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Rion
Rion’s lungs screamed, his heart slammed against his ribcage, and his legs cried in protest as he ran and ran and ran. A small group of them, his sister included, set out ahead of Brónach’s army intending to announce their arrival to Móirín’s High Lord.
But Rion didn’t bother waiting for them. Arianna was in danger. He didn’t have time to wait on anyone. He’d thought leaving meant protecting her, that Móirín would have the strength to fend off any attack.
Rion knew Levea’s defenses better than anyone. He’d infiltrated them once. And he also knew how aggressively the shadow weavers from Fiadh fought. Rion growled, letting the sound echo through the trees. No matter how hard he pushed himself, no matter how much he wanted it, Rion wouldn’t get there in time.
He prayed the ten thousand marching on Móirín weren’t all shadow weavers, because if they were, Fiadh was about to rule the land of Alastríona. Their magic was wild and wicked, even more so than his. They were said to have once been the royals’ defenders, a personal guard to the king and queen of the Fae. But they hadn’t had a royal leader in thousands of years and Arianna’s identity was still largely a secret.
If their loyalty meant anything anymore.
If they killed her. Rion ground his teeth. If they killed her, he’d rip their country apart.
He’d committed so many sins. Rivers of blood ran at his feet. The names of innocents were engraved on his soul. He had no right. He knew it, but Rion still prayed to the gods. He prayed they’d punish him, torture his body instead of using Arianna’s fate to tear his heart to shreds.
Please.He begged whatever god might be listening.Please.Curse him, hate him, let his soul be devoured by the worst creatures imaginable.Just please don’t touch her.
RION SCENTED the waterfalls of Levea and slowed to a walk. His chest heaved as he sucked in lungful after lungful of air and scanned the perimeter. Fire rose on the western side, the smoke a thick blot against the azure sky. He prayed Arianna was in her family’s estate, safe, perhaps huddled with her sister as they waited for the battle to end.
He scented the area, searching for guards, but if any were present, they were well within the capital city’s borders. Stupid to leave themselves vulnerable. And unlike Móirín.
Saoirse skidded to a halt at his side and placed her hands on her knees. Sweat dripped down her face and when she stood, she leaned against the nearest tree, struggling for breath. “Alec told us not to run through the night, remember?”
“You didn’t have to follow.” The rest of their squadron arrived one by one, all bent over like his sister. One even heaved, his face red from exertion. Maybe the male would learn to train harder after today.
“I’m not sure where your head is right now, but if you try walking in there alone, they’ll rip you in half.”
He smirked at that. They could certainly try. “I hadn’t planned to announce myself.”
Saoirse pushed off from the tree and wiped the sweat from her brow. “This is going to be tricky enough, we shouldn’t do anything to provoke them.” Rion ignored her and looked beyond the city to the main estate positioned high above everything else. His sister’s gaze followed. “Do you think she’s there?”
Rion’s jaw feathered. “Let’s hope so.” He looked back toward the billowing clouds of smoke. Because if she was in the middle of that…Rion’s throat went dry.
“Let’s get this started then.” Saoirse led the way with Rion and twelve other warriors following. He didn’t know what she’d told them about his presence, but thankfully, none had tried to put a knife in his back. At least, not yet.
Their group approached the eastern gate with its long, white bridge separating them from the island city of Levea. They walked at a snail’s pace, too slow for his liking. His hair stood on end, and he watched the upper towers vigilantly. Even during a siege, he knew Móirín wasn’t stupid enough to leave their borders defenseless. So where was everyone?
The scent of blood and flesh permeated the air, calling to him like an old song. It danced with his blood, along with the faint screams in the distance. Any one of them could be Arianna. Any moment could be her last. If he found her body instead—
“Calm down,” his sister hissed.
“Then walk faster,” he replied through gritted teeth.
As they neared the end of the bridge, a call of warning echoed across the quiet expanse and Saoirse held up her hand for them to pause.
“Name yourselves,” a voice demanded. Rion’s eyes scanned the towers again, then locked onto a male with his back pressed against the far wall. The gate wasn’t high enough to prevent him from jumping it. All he had to do was run, and he’d be through, he could always ask for Saoirse’s forgiveness later.
“We’re from Brónach,” Saoirse replied. “I’m here to speak with your High Lord regarding—”
Rion lunged to his sister’s side, catching the spears of ice with his sand before they could penetrate her heart and lungs. Two in their party weren’t quick enough and fell to the ground, clutching their throats before they stopped moving altogether.
“Looks like we’re doing things my way.” Fury tore from the ground as Rion ran toward the guard. Water formed from all directions at once and flew at him, but Rion’s magic soaked it up, and he launched it far away from his body before jumping the gated wall and grabbing the male by the throat. He caught four others with his magic, suspending their bodies in the air. One wetted himself. Another cried.
Rion growled in the male’s face. “When someone says they want to speak with your High Lord, you do not attack them.”
He whimpered and Saoirse ran to Rion’s side. “Let him go.”
Reluctantly, Rion dropped the male and he scrambled back, looking at Rion as if he were a monster. Because he was. Only Arianna thought him otherwise.
