20. The betrayal
The betrayal
The moment they crossed through the mist, Riona shoved Vaelric back; ragged breaths trembled from her lips, the vision of Sorcha bleeding seared into her mind.
“What did you do?” she screamed.
Vaelric took a slow breath out and rolled his shoulders, as if he hadn’t just been sliced open and nearly killed.
He glanced at her, utterly unbothered. “Handled the situation, thanks though for caring.”
Riona’s hands curled into fists. “You stabbed her. You killed her!” She shoved again, this time harder, and he stumbled back.
Vaelric tilted his head, eyes flickering with annoyance. “She tried to kill me too! I’m holding my insides in, Riona.” Blood wept from his lips, and he coughed.
Riona stepped inches from his face, close enough to see the blood on his blade. Sorcha’s blood. She began to shake, her fists turning white, the world closing in as tunnel vision took over.
“You killed her.” She spat.
“Don’t be like this. I had no choice.” He spoke with a tinge of irritation.
Riona planted her foot, swung her arm back and smacked him across the face so hard her palm stung and blood stained her hand.
He then with his thumb wiped away the blood. “She’ll live.” His gaze met hers. “The blade hit armor. She’s not dead yet.”
A dull roar filled Riona’s ears. She didn’t know if it was relief or anger as the roar grew louder. Vaelric stepped past her, limping toward the massive castle gates ahead; blood trailed after him. She watched as his silhouette faded into the mist, people yelling and rushing towards him.
Riona shook her head, placing her hands at her sides.
With a long sigh, she collapsed into the grass and tilted her face to the sunlight.
She lay surrounded by flowers of every shade and shape.
Some she knew by name, others she didn’t, but she loved the ones that glowed after dark.
Their petals shimmered like stained glass, some like lilies, though their glow shifted from deep marine to soft amaranth and everything in between.
The scent of summer lingered in the air, a mix of citrus and pine.
“What do you think you are doing?” a voice snapped.
Riona cracked open one eye to find the gardener standing over her, his figure blotting out the sun.
“I am trying to relax, Quinn,” she said, and closed her eyes again.
“You are lying in the middle of my roses, Riona,” Quinn replied, clearly annoyed. “In a few short weeks, you’ve become quite the nuisance.”
“Can I please just lie here, Quinn?” she muttered, rubbing her temple.
He grumbled something under his breath as his shadow disappeared. The sun returned to her skin, and she smiled to herself. The moment was brief.
Sorcha’s face flashed in her mind. The way the light had drained from her eyes, how pale she had gone, blood spilling from the open wound.
Then came Vaelric’s smile. That sick satisfaction as he watched Sorcha fade. It made Riona’s stomach turn until she couldn’t sit still.
She pushed upright, arms wrapped around herself. A sudden cold had crept over the field, and the grass no longer felt soft beneath her. Everything felt wrong.
Tears welled up and spilled over before she could stop them. Her vision blurred. It was as if something inside her had snapped. She rocked gently, unable to stop the sting behind her eyes. The sobs came silent but full, soaking her sleeves and staining the ground beneath her.
Kyron’s voice echoed in her mind. Riona. The sound of it was raw: his confusion, his pain, the edge in his tone. It reminded her of the moment she lost Emry.
She let herself fall back again, lying in the grass, letting the emotions run until nothing was left but the ache.
Her stomach growled, a twist of pain in her gut. She hadn’t eaten, hadn’t even thought about food. She rubbed at the hollow feeling under her ribs. The tears had dried, leaving her skin cracked and tight.
When she finally stood, dusk had settled.
The light was low and golden, brushing the marble in the distance.
The marbled castle stood carved into the cliff-side, the sound of the ocean crashing into the bluffs below, its towers rising high above the gardens.
Colored crystal panes glowed in the fading sun, casting streaks of amber and rose across the ground.
The gold trim glittered faintly, as if it were holding on to the last light of day.
Iron-wrought gates loomed around the estate.
Fomorian soldiers patrolled in tight lines, their boots crunching against stone as the distant clash of swords echoed off the cliffs.
Combat training, she guessed, listening to the shouts and metallic shrieks.
She wove through the soldiers, most offering nothing more than a nod.
When a voice called from behind. “Xarnach’s been looking for you.”
She turned, startled, and stared up at a towering fomorian.
He wasn’t like the others. Half human, easily seven feet tall, with rough, bluish skin and deep emerald hair that shimmered like seawater.
