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Chapter Twenty-One
Rion
Rion dismissed the males and paused on the tent’s threshold. The two guards froze, one sucking in a breath at his proximity, but he didn’t care about their comfort. His only focus was Arianna. His magic told him she hadn’t wandered far, but her scent from earlier hadn’t changed either. She was angry. Frustrated.
Was it from the incident with the slave or their discussion about Móirín’s northern settlements?
He knew Móirín had outlawed slavery long before she was born, but he hadn’t expected her to act out against it. Perhaps her own experiences in captivity had something to do with her actions. Did she still think of herself as a slave? It wasn’t as though he’d verbalized her freedom, he’d just assumed—
His gaze fell to the water flipping through her fingers. It glided between her index and middle finger, slid to her ring finger, around her pinky, and back to her thumb, much in the same way he’d seen others roll a coin across their knuckles.
Half-breed slaves were the only ones anywhere near her, but even they kept their distance. He studied her body posture. Arianna sat like a serpent ready to strike. Despite her usually calm demeanor, he knew a warrior when he saw one.
Her magic was precise and calculated. On the battlefield, she’d moved with grace and elegance. Yet that night she’d shed tears for her enemy. Was it all a façade?
Rion wanted to believe she was genuine. With everything in his being he wanted to believe her sweet words. She’d saved his life more than once, after all. But—but what if she’d simply doubted herself? What if she was bidding her time? What if he wanted to believe in her so much that he’d blinded himself to the truth?
Pain blossomed in his chest, and he placed one hand over the area, clutching the fabric of his shirt. He’d felt the sting of betrayal more than once, but this time—this time he might just let it happen. To have a taste of what she offered only to have it ripped away—Rion shook his head. He wasn’t sure he could bear it.
Test her then, his thoughts urged. He could. She needed to work off steam, and he needed to know, once and for all. It wouldn’t be out of character for him. After all, what else did a demon know but violence?
He stepped forward and felt something in his chest pull again.Please, he begged the gods.Please don’t let this be the end.
ARIANNA WAS silent and kept her head down as they walked through the camp. She didn’t want to see the rest of the slaves but she could still hear them. Whimpers. The crack of a whip. It stirred her blood, calling her to defend the defenseless.
Rion had simply inclined his head and she’d followed but he didn’t lead her toward the cabin. Instead, Rion had marched straight toward the forest and she hadn’t bothered to ask why.
“You’re angry.”
What could she say to that? It wasn’t as though she could deny it. Shewasangry. Angry at the slaves kept against their will. Angry at the High Lords who believed this war would lead to something. And angry at herself for not standing up sooner.
She should have run when she had the chance. She should have told Eoghan to take her home, but her own heart was at war with itself, wondering whether loving Rion—she paused.
Love? Did she love him?
Arianna stopped in her tracks, her mind churning with memories of everything she’d endured. He paused as well, turning to look at her. His brow furrowed. “What?”
Had she fallen in love with her enemy?
Arianna looked away, struggling to catch her breath. That explained it then. Her inability to choose between two things she cherished. Rion and her country.
He fidgeted, his magic shifting at his feet before taking a cautious step forward. “Is it because of the half-breed?”
Arianna chewed her lower lip. “That’s part of it. We don’t mistreat them in Móirín.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Slavery is an old custom. In my country, they’re viewed and treated as equals. So are humans.” She gave him a half-smile. “For the most part, anyway.” Her father had his limits. He’d never allow a human or half-breed sit on the council or marry one of his daughters. Though Arianna was certain her sister would have a few things to say about her own destiny when the time came.
Rion turned away. “They’re all slaves in Brónach. We don’t have many humans, but—”
“I know.”
He clasped his hands together then let them hang at his side. She’d never seen him so unsettled. “I’m not opposed to learning Móirín’s way. I’d be curious even, to see how they live without oppression.”
Her voice lowered. “Do you think I could end their torment if I told everyone? If I stood up as The Divine?”
He stopped fidgeting. “It’s possible. Is that something you want?”
