Page 5 of A Fate so Cruel

No one had answered his questions, either.

Rion had been playing with a wooden chess set in the grand library when he’d felt his father’s frantic pulse of wrathful magic. It had raised the hairs on the back of his neck and Rion’sstomach had flipped as if he were plummeting from a hundred foot drop.

He’d never experienced anything like it. Neither had the library staff, if their uncertain and fearful expressions were anything to go by.

Two guards had burst through the library’s intricately carved doors seconds later and had escorted him here on Saoirse’s orders. They’d supplied him with everything an eight-year-old might need, then had positioned themselves outside the closed door to stand watch.

Rion chewed his bottom lip, eyed the items they’d brought in, and turned away from the offering. He wasn’t a normal eight-year-old and he hated the thought of being trapped anywhere. Especially in a small room where he couldn’t ask anyone questions.

Fed up with trying to tiptoe, Rion grabbed a chair and scooted it toward the window, making as much noise as possible. He wanted them to burst in, if only so he could pester them for answers.

He climbed up and unlatched the top locks before jumping down again and shoving the heavy glass panes open.

Rion recoiled from the thick, acrid air. He covered his face with one hand and his eyes watered as he took in the gruesome scene on the ground again.

Listen, his mother’s voice coaxed.Be aware of your surroundings. Access the situation and be patient. Don’t act unless you’re sure of your intentions.

Rion tilted his head and strained to hear anything that might prove useful. He just wanted a name.

The voices were still too muffled. Most were drowned out by guards as they instructed civilians to take shelter beneath the palace itself. He’d seen the safe rooms before. Cavernous halls surrounded by thick rock that promised refuge.

Someone mentioned an attack. They whispered to a companion about their fear of an entire enemy fleet wreaking havoc on their beautiful city. Rion identified the tremors in their voices. They weren’t warriors, nor were they in charge or informed. He loosed a sigh of relief. It was little more than fear that drove them to believe such things.

Rion focused again and tried to sift through the noise for the voices that were steady. That’s where he’d get answers.

One guard worried about allowing civilians inside at all, claiming that whoever was responsible for the attacks might try to seize an opportunity to destroy the structure from within.

Another quelled that male’s fears, assuring him the villagers would remain isolated below the central hall. There were only two ways in or out of the underground rooms, and neither led directly into the palace.

Were they truly worried about an invasion or was their caution just standard protocol?

Rion’s head whipped toward the door and he glared at the brass handle. They’d used the key to turn the lock after pushing him inside.

But why? Were his mother and Saoirse safe? And if so, why hadn’t either female come for him yet?

Rion looked back out over the chaos, doing his best to pretend the bodies were nothing more than mounds of dirt. He overheard the word “abduction,” but the rest was too muffled to make out.

Rion’s heart beat faster. Who? What had happened and why couldn’t he know about it?

Rion looked toward the door again, then his gaze drifted to the old woven rug beneath the heavy bookcase in the far corner. He wasn’t sure how many knew about the trap door underneath.

Saoirse had instructed him to only ever use it in the event of an emergency. She claimed if he feared the dark tunnel passage, then he wasn’t scared enough to use it.

But fear for himself wasn’t the emotion that had Rion tearing books from the shelves. It wasn’t what drove him to brace his feet against the wall and scoot the shelf inch by inch until the rug could be folded over.

Rion listened for those outside the door. Surely they would have heard all the noise. But maybe it wasn’t enough to warrant an investigation. He was a child in a locked room, after all. How much trouble could he possibly cause?

Rion lifted the hatch and stared into the darkness. The light from the room illuminated the floor below. Nothing but bare boards coated in dust and cobwebs.

He glanced at the door one final time before jumping inside. Rion had to crawl on his hands and knees to avoid busting his head on the floor above.

He wasn’t sure what he expected to accomplish. He was too small to be of any use in a fight. And he still didn’t possess a drop of magic. Both were valid enough reasons why he should have stayed where Saoirse put him. But he had to know.

Cobwebs coated his hair and stuck to his face. He crawled slowly, afraid the boards beneath his weight might creak and alert the guards. Then the passage just . . . ended.

He’d expected it to stretch halfway across the palace. Maybe even end at the back wall where he’d be forced to climb down a steep rickety ladder.

Instead, Rion’s fingers searched for the interior latch. He pricked his index finger on a splinter, muttered a foul word Saoirse had told him to never use, then wrapped his hand around a smooth metal surface.

---