Rion’s hairs rose, his skin prickling as a familiar sensation cascaded over the space. His magic spun to life with barely a thought and he stood straight, eyes scanning the area for the disturbance.
He scented the air, eyed the shadows surrounding Arianna. Nothing. She wasn’t reacting either. Did she not scent his magic? His heart raced and Rion padded forward on silent feet. Maybe she’d lose her sense of peace, but better that than—
A male appeared behind her, green, tattered cape billowing with his sudden movement. A milky white eye met Rion’s, then a horrible smile spread across the male’s ominous face. Rion’s eyes widened, he stepped forward, arm outstretched, but Arianna didn’t even have time to turn before the knife was buried in her back.
Rion’s scream drowned out her own, his magic exploding as he raced for her. Vairik pulled the knife out, blood splattering across the marble. Then he dragged the sharpened edge across Arianna’s delicate neck.
Rion’s stomach dropped as crimson stained the lace across the top of her bodice. It soaked through the fabric in seconds. Vairik vanished and Rion hit his knees, catching Arianna before her head could slam against the stone. Her mouth opened. Words didn’t follow. Rion held her, one hand over the gaping wound across her throat.
Gods no, please, no, no, no.He wasn’t sure if he was speaking out loud or not. Arianna’s eyes were wide, body trembling. A tear rolled down the side of her face. “It’s okay,” he whispered, voice cracking. “It’s okay, it’ll be all right.” Her body stilled, the light fading from her cerulean eyes. Agony tore through him.
Rion jolted upright in bed, chest heaving, one arm outstretched, with Arianna’s name on the edge of his tongue. He wasn’t sure if he’d actually screamed or if his throat was merely raw from emotion. He half expected Saoirse to burst through his door at any moment.
Rion dropped his head into one hand and forced his heart to slow. Then he was out of bed, pulling his boots on before he threw open the door and flew down the dark, silent halls.
She was safe. He knew she was safe. He could feel that much down their sliver of a bond, even if everything else had been erased. Still, that didn’t stop him from nearly running up a flight of stairs and stopping just down the hall. Eoghan was still there, standing at attention. He met Rion’s gaze, staring at him wide-eyed.
Vairik wasn’t here.
Not yet, anyway.
Arianna’s steady heartbeat met him from the other room and Rion let the tension fall from his shoulders. Alive. Arianna was alive and resting, but if he stayed here, she might not remain that way long. Rion just shook his head and backed away, moving further down the hall, trying to shove away the imagesfrom his nightmare. His eyes burned, his body, too. His heart raced just a little too fast and his breathing was erratic from the adrenaline and exhaustion.
Rion paused to lean his head against the wall once he’d rounded the corner. He allowed his eyes to close, soaking in reality. Maybe he’d lie right here and try to get a few more hours of sleep. But gods, he missed her warmth. He longed for the way her fingers would comb through his hair, as if she could erase the nightmares that plagued him with a single touch. If he ever got her back, he’d never run after a nightmare again. He’d let her quell his fears, no matter how long it took.
With his heart far calmer, Rion pushed off from the wall and ambled down the vast halls of Nàdair’s palace, taking in all the ornately decorated finery. He let his fingers trace the carved vines, a detail he’d memorized and added to his cabin in the forest. Part of him had never wanted to forget his home. Perhaps that part had ached for both his mother and Saoirse’s company.
Rion glanced toward the billowing curtains. The servants had left the windows slightly ajar to allow the cool night breeze through. The scene felt … lonely somehow, as if those free flowing curtains longed for the tether that held them in place. Rion wondered what color they’d been the night his life had changed forever. The very day everything had been stolen from him. Literally.
Vairik.
Rion clenched his fists.
It had all been a lie. Right from the very beginning. Were it not for a male hell-bent on his own revenge, Rion would have lived a very different life. His mother wouldn’t have suffered. His family would still be whole … and so would Arianna’s.
Rion swallowed hard and stared at each painting in turn, relishing in the silence of the night. No one wandered the halls,save for those stationed to keep watch. Blissfully, they remained focused on their task and left him be.
Rion rounded another corner and paused. His stomach flipped at the sight of a thick wooden door on the left side of the hall. He’d always made a point to avoid this corridor. He’d never wanted to see it again, yet it beckoned him closer tonight. This could be the final opportunity to face his past. Once Vairik came for them—and Rion was certain the male would—this entire city could burn and be left forgotten for centuries. Their stories would be buried. Their sins forever erased from history.
He paused before it, examining the grains of wood and the brass handle that had vines carved into the metal. It was different from the door he’d walked through as a youngling. Had it been destroyed during the chaos of that night, or had Alec simply chosen to replace it?
The wood taunted him, standing as an ominous barrier to his tragic past. His fists clenched at his side. If he chose to open this door, would he find the rugs still stained with his father’s blood? Had the plants his father had sent after him been left to take over the space, or had they been contained after the High Lord’s death? Was the vase still broken and scattered across the floor? Did Saoirse’s blood still stain those jagged pieces?
Rion’s magic stirred at his feet, reminding him of the way it had moved in his father’s presence. He’d been too young back then. His emotions had run rampant. Rion’s jaw ticked. If he’d just—
“Take one more step …”
Rion froze and turned slowly toward his mother’s menacing voice. A shiver ran through his body at the unfinished threat in her words and for the briefest of moments, he thought his mother was finally seeing him as a monster, too.
But Lady Eimear wasn’t looking at him.
Rion turned to follow her gaze toward a pair of Fae standing in the shadows at the other end of the hall. One already had a weapon in hand. He hadn’t even heard them approach.
The High Lady of Brónach marched down the corridor, her bare feet silent on the cold marble. Eimear’s magic followed, curling along the walls, crawling across the ceiling, and cracking the very foundations of the floor. The two Fae wisely bowed their heads before dropping to their knees beneath those piercing green eyes.
Eimear, despite everything she’d suffered, was just as dominating as the stories had painted her to be. She was a vicious warrior with little room for mercy except where her younglings were concerned. And right now, one of them was being threatened. Stalked in his own home. If anyone was going to carve a statue in his mother’s honor, this was the scene they should depict. The ruthless warrior that had ruled over her country with an iron hand.
The High Lady wore a simple jade-colored dress, the fabric loose and flowing, stretching all the way to her ankles. It left her arms bare and came up to gently hug her neckline. She didn’t wear a cape or hood to hide the fact that her hair had just started growing back. It did nothing to diminish her beauty or feral nature.
