Eimear pushed forward, prowling like a predator. Small vines crawled down her arms as she prepared to defend her family. Rion wasn’t sure he’d even have time to help should these two choose to stand against her. He’d witnessed Eimear fight when her body was on the brink of exhaustion. Now, she’d had time to rest and recover. And her magic was free.
Gods, his mother was finally free.
The two Fae turned up their wrists in surrender. “My Lady,” they said with reverence. Rion wondered if they were old enough to remember her from all those years ago. He alsowondered if they’d seen a child and still decided he was a monster.
Eimear stopped at his side, her magic dominating the space. “Many things are being revealed. Many changes are coming. Our country is on the brink of war.” She stared at them, daring them to rise. “You will cease this relentless obsession with taking my son’s life.”
Neither responded, probably wise on their part. Rion peered up at the ceiling, watching the plants crawl toward the pair, flowers and thorns left in their wake. He wondered if her infirmary room had been consumed with them, too.
“We meant no disrespect,” one of the males stuttered.
Eimear scoffed. “Trying to attack my son is the highest level of disrespect. The histories you believe have all been falsified by a male who thinks himself a god. Inform your comrades that if anyone dares to raise their hand against any of my children again, I will deal with them personally.”
“As you command, my Lady.”
The moment ticked by slowly, Eimear’s magic still inching forward. One flinched when a vine trailed across their boot, the threat obvious. “You’re dismissed. Don’t let me see you in the palace again.”
“Yes, my Lady.” The two kept their heads low as they stood, backed away, then fled as soon as they’d rounded the corner.
Rion glanced over to find his mother’s chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Her fists were relaxed, her shoulders, too. Eimear didn’t need to posture when her hardened eyes said everything her body didn’t. It was a wonder his father had survived their marriage. He could only imagine their arguments.
Rion glanced back toward the door that led to the study. “It’s not really their fault, you know. I didn’t exactly make their lives easy.” He didn’t know why he was defending them.
“You weren’t given a choice in the matter either.” Her tone was sharp, clipped, and Rion closed his mouth. Eimear seemed to catch herself and turned to him with a softened gaze. Then she faced the door and dread swept through Rion all over again. She wasn’t meant to be here, especially not with him.
Rion watched, his throat dry, as Eimear rested her palm over the wood. She closed her eyes and Rion wondered what images drifted through her mind. He’d seen her have visions before. Most were peaceful and it usually just appeared as if she’d fallen asleep. But others were violent. He’d seen her body thrash, his father holding her head carefully to prevent his mate from harming herself. She’d always end up in the infirmary after those.
He braced, waiting for whatever might follow, but his mother just stood there in silence. “Are you all right?” he eventually asked. She jolted slightly and Rion inwardly cringed.
Eimear didn’t answer for so long that Rion wondered if she even would. Perhaps this was one of her days where she needed the silence. Craved it. She’d just released her magic, and she’d also just returned to a home that wasn’t quite the same as it had been when she’d left. There was a hollowness now, he could sense it in her. Not just from the things those from Pádraigín had stolen from her, but from the thing he had taken, as well. The other part of her soul.
“I felt him,” Eimear said, her voice soft and strained with emotion. “I felt his despair the night he realized he’d lost me.” Her fingers traced over the door as if it were her lost lover. “I felt it change him day by day, consuming him like rot festering in an open wound. I felt it every night he searched for me, every moment he spent awake, in every nightmare that stole his sleep. I tried—” Her voice broke. “I tried to pull back on the bond. I tried to let him know I was okay and waiting but—” She paused again, staring at the firelight reflecting from the brass handle.“I couldn’t reach him no matter how hard I tried. It was like a blanket, no, a wall stood between us. I couldn’t make sense of it. I tried to escape so many times in the beginning. Niall would often let me believe I’d succeeded only for me to wake in chains again. He enjoyed those games the most, I think.”
Rion’s knuckles turned white.
Eimear stepped forward and pressed her forehead against the door. “I felt it the night he died,” she whispered, her voice catching on the final word. “I felt my heart torn from my chest and I fought. I fought so hard I tore nearly every ligament in my body. Niall had to sedate me for a time. Whenever I woke, I’d fight again. He mocked me for it, telling lie after lie, showing me how it happened over and over again. Each time was different, of course. I don’t think he really knew how it happened. He just heard the rumors like everyone else.”
Rion swallowed hard, his hands suddenly trembling. “D—did you ever find out?”
Eimear’s brow furrowed. Her eyes were open now, staring down at the floor. “I’m not sure. There’s so many images. I still can’t sort through what was real and what parts were fabricated.”
“It was me,” Rion admitted, his heart racing.
Eimear pushed up from the door and turned to him, but Rion couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze. “You were just a youngling.”
He swallowed hard, then the words came out in a rush. “It was the night my magic manifested. It—it was the summer solstice. Saoirse left me in his office and I just wanted to impress them. He’d been so distant, I thought he’d be proud.” Gods, why was he telling her this now? She’d just come from the infirmary. But his mother deserved the truth, no matter how painful. He’d never lie to her.
Eimear’s power swelled, climbing down the walls. Rion didn’t move.
“He tried to hurt you,” his mother said, her voice equal parts pained and disbelieving.
“He hesitated,” Rion said, desperately trying to find some way to defend the male she’d loved. “He hit me with a vine first, it was just a small scrape.” The truth was he could have killed Rion in an instant if he’d wished. Maybe part of his father had nearly broken the hold Vairik had over him.
“It wasn’t by your hand though, was it?”
Rion’s jaw ticked again. He didn’t want to admit the truth. He didn’t want Saoirse to suffer, too.
“It wasn’t.” Rion turned to find his sister just down the hall. She gave them both a half-hearted smile.
