Page 45 of A Fate so Cruel

“That’s sketchy.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t go. I’m sure they can handle it on their own.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be outnumbered and somewhere remote.”

He shrugged. “Again, nothing I haven’t encountered before.”

She lowered her voice. “I wish you wouldn’t insist on taking missions at all.”

He snatched one of her pieces. “Why, so I could be attached to your hip forever? I’m nineteen, not nine.”

She took one of his in turn. “At least I’d be able to keep an eye on you.”

“I don’t need you to anymore.”

“I know.” Silence passed as they both studied the board. “Just—promise you’ll be safe, okay?”

He moved once more and cornered her king. “I always am.”

She tipped the piece over, then began resetting. “Another game?”

“A glutton for punishment tonight?”

“Don’t get cocky. I’m still older than you.”

“Doesn’t do much for your skills.”

She set her queen back in place. “Would you care to play a different game? I’m sure the sparring rings are open.”

He clenched his jaw. He might be faster than her now but beating her in the ring was still a challenge. He’d only succeeded twice.

“That’s what I thought.” She moved first. Rion responded and the pair stayed up well into the night playing game after game as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

***

A message arrived at his door two days later. The slight knock was jarring enough, but when Rion opened his door and found a male slave standing with his head lowered and armsextended, Rion almost did a double take. No one ever knocked on his door, aside from Saoirse, and she’d left early that morning.

Rion broke the heavy seal on the envelope and read one word.

Midnight

He turned it over, searching for details, then looked at the half-breed who was visibly shaking. Rion eyed the chains around his wrists and the scars underneath where the iron had bitten into the male’s flesh. The slight scent of blood drifted up from the wounds.

“You’re dismissed.” The male bowed even lower, then rushed from his sight, limping on his left foot. Half-breeds, bound in shackles just because of how they’d been born. Rion let the thought slip from his mind. He had the day to himself. He wasn’t going to waste it thinking about things outside his control.

Rion gathered his satchel and slipped it around his shoulders before closing the door behind him. Alec hadn’t been wrong about others listening in. Someone had been tailing him for two days and Rion had yet to force them out. They were slippery. A shadow. He planned to corner them today and demand answers.

Rion jogged down the stairs and walked down the crisply maintained halls. The windows were open, letting in the summer breeze. It billowed through the top of the tied-off curtains and brushed against the leaves of the various plants lining the halls. A floral aroma had tension falling from his shoulders. He’d always admired the decor, mostly because it was his mother who had put it all together.

Alec hadn’t changed a thing.

Thin rectangular tables lined the walls, and elegant round ones occupied the corners. Lightly colored vases sat atop lattice table runners with robust flowers reaching toward the sun. Pictures of nature lined the halls. All bright and airy and welcoming.

Rion exited from a side door and marched across the immaculate lawn toward the rear training rings. He sometimes wished he could remember how his mother had treated the slaves.

They’d spent a lot of time at the lake house, but the slaves had never been present. And he didn’t have the heart to ask Saoirse, not when she crumbled at every mention of their mother. For all he knew, his mother held similar views to their neighboring country Móirín. She and the High Lady there were said to be close allies, perhaps even friends. He prayed he’d get the chance to ask her himself someday.

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