His features were both handsome and fearsome, but it was his voice that truly struck her.
It was low, resonant, and powerful enough to ripple through her bones.
She scowled. “I don’t need to be babysat, Skurath.”
Skurath laughed. “You know he doesn’t give me much choice. And besides, Bres would skin us all if anything happened to you.”
He wasn’t joking. Bres was the coldest soul she had ever met. Even brief encounters with him left her blood chilled. His eyes were hollow, his smile always cruel. The kind of smirk worn by nobles who hid venom behind charm.
She made a point to avoid him and took every precaution to keep it that way.
“How long’s he been looking for me?” she asked with a sigh.
Skurath’s face turned grim. “Long enough that Bres noticed. They’re leaving again for the coast and Vaelric wants to see you.”
Her stomach dropped. Valeric was hurt, and she hadn’t cared at all. She didn’t even check on him. She gave Skurath a nod and moved toward the castle doors.
Riona moved through the castle’s halls, the quiet click of her boots swallowed by polished stone.
The place was breathtaking with its vaulted ceilings adorned with painted battles, chandeliers that dripped crystal like frozen starlight, and walls veined with gold leaf that shimmered even in shadow.
It was a palace meant to impress. But the beauty was surface deep, There was no warmth in the light, no life in the echo of her footsteps.
Just silence and cold marble, dressed up in finery.
It didn’t feel like a home. It felt like a tomb.
“Riona! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Where have you been?” An older man’s voice called from behind a pillar.
She turned to see Xarnach quickly approaching, his twisted body moving in odd strides. “Sorry to worry you, Xarnach. I was in the garden.”
“Come, come. We can talk later. Bres and Vaelric are waiting for you in the dining hall.”
Riona gave a weak smile and followed him.
As they entered the grand dining hall, Bres’s eyes landed on her with apparent disapproval.
It made Riona wince. She immediately looked toward Vaelric, seated at the far end of the table.
He didn’t sit at the head; instead; he chose a chair along the left side.
She slipped into the seat beside him. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time admiring the garden.”
Bres shot her a look. “Are you sure it wasn’t because of your friend?” he asked, voice low and pointed.
“Not at all. What’s done is done,” she replied smoothly. “And I believe Vaelric wouldn’t have acted without just cause.”
Bres studied her carefully, eyes scanning her face for any hint of deceit. After a long pause, he seemed satisfied. “Hmm. I wouldn’t want the woman who captured my son’s affection to deceive us. Why haven’t you come to see that his wounds have healed?
Riona kept her expression blank, forcing a small smile as she reached for Vaelric’s hand. “I knew he was in excellent hands; you have the best healers in the realm. And I would never betray him.”
The doors opened with a soft creak, and a procession of Fomorian servants entered the hall.
Each moved with practiced precision, balancing silver trays stacked with platters of roasted meats, vibrant fruits, and ornate bowls filled with thick stews and spiced grains.
Goblets carved from crystal were filled with dark wine that shimmered in the candlelight.
Riona said nothing as the dishes were laid before them, each course more elaborate than the last. The scent was rich and overwhelming, but her appetite had vanished. She kept her eyes on her plate, hands folded neatly in her lap.
Across the table, Bres spoke as if nothing were amiss.
“We’ll leave for the coast before first light,” he said, slicing into a piece of blood orange glazed venison. “The outposts near the cliffs are vulnerable, and I want to inspect the warding stones myself.” He faced Vaelric. “And how about the girl? You’re sure she won’t be an issue?”
Vaelric gave a nod, his mouth still full of bread. “Positive.”
With an unimpressed expression, Bres watched as Vaelric’s fingers closed more firmly around his fork. He clutched it as if he intended to stab him.
“Do you have something you’d like to say?” Bres asked, observing.
There were many things Vaelric yearned to say, including his envy of the love his sister received, the mother he never had the chance to know, and the repeated letdowns his father expressed with each order he fulfilled.
“Nothing,” he replied, putting his fork down.
The rest of their conversation faded into background noise as Riona slowly pushed food around her plate. Under the table, Vaelric rested a hand on her thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.
She glanced over, and he leaned in. “Not hungry?”
She shook her head. “Not really.”
His hand didn’t move, remaining a steady weight as the dinner dragged on. She forced a smile, doing her best to appear engaged, though her mind drifted far from the glowing chandeliers and silverware clinking against porcelain.