Page 77 of A Fate so Cruel

Rion shoved through the door to the inn and bolted up to their shared room without greeting the male at the counter. Said male was gone when he descended a minute later.

He’d worry about changing and finding a meal later. He wanted to put as much distance between him and Selina as possible.

Clouds hid the sliver of moon from view as Rion marched down the empty street toward the city gates. It was quiet.

Too quiet.

Rion paused at the stillness and calmed his breathing to listen.

No animals.

No insects.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose.

Rion continued walking. Great. Well, he had his answer then. If she couldn’t lure him in, then he supposed killing him outright was her next move. Maybe the others in her group hadn’t been assigned to other villages after all. Maybe they’d been lying in wait this whole time.

Thirteen.

He could handle thirteen.

A lump formed in his throat. He could handle twelve. The thirteenth. The thought of seeing the light dim from her amber gaze . . .

Brónach’s magic sparked through the air. He could taste it. Feel the earth pulsing with their energy.

No one peeked from the windows or moved behind the drapes. No shadows shifted in the dark corners.

She’d claimed to be one of the best. Perhaps now he’d get to see her skills.

The city itself seemed to hold its breath as he continued through the streets at a leisurely pace. He gripped a knife in his belt. Perhaps they were waiting until—footsteps hit the cobblestones.

Rion counted.

One.

Their magic broke through the stones, cracking the seams, and shot toward him with blinding speed. Earth rose to form an impenetrable wall at his back. He tore the road to shreds, ripping up chunks of rock and breaking them into tiny pieces. Those pieces launched toward the greenery.

Two.

Bodies dropped from the rooftops, more emerged from the shadows. Not just thirteen. Three dozen. More. The knife left his hand, sinking into a shoulder. More blades were drawn. A storm of earth surrounded his body, circling in a dizzying field of deadly rock.

Three.

The first lunged with a second and third following close behind. Bodies dressed in midnight black circled from different angles, all in paired groups of two or three. Normally, he might have smirked at their creativeness, but he wasn’t in the mood today. Not with who was likely responsible.

Rion ducked around the first male’s body. He grabbed the second’s extended arm and twisted it behind the male’s back, positioning his body so that it shielded Rion from the blades flying through the air.

The male grunted in pain.

Four.

Rion shoved the male away and ducked again. He drew two more knives from his belt and let them fly. One landed in someone’s throat. Another sank deep into a thigh.

Five.

Vines raced for his feet, but he didn’t jump back in time. One caught his ankle and yanked hard. Rion only lost his balance for a split second before righting himself again.

Six.

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