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)
I blink. Process. “You’ve lost it.”
“Probably.” She grins. “But so have you, or you wouldn’t be here.”
Fair.
I turn back to the window, letting her work. The silence stretches, not uncomfortable, just present. The kind of quiet I’m not used to with people.
“How long have you worked here?”
“Since I was sixteen. My mother before me. Her mother before that.” Her fingers dance through another section. “We’re good at what we do.”
“Which is?”
“Making Royals look less feral.” She laughs again.” And occasionally keeping them from killing one another.”
I almost smile. Almost. “That happen often?”
“More than you’d think.” She secures the last pin. “Legend’s the easiest, though.”
My spine straightens. I try to make it look natural. “Is he?”
“Absolutely.” She steps back, assessing her work. “Creed’s too intense. Knight’s too quiet, which is worse. Sinner’s—” She shudders. “Sinner. But Legend? He’s cheeky. Playful. Dangerous, yes, but in a way that feels intentional. Controlled.”
Controlled.
The word sits wrong. Legend doesn’t control anything. He collides with it. Bends it. Breaks it if it doesn’t bend.
“You like him,” I say.
“Everyone likes Legend.” Emmie circles around to face me, tilting her head. “Even when they shouldn’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” But her smile says otherwise. “Just that he has a way of making people feel safe when they’re around him. Like he’s got everything handled even when the world’s burning.”
My stomach twists. Because I do feel that. That stupid, irrational sense of security when he’s near. Like I could burn the entire campus down and he’d just laugh and hand me more matches.
“Is that his magic?” I ask. “His Ethos or whatever?”
Emmie’s brow furrows. “No. The royal Ethos rises only after a mating bond. It’s his principal power, the one he was born with, inherited from Queen Cosimo’s bloodline. He can manipulate the mind. His is mind sedation. He can calm, make people feel at ease. But—” She hesitates. “It doesn’t work if you don’t already trust him on some level. Magic can’t force feeling. It can only amplify what’s already there.”
Fuck.
So it’s not just his power. It’s me. I trust him. On some primal, ridiculous level, I trust Legend Deveraux.
I want to hate that realization.
I don’t.
Emmie moves to the vanity, organizing bottles and brushes. “Let me guess. You’re trying to figure out if what you feel is real or manufactured.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.” She doesn’t look at me. “Everyone does when they’re around the Deveraux brothers. Especially if they’re bonded.”
My jaw tightens. “I’m not bonded.”
“Right.” The word drips skepticism. “That’s why you smell like him. Why his scent is woven so deep into your skin I could track you across campus blindfolded.”
“That’s—”
“Denial?” She finally looks at me, eyes sharp. “Look, I don’t know what you two are to each other. But whatever it is, it’s loud. Everyone can feel it.”
I turn back to the window, arms crossing tighter. Below, students mill around the fountain, laughing, shoving, living normal lives where they don’t wake up covered in blood or get accused of murder.
And then I see him.
Legend.
Standing near the quad’s edge, leaning against the low stone wall like he owns it. Because he does. He owns everything here.
He’s talking to someone. A girl.
Tall. Slim. Hair like spun gold catching the fading sunlight. She’s wearing a pale blue dress that looks expensive and delicate and everything I’m not. She laughs at something he says, touching his arm.
My hands curl into fists.
“Who is that?” I ask.
Emmie follows my gaze. Her expression shifts. Hardens. “Arabella.”
“And?”
“And she’s just Arabella.” Emmie’s voice goes flat. Careful. “Daughter of one of the higher Argent families. Pretty. Ambitious. The kind of girl who thinks proximity to power makes her powerful.”
“She’s touching him a lot for someone who’s just ambitious.” I will not show my whole ass and expose my jealousy, but something about Emmie puts me at ease. Or maybe I’m drunk on the air.
Emmie doesn’t answer right away. When she does, her tone’s measured. “I guess she’s trying to secure her position, especially since there are no longer any Argents in any power positions.”
“Secure her position?” I blink. “By fucking Legend?”
Her eyes flutter. “I don’t think she’s fussy with the who, Haide.”
Jealousy claws up my throat. Hot. Vicious. Completely irrational. I barely know Legend. Barely trust him. And yet the sight of her hand on his arm makes me want to portal down there and remove that hand at the wrist.
Except I can’t fucking portal and, judging by the shoes in Emmie’s hands, I won’t be able to run in those, either.
“You don’t like her,” I say.
“I don’t trust her.” Emmie crosses her arms. “She’s too calculating. Too clean. Like she’s never gotten her hands dirty and doesn’t plan to start.”
I watch Legend laugh. He looks relaxed. Easy. The way he does when he’s pretending not to be dangerous.
Arabella leans closer.
My vision tunnels.
“Haide.”
Emmie’s voice pulls me back. I blink, realizing I’ve stepped toward the window like I’m about to launch through it.