Chapter Twelve
Rion woke with a splitting headache. His mouth was dry, eyes strained, and it felt as though someone had poured molten lava through his veins.
He shivered from the cold floor and risked opening his eyes. The room was dark, save for a sliver of sunlight trickling through the cracked door.
He forced himself upright and pain shot through his arm. A different sort of pain.
Rion’s stomach churned and he barely had enough time to scramble for the toilet before it emptied itself into the porcelain bowl. He expected no less after drinking an entire bottle of liquor the night before.
He stayed there, hovering before sinking back on his knees. Rion peered down at his arm only to find it wrapped in a tight bandage.
It took his mind too long to recall the events of last night and how—Rion glanced back toward the blanket that had been draped over him. His heart beat just a little faster. Selina. She’d kept her word. More than that, she’d bandaged his arm and ensured he was cared for.
Her words floated back to him again. I haven’t decided yet.
Did she plan to disobey Alec? Was that too much to hope for?
Rion rubbed his temples, nursing the splitting headache before he carefully stood. He flipped on the light and blinked against the offending brightness. She’d left another roll of clean bandages on the edge of the sink, along with a container of salve. Things she didn’t have to do.
Rion peered into the hall, searching it up and down before seating himself on the cushioned bench in the bathroom.
Slowly, he peeled away the bandage along his arm. It stuck to the dried blood and he winced at the discoloration and swollen skin. He should probably clean it first. Rion eyed the glass in the sink, then opted for the shower.
Afterward, Rion raided the governor’s room for clothes. At least the male had decent taste. He collected weapons and avoided the cold bodies still littering the floor.
Rion hadn’t intended to kill everyone, but when he’d accused them of working with the rebels, they hadn’t denied it. They’d attacked him instead and after the governor’s comment about his sister, the male had found himself without a hand, then a head.
Rion tore a strip of sheet in half, then fashioned it into a sling before making his way downstairs. He paused at the picture frame Selina had mentioned last night. She’d torn it from the wall and emptied the safe behind.
Had she left? Perhaps she’d taken her companions and already traveled south. Maybe she’d found a list of names and had gone out to wrap things up.
Selina—he was alive because of her. Despite his childish actions, she’d come back. He just needed to figure out if she’d come back for him or to watch how he handled himself in a fight. He still wasn’t sure whether he should continue the mission to head back to Nàdair.
Rion walked past the last of the bodies and crinkled his nose at the mess. The blood.
He stepped over broken glass and the splintered wood of the door, then exited to find several dozen Fae standing just outside, all whispering and pointing.
Officials were dressed in their uniforms and quietly tried to usher onlookers away.
He stepped beyond the threshold and all eyes snapped to him. Several stepped back while others drew their weapons. He eyed them and his magic rose in answer. He really didn’t feel like fighting again. Not with his head near splitting from the bright sun.
Rion stepped again and they retreated. Two in the back outright fled. Their gazes were wary, fearful, disgusted.
Several whispered prayers to the gods, and the crowd parted to give him a wide birth as he followed the broken path.
Rion paused to address the nearest official. “The governor is dead.” The male sucked in a breath. “He and his staff were responsible for illegal activities against the crown and paid for it with their lives. See to it that such mistakes aren’t repeated.”
Rion didn’t wait for the male to respond before he left them all behind.
He ignored the citizens who fled from his presence. Ignored the inn where he and Selina had slept beneath the same roof, and ignored the street still stained with blood.
No one tried to stop him.
No one spoke to him.
And best of all, no one lunged for him again.
Gods he needed a hot cup of coffee.
Outside the gates, Rion caught Selina’s floral scent and followed it toward the wood line. He wasn’t sure if she even wanted to see him. If not, he’d begin the long trek back to Nàdair where he’d heal and collect his own information.
The afternoon sun beat down upon him and Rion had a sheen of sweat covering his face by the time he entered the trees. He could smell the alcohol dripping from his pores. He already needed another shower.
