Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Haide steps out of the ripple like she’s walking off a stage. No stumble. No tell. Like the world moves to make room for her. As it fucking should for a future queen of Rathe.
Her gaze flicks to the Leviathan tooth mounted over my desk, the knives lined spine-out above the hearth, and finally to the couch nobody sits on because I don’t invite people here. Her chin tilts toward me. That look can strip paint.
“That was a nice power nap.” She crosses her arms, her eyes rolling over me. “So why do you still look like shit?”
“You’re adorable when you’re concerned.” I shrug off the throb behind my left eye and the iced-iron drag in my limbs. “Just need more sleep.” I knock my knuckles against my thigh. Stay upright. Stay present. “You survived and got out of the maze.”
“You set me up to drown.” She glares. “Literally.”
“You set yourself up to fight back.” I let the grin slip out. “You did.”
Her mouth wants to smile. She doesn’t let it. “You’re full of shit.”
“Consistently.”
The door swings without a knock and I know who it is without looking or using my damn senses.
Sinner never knocks because manners bore him. He leans on the jamb with one hand, black shirt open at the throat, an unlit cigarette teasing his lip, eyes bright with the kind of humor that usually ends with someone bleeding.
“Family meeting,” he says, like it’s a joke. “Creed and Knight in the bone room. Bring your crown and the stick up your ass.”
Haide lifts a brow at him. “You let your pets talk to you like that?”
“The ones with teeth,” I say. “Wait here.”
She snorts. “Make me.”
I take two steps like I’ll indulge the argument. I don’t. I don’t have the time to burn my temper down into something soft and warm and useless.
“Stay.” I meet her stare. My voice drops. “I’m not asking.”
She bares her teeth. Pretty. Dangerous. “Go fuck yourself, Royal.”
“Charming,” Sinner murmurs, amused.
I shoulder past him and, when my mouth is near his ear, pitch the words low. “Bind the room.”
He does so discreetly as he follows me out, flashing his teeth in a grin. “You sure you want me to collar your little monster? As you said, she bites.”
“She’ll try.”
“What’s the matter?” He laughs against his cig. “You forgetting your knots? Bind it yourself.”
I keep walking, voice level. “Something’s wrong with my magic.”
The humor tilts, curiosity sliding in. “Since when?”
“Since it started fucking choking on me.”
“The calm not hitting?”
“Among other things…” I grumble, picturing Haide’s protests already as she tries to break out of the royal room.
We move through the hall. Old stone eats sound. It’s almost quiet, but really, it’s just the sound of everyone listening. Banners crawl with their own faint magic, old colors and older grudges stitched into them in gold, black, and purple. Students watch us from doorways yet pretend they aren’t. They’re amusing, to say the least. Every year, we have a new load dropped, but this is the first year that the school is entirely run by us Deveraux Brothers. I’m certain that’s the single most terrifying thing to them. As it should be.
Sinner whistles under his breath. “You look like death fucked you. How was the wild animal with her first train?”
“Fine,” I mutter, cracking my neck. “She doesn’t hold the same gift, though, if that’s what you’re asking.” It would be. Nosy bastard.
His laugh cackles through the air. “You really had to test that? That girl is fucking chaos. Ain’t nothing calm about that.” He taps ash from a cigarette that isn’t lit. Habit. Tell.
“She’s not a girl.”
He nods in agreement. “She’s a bomb.”
“Then we can all watch her explode.” My eyes flicker with something I’d assume looks like mania. “Because she’s going nowhere.”
He shakes his head, grin deepening. “You know you’re gonna need to send her to Arabella. With whatever magic manifests within her, and if she really is your mate—
“She is.”
“Her Ethos will start to rise within her at some point, and she’s gonna need Arabella to”—his hands wave around the place—“control all that chaos.”
I know he’s right, but the thought of Haide being anywhere near Arabella has the hairs on the back of my neck rising. Not because I give a fuck about the soft little lamb, but because Arabella is basically the fucking princess of the Argents. Since we’ve eradicated the council, I’m gonna go ahead and assume that if we bring any more heat by harming yet another Argent, it’ll just give their people more of a reason to stir.
Bone Room doors swing open with a shove. Without everyone in here, its emptiness feels…just that.
Empty.
Knight sits slouched in his chair, lazy on purpose, all coiled lines and deadpan eyes, but it’s Creed who concerns me. For whatever reason, which I’m no doubt about to hear right now, he hates Haide. His finger taps against the table but his eyes follow me. I love our big brother, but he’s the most like Father. I used to think all his good parts…but recently, I’ve seen a lot of the bad, too.