Page 88 of A Fate so Cruel

She moved closer, joining him beside the fire. “Was it your father who trained you?”

An old pain blossomed in his chest. “No.”

She waited. “Who did?”

The pain spread and Rion gripped the area as if he could stop his heart from bleeding. He wondered if it would ever heal. “A—” Rion stopped himself. “It doesn’t matter. He’s been dead for years.”

Selina sat in the small chair. “I’m sorry to hear it.” More silence. “I lost my father when I was young. It was stupid. He went on an assignment to confront a group of humans attempting to settle in Brónach territory. They caught him with iron, a weapon I think. It stopped his magic long enough for them to put a blade through his heart.” She clenched her fists. “I’ve never forgiven him for being so careless. Who lets themselves get killed by humans?”

“A lot of Fae, apparently.” Their history with the humans was a bloody one. He imagined her uncle was likely the one responsible for seeking retribution. Human settlements never lasted long.

She looked at him, as if waiting for Rion to share his own story. But Caol wasn’t someone he wanted to talk about. Not tonight. Perhaps not ever. The remembrance of that night made his soul bleed. If he ripped open the wound now, he might not be able to close it again.

Selina glanced toward the bed. “I suppose we should try to get some rest. We’ll be there in the morning.”

“It’s that close?” She nodded. “Then we should wait until it’s dark.”

“You don’t want to make another grand entrance?”

Rion shook his head. “It’s a small village.” He glanced out the window to the rain peppering the glass. “And if the rain keeps up, they won’t be able to pick up my scent.”

She shrugged. “They probably wouldn’t recognize it anyway. Not many from these small villages get to travel all the way to Nàdair.” She leaned forward. “What’s your plan?”

“You’re letting me decide?”

She shrugged. “I’m interested enough to hear it.”

“We find one of the unused tunnels and move in while it’s dark. Get what we need and get out.”

“That’s no fun.”

“We can save thefunfor Whiteridge.”

“Fine.” She eyed the bed, then grimaced. “I’m not laying on that.”

Rion followed her gaze. “I’m sure it’s clean.”

“It looks like someone died there.”

“They probably did.”

She gaped at him. “Would you sleep on it?”

He inclined his head. “I’m taking the floor, so it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m requesting a different room.”

“Don’t, it’ll just draw unwanted attention. If you want new sheets, go down to the closet and take some. No one will ask questions.”

Selina placed her hands on her hips, glared at the bed, then disappeared into the hall. Rion sank into the chair and let his shoulders relax. His arm ached, but whatever salve Selina put on his wounds eased some of the discomfort. The bruising had shifted to a yellowish color, but it still hurt more than he thought it should. Not that he’d ever experienced vines shooting straight through his arm before, an experience he never wanted to repeat.

When Selina opened the door again, her arms were full with an entire stack of sheets, two fluffy blankets, a pair of new pillows, and two steaming tarts. Lemon, from the smell of them. “The caretaker said I could take whatever I wanted.”

“I’m sure you didn’t give him any incentive.”

She waved a hand. “The key to a pleasant life is making others love you.”

Rion rolled his eyes. “You can’t buy everything.”

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