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Arianna watched his face go pale and his lips part. He no longer stared at the female from Móirín. His gaze had shifted behind her, to the male Arianna hadn’t heard follow. She didn’t move as his sand crawled across the ground, rising to swirl around her body in a protective embrace.

Whatever warriors had stood to defend the male bolted and Zylah pressed her forehead to the ground so hard Arianna thought she might become one with it. Rion paused at her side, his gaze shifting from the male that had fallen to his knees then back to her.

He wasn’t angry, if anything Rion seemed, inquisitive. Arianna wasn’t sure what she’d had planned when she ran to aid her friend, but she couldn’t back down now, not with Rion standing at her side. She’d intended to pose as his slave, but she’d broken that façade herself.

Rion’s magic crawled across the ground like a million insects swarming and wrapped around the male, lifting his body. The shriek that escaped his lips sent a shiver down Arianna’s spine. She turned to look at the powerful male beside her and the way he studied the creature in his grasp.

I need you to tell me.

Could she ask for this?

Though he’d been violent toward Zylah and likely violent to many others, the warrior clenched in Rion’s grasp hadn’t done anything wrong. Not by Brónach’s standards, anyway. His actions angered her, yes, but what would death accomplish?

“Rion.” The name fell from her lips like a plea. She wasn’t sure how to act around him with eyes watching. She didn’t know what he wanted or how much he cared about their opinions. Rion’s feral gaze slid to hers and his eyes, usually so filled with hate, softened. Softened for her. Arianna felt like someone had struck her. Anything, she realized. Rion would give her anything.

He shifted his attention back to the male and let a murderous growl rip from deep in his chest before throwing him into the nearest tent. It crumbled, knocking everything around it over. One warrior scrambled to ensure nothing caught flame while the male fought his way out of the fabric and backed away, ducking his head in surrender.

Rion growled again, directing it toward everyone who’d come to watch. “Consider this your warning. If anyone,anyone, touches this female,” he gestured toward Arianna, “they will personally answer to me. They will suffer. Slowly.” His eyes roamed the small crowd, daring anyone to challenge him. “Is that in any way unclear?”

No one answered.

Rion surveyed the crowd again, then turned to her. He still wasn’t angry, only curious, telling her he’d likely ask questions later. But now wasn’t the time. Rion inclined his head behind her and Arianna turned, but not before casting another glance at Zylah who hadn’t lifted her head from the ground. Her body was shaking but Arianna’s hands were tied. Zylah was one of many. If she genuinely wanted to make a change, Arianna would need to do it on a much larger scale.

She steeled herself and instead of keeping her head down, as a good slave might have, Arianna met the gaze of every warrior they passed. Some stared, others averted their eyes as if she were someone to be feared. She guessed, being with Rion, that was a plausible assumption.

Could she really change their fates if she took up her place as The Divine? Her mother had outlawed slavery in Móirín when she’d married her father. If being the High Lady could do that, then perhaps being the Queen of the Fae could release them all.

The tent line stopped revealing an open space that led to a larger tent with two guards stationed at the front. They stiffened and stood straighter when Rion passed, but neither looked at her.

Seven males rose to their feet when Rion entered. They eyed her, then gestured their general toward the table. Candles sat at the table’s center, illuminating a map with wooden figures scattered across it. There were other maps hanging on the tent flaps, furs placed on the ground, and enough chairs for everyone to sit, though no one made to.

Rion leaned against the table, splaying his hands wide as he surveyed the markers. “Let’s not waste my time today.”

Arianna tried not to listen as they discussed the plan to annihilate Móirín’s northern settlements. She tried not to listen as they detailed her people’s movements and location. But the more she tried to ignore it, the more she found herself memorizing the information.

Talon could be with them. He could be at risk, find himself ambushed, and left to die just like the warriors she’d felled yesterday.

She eyed the map, her gaze roaming over the entire continent. So much land. So many lives. How was she supposed to bring peace to a world so divided? Each country guarded their boarders and resources fiercely. Trade negotiations were always stressful events. The sheer anger had Arianna wondering where it’d all started.

There had been another Divine once. Hadn’t she brought their land peace or had she failed in her attempt? Arianna couldn’t recall what her lessons said on the matter.

But if the last Divine had successfully ruled over the continent then what had lead to so much discourse in the centuries that followed?

And if the previous Divine had failed how then was she supposed to succeed. She was eighteen and had only left the borders of her homeland in chains.

Arianna didn’t know the far mountain ranges and grand stone halls of Fiadh. She’d never walked beneath the giant trees that protected Brónach’s capital city nor had she glimpsed Pádraigín’s seaside port that traded with the northern continent.

How could she hope to rule a world she didn’t know?

“Arianna.” She startled at Rion’s voice. “Perhaps you should wait outside.”

She glanced at the wary faces watching her. Right, she was probably filling the tent with anxiety.

She exited quickly and seated herself on a nearby bench. Those in the vicinity moved further away. Arianna ignored them and looked toward the field beyond the camp’s border. She could see the field in the distance along with the hill where she’d stood upon first laying eyes on this dreadful place.

She should run. She shouldwantto run, but the thought of leaving Rion twisted her gut so hard she thought she’d be sick.

So, what was a daughter of Móirín to do?