A small cabin hidden by the trees entered his view but raised voices had him slowing. He caught another’s scent. A male’s. What was his name again? Rion couldn’t remember. Seán maybe? Rion edged toward the side of the cabin, keeping his footsteps quiet.
“I cannot believe you,” Seán sneered. “He’s the entire reason we’re out here. He’s why the people are rebelling in the first place. You’re telling me you had the perfect opportunity and you didn’t take it?”
Rion clenched his good fist. Seán was too close, towering over Selina with his hands raised. She shrugged, refusing to back down. “I still need him.”
The male looked ready to argue further, then his lips parted. “You care about him.” It didn’t come out as a question. Selina looked away and disgust crawled over the male’s face. “I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”
Selina squared her shoulders, but Rion couldn’t see her face. “Then don’t say anything. Your job is to follow orders.”
“Given your abhorrent fascination, maybe someone else should be giving them.”
Her fists curled, but Rion emerged from the shadows. Seán visibly responded to his presence. His lips pulled back from his teeth and one hand went for the hilt of the long knife at his hip. His eyes darted to the sling holding Rion’s arm in place.
Selina lifted her brows in surprise.
Seán growled, “If you won’t do it—”
Everything happened all at once.
Vines broke from the earth’s surface and shot toward Rion’s torso. His own magic answered in kind, rising to greet a partner in a deadly dance. Rion drew his blade at the same moment Seán did. He let the sling fall away and ignored the pain radiating from the recent wounds.
Selina’s scream roared above it all.
The two clashed. Steel sang against steel.
Seán pivoted. Rion ducked around snaking vines. Chunks of earth ripped the greenery to shreds.
Rion studied Seán’s movements, slowing enough to keep pace. The male was sloppy, almost a novice compared to Selina. How he’d managed to earn a place on her team, Rion couldn’t fathom. This weak male wasn’t worthy of her. He couldn’t protect her, and he certainly didn’t deserve to stand at her side.
Rion wrenched the blade from Seán’s grasp, planted an elbow in the male’s sternum, then gripped his throat with one hand and squeezed the delicate muscles.
The male’s magic whipped out in desperation, trying to fight Rion off, but Rion strangled the life from it. The male’s nails raked down Rion’s good arm, but he only squeezed tighter, watching the male’s face turn purple as he struggled for breath. Sand wrapped around the male’s wrists and pinned them down at his sides.
“Rion.”
He froze.
His name from her lips yanked Rion from his bloodlust. He was powerless against the pull. Completely at her mercy.
He reluctantly tore his eyes away from the male and his stomach knotted when he met her gaze.
“Don’t hurt him.” Her wide amber eyes darted between Rion and the male. Frantic. Desperate.
Rion turned back to the male and growled low as he said, “If you ever speak to her like that again, I’ll rip you apart.”
Seán nodded slowly, then Rion released him and stepped back. The male fell to his knees, coughing and spluttering as he gasped for air.
And Rion might have relished standing over him. Just to show Selina he was the more dominate of the two. More qualified to protect her.
The male caught his breath and sat up to glare at him with bloodshot eyes.
“Go.”
The male stumbled to his feet, glanced at Selina once, then disappeared through the trees. The two stood in silence for a long while. He cast her a quick glance, but she was looking at the place where Seán had disappeared.
Rion clenched his jaw. She stepped, gave him an apologetic smile, then followed the male.
He loosed an uneasy breath. Her comrades would always come first. And he couldn’t really fault her for it. He was still mostly a stranger, after all.
Rion pivoted on his heel and followed the scent of the nearby river. He relished the sound of the water. The crisp scent that filled and cleared his lungs.
He found a tree and collapsed near the bank, letting his back rest against the trunk. Water was the only thing that ever seemed to calm the raging storm in his soul.
Rion scattered loose dirt around his body then let his eyes drift shut. It wasn’t long after that he heard her faint footsteps, then scented the wildflowers.
She sat at the edge of the bank without speaking, far enough away that she couldn’t touch him, but close enough that Rion kept an eye on her.
