Page 239 of The Revered and the Pariah

“You’re in control,” Rion said, his voice deep and husky. “Whatever you want or don’t want is up to you.”

Arianna nodded, studying her own magic as if confirming it to herself. She leaned forward and kissed him again, brushing her tongue against his lips. He devoured her then, kissing her deeply, basking in her scent and smell and taste. Rion kissed the side of her mouth, then trailed those kisses down to her neck. She froze and he silently cursed himself.

Instead of pulling away, he whispered in the shell of her ear. “Show me.” She shifted slightly. “Show me you’re in control.” The water around his wrists tightened and she pulled his arm up, pinning them against the tile. Rion fought against the memory of the dungeon and his aching shoulders. He focused on the warm water instead and beautiful female hovering over him. He didn’t care what memories he had to suffer through. He’d suffer for her, give her whatever fractured piece of him she desired.

Rion studied her body and the way her chest rose and fell. “I’m yours,” he said again. “Whatever you want.”

Her heated gaze drank him in, then Arianna took everything.

Chapter Ninety-seven

Arianna

The city was in absolute ruins. Most had survived the fall thanks to Gavin’s return, but Arianna wouldn’t forget the ones who hadn’t, nor the strange magic that had held them in place. She’d never seen the markings before and wasn’t even aware anyone could siphon magic.

There were other things at work. Things they’d forgotten. Things they needed to remember.

Arianna turned away from the sight of the bodies being pulled from the rubble. They were still finding them one at a time.

Arianna had been right about those jailed. Niall had imprisoned anyone who opposed him, including three council members Rion’s mother knew by name. There were also a number of half-breeds and Fae who’d refused to bow to his rule. They’d attempted to overthrow him through the decades, but Niall had outsmarted every attempt.

Some who’d actually been criminals had fled during the chaos. Maybe their time in the dungeons had changed them. Maybe not. She might send Talon to hunt them down in the future, but there were more pressing concerns to deal with now.

Like how Niall had escaped, and the group of Fae that had helped him do it.

Rion had been livid, but whoever had freed Niall hadn’t left any survivors to tell the story. They were yet another set of bodies to bury. More lives lost.

Rion and Eimear claimed Niall had likely fled back to Pádraigín. Which meant his father would soon get wind of everything that had transpired. Arianna wondered how much of it was commanded by The High Lord and what events Niall had taken upon himself.

She couldn’t forgive either male. Not after learning what had happened to her mother.

Avalon was sending word to Levea already, preparing his warriors should Pádraigín launch a full scale attack. Saoirse assured them Alec would join the fight. It was all too much too soon. Arianna didn’t want to go to war. She was tired of the bloodshed already.

Arianna slipped on a loose stone, but Rion caught her arm and steadied her. She still jumped at his magic, which he tried not to use in her presence, but the drowning fear had all but dissipated after last night. He constantly reminded her she was in control.

They followed his mother through the rubble, crawling toward the city’s center. The further inward they ventured, the more intact things became. Buildings had still crumbled and nothing was unmarred, but it wasn’t a complete scattered mess like the outskirts.

Eimear wore a green cloak with the hood up to cover her bare head, and she still hadn’t removed the iron bracelet from around her wrist. Maybe that’s how Rion had held up the city. His magic had been restrained for two months. Eimear claimed her magic had built up in the time she’d been held captive. Perhaps Rion’s had done the same. Arianna didn’t want to imagine what would happen when Eimear finally released hers.

The trio climbed higher and higher. Arianna crawled over fallen pillars and the remnants of shattered buildings. She carefully stepped around stained glass and crumbled stone gardens. Then found herself in the city’s center. The manor. A place that now held nothing but a plethora of horrible memories.

Eimear paused to catch her breath. Rion had offered to carry her, but she’d declined, claiming she was tired of sitting still. Eimear needed to move and prove to herself that she was free.

His mother finally pointed down into an area that had collapsed into a small crater. Arianna didn’t know what they would find inside, but her hands shook as she climbed the last few feet to stand at Eimear’s side.

There, in the center of everything, with the temple roof collapsed around it, stood the statue of The Divine. The face had cracked and she was missing an arm, but she still stood, along with a part Arianna hadn’t seen before.

“Long ago,” Eimear began, “the Fae beneath Pádraigín’s rule were ordered to destroy this piece of our history.” She rested a hand on the spiderweb crack that spread down The Divine’s remaining arm. “But those still loyal to the true crown couldn’t stomach having it erased.” Eimear smiled faintly at the statue, as if she’d stood among those defiant Fae from centuries ago. “The High Lord burned books and altered our history. So, before their memories were erased, they formed a secret pact and hid this one artifact. They hoped that someday, someone would find it and learn the truth.”

Standing before them beside The Divine and previously hidden beneath the walls of the temple was a male. A male with stones at his feet and grains of sand coursing down his arms. A male who stood beside The Divine as if he were ready to lay the world at her feet.

Not her enemy. Not a demon or an abomination. Her mate.

“I’d like to think they also hid a copy of the original ancient text, but I’m afraid I can’t remember. You should order a trusted group of warriors to search the area, just in case.”

“How do you know all this?” Arianna asked.

“As a seer, I’ve lived through countless lifetimes and the memories of others. I’ve witnessed things from our past, as well as events that have yet to unfold. The High Lord of Pádraigín did his best to alter my memories, but glamours don’t work on a seer. At least not for long.”

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