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)
My palm drives up into his jaw in the same breath, forcing his head back hard enough to make bone crack. Before the sound’s even finished, my other hand’s already drawn the dagger from my thigh.
The blade flashes once. Quick and clean across his throat.
Three seconds.
He collapses to the floor with a wet, choking gasp, blood blooming bright against the black stone. His wide eyes fixate on me but quickly lose focus.
I crouch beside him and tap his cheek. “What was that now?”
Gasps erupt around the room, sharp and panicked. A chair screeches back, someone shouts for a healer, and the faint metallic tang of blood floods the air. The runes on the floor flare to life in a blaze of gold, binding my arms to my sides in a cage of light.
I glance down at them and smirk. “Cute trick. Are these magical bars?”
The heavy doors at the far end of the chamber slam open.
And what do you fucking know. It’s the bossy big brother himself.
Creed walks in like the room was built to make an entrance for him.
Honestly, it might have been. What do I know about royal rituals and whatnot? Never had one of those on the island before.
His long coat sweeps behind him as he moves with the kind of stillness that makes everyone else feel like they’re fidgeting too much. The ropes pinning me don’t disappear, but they yank my arms back out of his way.
His eyes find me instantly. “Of course it’s you.”
I grin at him, leaning forward just enough to make the chains hum. “You’re a real dick, you know that?”
The entire room gasps, an actual wave of sound rolling through the students. I’m confused until I remember this is one of their kings.
I’m guessing kings don’t get talked to like this. At least not in public or without repercussion anyway.
Creed doesn’t react in the slightest, his gaze never breaking from mine as he speaks to the rest of the room. “Class dismissed. This little thing is coming with me.” Without another word, he turns on his heel and stalks toward the door. He must just assume I’ll follow because he doesn’t check to see if I’m behind him.
The ropes vanish with a hiss, and I roll my shoulders. “If I had known you were the school’s new babysitter, I would have tried harder to kill the guy. Make your little trip down here worthwhile.”
That earns me a ripple of horrified whispers from the stragglers who haven’t scurried out yet. Creed doesn’t so much as twitch.
We step into the corridor, the heavy doors sealing behind us with a solid thud. Out here, the air is cooler, and the sound of the class vanishes into a silence thick enough to chew. The hall stretches long and vaulted, ribbed with black stone arches and lit by braziers that burn with slow green fire. Every step echoes like the building’s judging me.
Creed’s pace is measured, unhurried, each stride a study in control. I match it out of pure spite, refusing to jog just to keep up.
“Is this the part where you lecture me about playing nice with the other kids?” I ask, dragging my fingertips along the rough stone wall. It hums faintly under my skin, old magic prickling like static.
“This is the part,” he says without looking at me, “where I decide if you’re worth the trouble of keeping you alive.”
I grin. “Aw, that’s practically a compliment. You must really like me.”
“I don’t,” he says flatly, and gods, it’s so dry I almost laugh. “But my brother does because he’s not in his right mind.”
That digs under my ribs in a way I don’t like. I mask it by sighing dramatically. “Oh, so this is about Legend. You’re jealous.”
That gets me the faintest flicker of his eyes in my direction, cool as winter steel. “Jealous implies wanting something he has.”
“Right,” I say. “You just wish you could pull off black leather like I do.”
His mouth twitches. It’s tiny, but it’s there. Victory.
We pass through an archway into a side hall, this one lined with narrow windows that leak pale light onto the floor in broken stripes. Creed stops without warning, turning to face me. “You will not kill another student.”
I tip my head. “Even if they deserve it?”
“Especially if they deserve it.” His voice is calm, but there’s a razor under it. “This place is held together by politics and the illusion of civility. If you shatter either, you make my life harder. Make my life harder, and I will ruin yours. You agreed to behave. We had a deal and you are not holding up your end.”
I pretend his words don’t draw a hint of panic, tapping my chin. “So what you’re saying is…kill them where no one can see.”
“Haide.”
“Creed.” I mirror his tone exactly, mocking him with a straight face.