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“Yes sir.”

He did this for her. Rion allowed Eoghan to live because she’d asked him.

I need you to tell me because that’s all I have to go on.

Rion stalked past the knelt male, and Eoghan raised his head slightly to meet her gaze as she passed. Arianna gave him a gentle smile and he nodded. All he wanted was for her to be safe. Eoghan might not think Rion the safest company, but he did recognize him as the strongest and in Fae terms, strength translated to safety.

Arianna absorbed her surroundings as they marched through the camp. Rion slowed when she couldn’t match his pace, but the sheer dominance radiating from his presence didn’t fade in the slightest. She hadn’t been down this path since the first night she’d arrived. There’d been four other females with her that day, though one had perished soon after. Part of her still ached for the female, but there were so many she ached for nowadays.

Had those other three met Zylah or had they stayed with Lan and his comrades? Were they even still alive? She should have sought them out sooner. Inquired about their wellbeing at the very least.

Rion glanced back, likely scenting her distress. Arianna offered him a reassuring smile. There was nothing she could do for past lives lost. His magic floated between them and rose to caress her arms as if trying to console her. It moved gently across her skin, but she knew it could harden into something deadly should the need arise.

The sounds of hammers on metal still rang through the air. Smoke floated from fire after fire and though she tried not to stare at them, the slaves were ever-present.

One stood at his master’s side, the half-breed holding a stack of clean linens, awaiting permission to enter a tent. Another stirred a pot that rested over a fire, likely to serve as lunch for the day.

Arianna’s stomach clenched at the smell. She was sure nothing could be worse than the white gruel served at the mess hall, but she’d take that over whatever foul concoction boiled in that pot.

Another female had a bruise on her face. The one beside her, a split lip. Arianna’s heart hammered as they continued forward. She glimpsed a female redressing herself behind a flap, tears staining her cheeks. Then another fell to the ground, their master screaming obscenities about their clumsiness.

Rion eyed her. Adrenaline pumped through her body, a raging current she couldn’t control.This is Brónachshe reminded herself.Slavery is normal here. Slavery has been normal since—since when? Surely the last Divine hadn’t tolerated such things so when had it started? And why?

She remembered Zylah’s bruises and their unspoken rule about asking questions.

Arianna kept walking, her anger a hot iron boiling her blood. The first time she’d paraded through this camp, males had leered at her, and their desire had made her stomach churn. Now, they occupied themselves elsewhere, moving from Rion’s presence if they could do so unnoticed.

They barely glanced at the female trailing him.

Eoghan followed as well but kept his distance. She was certain Rion noticed too, though he gave no indication of it. As long as the male didn’t reveal her to everyone in the camp, she’d remain as she was. A slave to the general.

Another female cried out, thrown to the ground by her captor.

Was that what she wanted? To remain unknown. Could she really put an end to the suffering of thousands if she took her place as queen?

A familiar face entered her view before disappearing behind another dirty tent. Arianna picked up her pace, looking between the flaps and poles to catch a glimpse of her again.

Arianna couldn’t discern what Zylah carried, but she could see the chains dangling between the shackles around her wrists and ankles. The bruises staining her arms. Zylah had never had chains before. In fact, most slaves in the camp didn’t wear them. So why? Arianna’s anger stirred anew.

Zylah, with her head bowed and knees trembling, stopped before a male. One of Brónach’s many warriors. She couldn’t hear their exchange, but his snarl echoed loud enough for the other slaves to take several retreating steps away.

His broad hand came down on Zylah’s cheek hard enough to knock her from her feet.

Arianna’s blood ran cold.

Zylah, strong, outgoing Zylah, scrambled back with the male stalking forward. Whatever she’d held in her hands had fallen to the ground, completely forgotten.

I’ve had worse.Zylah had told her.

Arianna knew what that felt like. She knew the fear and uncertainty it brought. And she also knew how brutal the beating would be that followed.

And Arianna couldn’t take anymore.

The male lifted his hand to strike again, but Arianna was running, her magic flaring around her body in an uncontrollable current. Water shot from her palm and collided with his arm, blossoming into ice as it grew along his skin all the way up to his shoulder.

“Móirín,” the male shouted, forgetting Zylah as he dropped back into a stance and pulled at his magic. “Móirín is here!” Warriors surrounded the area, drawing their swords and knives while the slaves scrambled away. Fear and hatred filled the too-small space between tents and fires.

But Arianna was already moving. She drained the liquid from everything he summoned, leaving shriveled stems and leaves in her wake. He cursed, shot a quick glance at his comrades, then growled in warning. But only once.