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Arianna had gone silent down the bond as she cared for the wounded. Thank the gods there were wounded. He’d peered over the edge of the roof just once before darting away. Most of the children had made it out and he’d recognized a few of the adults as well. But the rest—

Rion had felt his mate’s initial spike of panic and the ache in her heart, but he hadn’t felt the sting of anger he’d expected from her. At least, no anger directed his way. He knew what the villagers were telling her and he knew none of it would smell like a lie. Because someone from Pádraigín had made it look like he was guilty.

Rion let her work. He wouldn’t risk distracting her, especially in the event she was trying to save someone’s life. Had that little girl made it out? The boy with the iron on his wrist? Rion had never gotten the chance to question him about it.

Gods. He threaded his fingers through his hair and tugged on the strands. How had everything gone so wrong? He knew why, the why was easy. They wanted him gone. Eliminated so they could follow through with their initial plans of putting Niall on the throne.

But to resort to this.

Rion had seated himself on the roof in the shadow of a chimney that jutted at an awkward angle. It was the only place he could think of to go with so many guards patrolling the area. They wouldn’t search up here, he hoped, and the smoke would drown out his scent. If they found him and he had to flee—Rion shook his head. He’d face the possibility if it came to that.

She believed him. Rion still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the idea. He was so sure she would doubt him, that those around her, especially the victims, would be able to convince her of his guilt, but Arianna never doubted him for a second.

He marveled at it. Marveled at her.

Someone was trying to get rid of him. He’d known it since the ball when he’d seen the naked female and scented her desire. Hell, he’d known it from the first time Niall had shown Arianna a memory of his mother, likely hoping to anger Rion into action.

No one wanted him here. No one aside from Arianna. And maybe Ellie. He wondered what Ellie was making of the chaos.

Rion stretched his legs out. He needed a hot shower. He needed to change his clothes and rid himself of the stench of the villagers’ blood.

Someone clambered onto the roof, slipping once, before righting themselves. Rion’s heart jolted and he shot to his feet, but kept his magic restrained. If they rounded the corner and saw him, perhaps he could render them unconscious. Great, now he was holding prisoners.

Rion peered around the corner and a male’s face paled when he glimpsed Rion in the shadows. Rion moved, launching forward, determined to knock the male out until Arianna called for him.

“Wait,” the male pleaded, raising his hands to shield himself. Rion paused, suddenly wondering if Arianna had sent him. He hadn’t felt her down the bond in a while. The male’s voice shook. “They have her.” Rion went very still. “They captured the queen and we don’t know what’s going on. We can’t find her.” His chest was heaving. “I heard her scream, but—”

Rion was moving before the male finished his sentence. His magic sprang to life and Rion no longer cared about secrecy. Not if Arianna was in danger.

What the hell was going on? What if whoever had attacked didn’t just want him gone, but wanted Arianna subdued as well? What if the rebel factions had broken in during the chaos? What if they’d been in the city the whole time and finally found the perfect moment to act?

Rion hit the ground hard, barely registering those who scrambled away from him in terror. They didn’t matter. Only Arianna mattered. That male had heard her scream . . .

Everything in his body recoiled at the thought, begging him to hurry, hurry, hurry.

He raced through the door, down the hall, following her scent. Rion desperately searched the bond, prodding her for anything. Was she hurt? Calling for him?

He furrowed his brow. She felt distressed, sure, but it didn’t feel any more so than what he’d sensed earlier. Unless the bond was having some kind of lapse. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t responded to him before. How long had she been in danger?

Rion sprinted toward the grand ballroom glad to find the hallways mostly devoid of life. The citizens had been corralled by the guards toward areas of safety. He’d read all about the plans put in place in the event of an emergency. They had three areas to usher residents toward, but the ballroom wasn’t part of those plans. Maybe they had moved the injured there until they could prepare rooms.

It was too open and the guards could easily be pinned inside. Was Arianna being held hostage and was she the only one? Where the hell was Niall?

A thousand questions flew through his mind but when Rion shoved open the heavy golden doors, he stilled.

The ballroom was well lit with sunlight filtering in through a few well-placed windows. The balcony doors were open, letting in a fresh breeze and standing in the middle was a single male who spun around at Rion’s sudden entrance.

A sadistic smile pulled at the corner of his lips.

Rion didn’t recognize the male’s face, but there was no mistaking the velvet black uniform embroidered with gold. One of Ruadhán’s elite.

“It took you long enough.”

Rion surveyed the balcony, the corners, then counted the weapons slung across the male’s torso. He stepped closer, ready to demand answers when Arianna’s scent slammed into him.

Rion’s body went unnaturally still. The male smiled wider, drinking in the emotions playing across Rion’s face. He couldn’t shake his fear, nor stop the images of her injured body from flashing through his mind.

This male had Arianna’s scent all over him. He smelled so much like her that—