Page 95 of A Fate so Cruel

Rion watched the inky blackness above and imagined her staring into the same star-flecked sky.

One day he’d find her.

One day he’d bring her home.

Chapter Sixteen

Two more days passed and the dead animals lining the bank increased in number. The scent of the river burned his nose. Selina’s face was pale, almost greenish as she tried to cover her face and block the rotting stench of carcasses.

Neither dared to speak. Not as they spotted fresh footprints in the dirt and scented several males and females that had recently passed through.

They moved slower now, opting to trek along the tree line and use the trunks for cover. It wasn’t until he heard a collection of voices that Rion raised a hand. Selina stopped and strained to listen, but only shook her head. He pointed and they crept forward, moving like wraiths in the woods.

The voices grew louder until the pair happened upon a small cottage. Rion eyed the smoking fire before the front door, then the vials piled off to one side.

A glass jug of liquid sat next to a log, filled with a purplish brew.

A female emerged from the only door and warmed her hands by the fire before proceeding to pick up an empty vial. She glared at it, sighed, then slumped onto a log.

The female, a half-breed slave, tied a cloth over her mouth and nose before carefully picking up the jug.

Rion grimaced. Of course they’d have slaves filling the vials. It prevented any of the rebels from risking their own health. He imagined the female had to ingest the antidote regularly.

A male emerged next. Neither had chains connecting their wrists, but the shackles were still present. He carried another crate full of small vials, each one vertically balanced in a grid, and set them down beside the female.

She coughed, and the action caused her to spill some of the mixture onto her hand. The half-breed hissed and the male was before her in an instant, pouring water over her already blistered skin.

Her eyes watered, but she didn’t cry. Instead, she retrieved the vial and started again.

Rion surveyed the area, searching for the Fae who owned the two slaves.

The female suddenly shot to her feet, bottle and vial in hand, staring at the liquid as if it were a plague.

“Don’t,” the male warned.

Her hands shook. “Why not?”

He glanced around, as if waiting for someone to emerge from the trees. “You know why.”

The female swallowed hard, clenched her teeth, wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve, then collapsed back down in defeat.

Rion stepped beyond the tree line.

The male jumped to his feet at the sight of Rion and placed his body between Rion and the female. The female froze, her face full of terror.

“Are you the only two here?” Rion asked. His magic beat against the cage he’d put it in. It wanted to surround him, protect him, cover him so that no enemy could ever pierce his heart.

The male nodded. “You’re not . . .with them.”

“No.” He wasn’t exactly sure who “them” referred to, but Rion wagered a guess. “How long have they been gone?”

“A few hours.”

“How many?”

“Two dozen.”

Rion glanced at the cottage, then back to the half-breeds. Burn marks lined both their arms. “You’re making it?” Rion inclined his head toward the bottle.

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