She’d helped him. Saved him hours of agony. Yet she’d been commanded to kill him by her High Lord. Where would that leave them in the end?
Would she try to kill him later? Use him then kill him? Decide to defy his brother and not kill him at all? Was it pity that steadied her hand or something else?
“Thank you,” she finally said. He cracked one eye open to see her wrap her arms around her knees. “I know he can seem harsh, but we’ve been friends since we were younglings.”
Rion perked up at that. “You grew up together?”
She nodded. “He was my first rival of sorts. We didn’t like each other much back then.”
What about now? He wanted to ask. Were they more than comrades?
Silence stretched between them again.
“How are you holding up?” she asked.
“It won’t hinder my ability.” He flexed his hand and winced.
“I meant, how are you ?” she emphasized. He raised a brow. “You know, your well-being?”
“What about it?”
She gave him an incredulous look. “You were just attacked. I thought that maybe—”
“I’ve gotten used to it over the years.”
She turned away. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That you have to live with that. It’s not . . . well, I certainly wouldn’t want to live that way.”
He ventured to guess that most wouldn’t. “It’s the hand I’ve been dealt.”
“Fate’s a cruel mistress.”
“She can be.”
Selina pushed a strand of hair from her face and clasped her hands over her knees again. “Seán and Niamh intercepted two birds carrying orders south. Both were informing unnamed parties about the governor’s death.” She waited to see if he’d respond before continuing. “Both carried the depiction of a flying crow in the corner. We’ve seen the mark a few other times before.”
“So what are we waiting for?” Selina looked up at him. “Your cover isn’t blown, we can continue the mission. Most will just assume I was acting out.”
“That happens often, doesn’t it?”
His jaw worked. “Again, I’m used to it.”
“What about your injuries?”
“They’re nothing I can’t handle.”
“Good, because our bags are packed.”
He blinked, then smirked. “Please tell me you didn’t pack all the junk you accumulated over the last few days.”
“It’s not junk,” she feigned offense. “And since you’re hurt, I can’t expect you to carry it, can I?” She waved a hand. “I’ve already arranged shipment back to Nàdair. There was a very enthusiastic merchant happy to accept a month’s wages and free lodging.”
“Be careful that your bags aren’t tampered with when you get back.”
“Worried for me?”
He scoffed. “You’ve been seen with me. A lot of Fae are dead. If you sent anything edible, I certainly wouldn’t risk it. Poisoning doesn’t seem like a very glorious way to go.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I have full intentions to die on the battlefield with a small army at my command.”
“That’s . . . dramatic.”
She waved a hand. “What can I say, I’ve always had a flare for theatrics.”
The river filled the silence again. A fish jumped, breaking the water’s surface momentarily before disappearing again.
“South, then?” he inquired.
“Northeast.”
“We’re splitting from the other two?”
“Naturally.”
“You found something in the vault.”
“Maybe. It could be nothing, but I won’t know for sure until we arrive.”
Rion tried to conjure an image of Brónach’s map in his mind. “What’s Northeast?”
“A small village off the beaten path. A great hiding place, don’t you think?”
“Just you and me?”
“Is that a problem?
“Didn’t anyone ever warn you not to trust strangers?”
“You’re only a little bit of a stranger, and you didn’t kill me last night so—”
“That’s my line.”
She shrugged. “You could have easily added me to the body count. You didn’t.”
“It’s called common courtesy.” He thought back to her argument with Seán. “Is that why Captain Asshole was so pissed? Because you’ll be alone with me?”
She laughed at that. “Yeah. But he doesn’t like the thought of me being alone with any male.
“He . . . desires you?”
She shrugged. “He’s not been subtle about it, but I think I need alcohol to travel down that road.”
Rion’s stomach rolled. “I think I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.” He stared at her sidelong. “Thank you, by the way, for—well—last night.”
“You’re welcome.” She stood and dusted off her shorts before approaching and offering her hand. “Come on, let’s get moving and see if we can’t find a decent inn before nightfall.”