Page 6 of A Fate so Cruel

Rion turned it, then pushed up.

The door didn’t budge.

He tried again, bracing his whole body against the wooden frame before it finally popped open. Almost as if a seal had been broken.

A rug prevented him from searching with his eyes, but Rion knew no one occupied the space above him. No heartbeats. No gasps of shock. No ruffling or movement.

He kept pushing the door open an inch at a time, hoping to prevent anything from falling over in the process. The leg of a table scooted against the hardwood floor and Rion froze to listen, hoping the guards wouldn’t come rushing in before he finished shimmying his way out from beneath the rug.

His foot slipped, and the trap door slammed shut with a loud thud. He cursed again and waited for the bedroom door to burst open.

Nothing.

Some guards they were.

Rion inhaled a familiar scent and found himself standing in Saoirse’s room.

He came in here often, especially when he woke from savage nightmares. A map sat on top of the small table he’d scooted while crawling out from beneath the rug. The trinkets holding it in place—a candle, a figurine depicting a forest sprite, a book, and an empty mug—had all toppled over. Miraculously, none were broken.

Swords and knives rested on a shelf beside the bed, some with jewel-encrusted pommels. A bookcase stood against the back wall, lined with their histories and endless texts he didn’t yet understand.

Saoirse had sage green drapes around her window and the same shade bedsheets with little vine designs embroidered along the seams.

A bit of relief washed through him. Everything was orderly and intact. No sign of a struggle or that she’d left theroom in a hurry. But that didn’t mean she was safe. Especially with how the side garden path now looked with—Rion shook the images away.

He crept toward the door and paused to listen once again. He didn’t even hear their heartbeats anymore. Hadn’t for a while now. Had they just . . . left?

Rion silently reached for the handle and turned it carefully. The hinges were blissfully silent. No guards stood on the other side. He wished his own door was just as quiet, but Saoirse always seemed to know whenever he made an attempt to sneak from his room. All for the kitchens, of course, and midnight snacks.

But right now, he wasn’t sneaking out for cake or pastries.

Rion eased his breathing, just as his mother had shown him, and peered out into the hall. He crept over the lush rug, debated heading straight for the stairs, but paused when curiosity got the better of him.

Guards. There were supposed to be guards. But he didn’t scent their presence. Nor did he hear . . . anything.

Rion peered around the corner and hesitated before stepping into the hall. No one stood before the door of the study or the door to his room. He carefully ventured down, keeping his footsteps quiet as he went, and peered around the corner toward the staircase. No one was there either.

Puzzled, Rion returned to the study’s door and reached for the handle, only to jolt at the sound of hushed voices.

He sprinted back around the corner near Saoirse’s room and worked to keep his heart from beating too hard as he pressed his back against the wall.

They’d lock him inside with a guard next and while he could ask plenty of questions, it would prevent him from finding the truth for himself.

Rion glanced down toward the other side of the hall. If he was quiet, he could reach the stairs without them knowing, but he’d never successfully snuck past Saoirse, so the chances of sneaking past them . . .

“Be quick about it,” a nasally male voice hissed. Rion paused, curious, and scented the air. They were from Brónach, but definitely not the guards who’d been stationed to his room. They smelled like fire and . . . blood. Why was there blood on their clothes? Had someone broken in? Is that why the guards had left?

“You do it,” another demanded. The previous male scoffed and the hairs rose on the back of Rion’s neck when a blade slid free of its sheath.

Danger, danger, danger,a voice inside him warned.

Rion’s breathing turned shallow.

“I don’t want a child’s blood on my hands.”

His heart lurched in his chest. Rion dared a quick glance around the corner.

Four individuals stood close together.

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