Chapter Seven
They spent two weeks reliving their childhood memories. Neither stepped foot inside their parents’ room, though Rion stared longingly at the door every morning, imagining his mother exiting with a smile on her face.
The pair swam in the lake, made breakfast every morning, and basked in the warm afternoon sun. It was the life he longed for and the life he could never have.
Reality forced Rion to shoulder his pack. Saoirse had left before him, claiming she needed to return to the palace. He, in turn, took his time, unwilling to leave the little sanctuary where his life had been nearly perfect.
He’d had everything a child could ever want.
Now—Rion didn’t allow himself to finish that thought.
Three days later and Rion stood before Caol’s cabin. He could hear the male moving around inside and knew full well that Caol had sensed his presence a quarter mile off.
Rion heard a piece of silverware clank against a plate followed by the sound of wood scraping across the floor. The boards creaked. Rion swallowed hard. He didn’t realize how nervous he’d be. He’d lived with Caol for six years and the male was like a father to him, no matter how much Caol denied it.
The door swung open on silent hinges. Caol crossed his arms, leaned against the doorframe, and stared him down. “You didn’t run.”
“Do I have a reason to?”
“You tell me.”
Tension filled Rion’s body. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” Aside from being somewhere he shouldn’t have been.
“That’s debatable.” Rion clenched his fists then relaxed again. His magic stirred around his feet; it didn’t go unnoticed.
Caol’s gaze lifted and Rion tried not to step back as the male surveyed him. “Where have you been?”
“Saoirse sent a letter.”
Caol’s jaw ticked and he pinned Rion with a chilling stare. “A letter,” he scoffed. “I’ll ask again. Where have you been?”
Realization dawned on him. Caol wanted to see if Saoirse had lied. “We were at the lake house.” Caol raised a brow. “Just myself and Saoirse. She had a leave after her last mission.”
Caol scented the air. “Why did you come back?”
“I—” Saoirse had been certain Caol wouldn’t kick him out, but . . . maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe he didn’t have a home anymore. “Would you prefer it if I left?” He wasn’t prepared for the pain that radiated through his chest. A far deeper one than the wound left by Liam.
“Three Fae barely more than younglings are dead. Three unidentified warriors from Brónach are dead. And those who lived claim you’re at fault.” The muscles in his forearm flexed. “And you leave ,” he seethed, “while the rest of us cleaned up your mess.”
Three younglings, not two. “The male didn’t make it.” The words were barely more than a whisper.
Caol remained still, showing no signs of emotion. “He didn’t. The blade was too close to his heart. There was nothing to be done.”
Rion stepped back and slumped against the nearest tree. Liam would never forgive him now. Rion had seen the way he’d looked at the young male. The love and pleading in his eyes.
Rion’s voice softened. “Did you ever find out who they were?”
“No. Their bodies are still being identified.”
Rion shook his head. “They just . . . attacked us.”
“Unprovoked?”
Rion didn’t miss the accusation. “Yes, unprovoked. All of them would probably have died if I hadn’t intervened.”
“If you’d done as you were told and never left the grounds, they might all still be alive.” The familiar ache of blame and guilt washed through him. Caol tapped his boot. “The younglings have an interesting spin to the story. They claim you were allied with the three males. Care to explain?”
Rion shrugged, his heart aching, bleeding all over again. “I suppose for the same reason they label me an abomination.”
Caol pinched the bridge of his nose. “You realize you could have blown our cover? That I could be in a dungeon right now trying to explain why I’ve harbored you for the past six years? Did you bother to stop and think about any of that?” He had, but Rion had also been confident in his ability to stay hidden. Caol didn’t wait for a response. “This is why I tell you to stay up here.”
Rion threw his bag to the ground, magic swelling in an angry frenzy. “Maybe I’m sick of being trapped here! Maybe I’m tired of hiding from the world when I haven’t done anything wrong!”
Caol pushed off the wall, his own voice raising. “Because of you, your father’s entire elite force is dead.”
“I didn’t kill my father.”
