she said. “One north, the other west. They also have one just on the outskirts. Some have already fled there to—” Her sentence was cut short when magic burst from the ground at their feet.

She jerked her own up and wrestled with the plants, fighting for control. Rion upended the ground, knocking the female and her companions momentarily off balance. He righted them as a courtesy, then proceeded to focus on his own group.

His blade cut through them one at a time. It could have been minutes or hours. The blood pumped through his body, fedby adrenaline as he relished in the sight and sound and smell of battle.

The trio never strayed far from his side and as a group, they brought down Fae after Fae, rendering their magic useless. The three kept a sharp eye out for him and he did the same in turn, always watching for that extra knife that might be thrown his way.

Only when he was afforded a gap did Rion race toward the nearest storehouse. The northern one. He kicked the door in, ripped open one of the crates, and threw a match inside before sprinting away.

Rion made it a few feet before the box exploded, then the ones next to it followed suit. He yanked the ground up to protect his body once again.

Fae were screaming on the outskirts of the storehouse, some swiping at flames, while others grabbed for their throats.

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