“You might as well have.” Caol’s words struck true. There it was, after all these years. Caol didn’t blame Saoirse for the events of that night. He blamed Rion.
If not for the magic, then his father, the High Lord, wouldn’t have reacted the way he had. And Saoirse wouldn’t have been put a position to make a life-altering decision.
Caol blew out a frustrated breath and ran a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Rion didn’t respond. He couldn’t because Caol was right. Caol and his father had been close friends. They’d grown up together and were allies during the battles of their time. Caol had been friends with his father’s guards, too.
And Rion had killed them when he was only eight years old. A fluke probably due to surprise but still, Rion was responsible for more than one of Caol’s loved ones’ demise.
Thunder rolled overhead and Rion glanced toward the pack he’d tossed to the ground. He should go. Release Caol from the responsibility put on him by his sister. Let the male return to a peaceful life.
A drop of rain fell from the gray sky and landed beside Rion’s leather boot. Another landed just a few feet ahead, heavy and with the promise of early spring’s chill.
“Come inside.” A half-hearted command.
Rion stepped back. He could stay at the lake house for a little while, maybe even a year if he were careful. He could formulate a plan with Saoirse. They’d come up with something.
But he’d be isolated again.
Alone again.
The wind picked up and Rion shivered against the brisk chill. He reached down for his pack.
“Whatever you’re thinking, boy, stop thinking it.”
“You don’t want me here.”
“Maybe so.” The words stung. “But you don’t have anywhere else to go and your sister will string me up alive if you disappear again.” Rion’s jaw worked. “So you’re going to come inside and we’re both going to cool off while we eat a warm meal.” Caol opened the door behind him a bit wider.
The drops continued, pebbling the dry earth at Rion’s feet. “Why did you agree to take me in?”
Caol loosed a long sigh. “Because your sister asked me to. And because you were a youngling with nowhere to go. Do you really think I’d just turn my back on a child?”
A shrug. “My father tried to kill one.”
“So did I once.”
Rion’s gaze slowly lifted and Caol looked away. The male never looked away. He’d never shown shame for any of his actions. Even those during the war.
“I had a nephew that—well, he was like you. It was centuries ago, but—” his jaw worked. “The memory of that day still haunts my nightmares.”
“You killed him.”
It wasn’t a question but Caol shook his head. “A guard did, I just . . . didn’t do anything to stop it. That night . . . it changed everyone involved.” Is that why he chose to live in isolation? Was Caol punishing himself?
“His parents, my sister, are long gone from this world. As are my other nieces and nephews. The war wasn’t kind to our family.”
Silence fell over the space again. The rain picked up. “Now, will you please come inside so we don’t have to sit out here and let the rain add to our misery?”
Rion debated again with another long look through the trees. He should go, despite Caol’s confession. He should turn away and never look back.
But Rion walked down that familiar stone path and followed his teacher inside.
The male made him a plate without asking and set it on the table. Rion hung his pack and cloak up, shoved out of his boots, then settled across from Caol in his usual seat.
Silence was a heavy blanket over the space. Suffocating, really.
They ate without speaking. Rion showered and changed into clean clothes, then curled up on his usual cot in the corner.
Caol sat before the fireplace, staring at the embers as if they contained the answer to a centuries-old question. He’d seen a youngling killed before his eyes and he’d done nothing to stop it.
Rion raised his hand and glanced at his palm. The movement drew Caol’s gaze a moment.
He never thought he’d kill or be part of anyone’s war. His mother had always shielded him from the harsh things in life. But she couldn’t shield him now. His reality had turned into a battle. One that was just beginning. One he’d likely never escape.
Rion rolled over, turning his back to Caol and closed his eyes. He could feel the male’s gaze. Caol had possessed a strange look on his face throughout the night that made Rion wonder if he’d be better off outside.
He took another breath and set his fears aside. Caol had made a promise to Saoirse, and breaking that promise would mean tainting his honor as a Fae male. He wouldn’t throw away decades of trust. Not after he’d put in so much time.
Rion hoped.