Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Now, raised high into the skies of Rathe, at the edge of the Royal Estate, sits our new home.
Each wall among mine and London's wing, the north wing, tells a different story should you pause long enough to watch it. Our story and the paths that lead us to the crowns that sit on our heads. It's a reminder that every moment was one we fought for.
I will never stop fighting for her, for us, for our brothers, and our people.
It’s only been two weeks since we were given our roles and Rathe has never been stronger, our people never more united. Even the Argents.
They needed guidance and they hadn't experienced a hint of it since the death of their leaders and the forming of the Ministry. They see it now, why our father held strong, and fought against them at every turn.
Only those who understand the weight of a crown can carry the weight of their people.
We will hold them as strong as we will Stygians, as equal civilians of magic, so long as their loyalty remains ours. For now, it is. The moment that changes, and one day it will, they will be dealt with swiftly and without mercy.
“I smell fresh churned caramel and the sweet crack of fresh pepper.”
I look down the hall to find Haide coming around the corner and raising a dark brow.
“Plotting a massacre so soon, are we?” Her eyes glitter. “Who dies first?”
A low chuckle leaves me, and I shake my head, stepping out onto the levitating platform. Haide pops up by me, hiding something behind her back. “No massacres and no deaths today. Sorry, little psycho.”
“I know what I smelt. You were thinking about killing someone.”
I look out over the foyer below, royal staff members darting from one direction to another, everyone finalizing their tasks for the night. “You are good, I'll give you that, but it was more a metaphorical thought than an actual plan.”
She shrugs a shoulder, a smug expression taking over her face. “Knew it.”
The platform reaches the glittery black floor, and we step off, watching as it disappears into the air.
“Why are you in your gear?” I ask, looking down at the same outfit she wore the day we met.
“Don't want to leave any of my things behind.” My brows pull, but before I can ask, her hands come around revealing what she was keeping behind her back. “Here, I made this for you.”
My attention falls to the item she’s holding. “You made me something?”
“Are you going to take it or are you going to stare at it?” she snaps.
Fighting a smirk, I accept the black folded leather, my eyes lifting to hers when I realize what it is. “You made this for me?”
“I did.”
“With your hands?”
She looks at me funny, but that's because she doesn’t get it. Gifted use their gifts for manual labor. She didn’t do that with this. This is crafted, every intricate design, every stitch.
“As we already established, yes, I did. I made it for you. I can't stand another second knowing how unprepared you are by having a dagger sticking inside your pants. One wrong move, you could cut the goods. My friend wouldn't like that. Hence, the sheath.”
I don't bother pointing out the fact that we are Gifted and my best friend's a healer because that's not the point here. I learned everything about my girl's new friend when I was playing in her head a week ago—my new favorite pastime. The girl was born on Exile Island, hunting and fighting is all she knows, and in the eyes of a hunter, a warrior as she is, you sheath your fucking daggers.
“It has a spot you can slide your belt right through, and in case you aren't the belt type, there's also a little flap so you can attach it straight to the loop instead. It should be the exact size you need to hold that baby. You can hide it under your shirt for the element of surprise or wear it proudly for all to see. Your choice.”
With that, Haide gives a playful salute, turns around and starts down the hall.
“Haide!” I call out, and she glances over her shoulder with a raised brow. “Thank you.”
For the sheath and for all you did to help us get here, freeing London and fighting beside her. For being good to her, a stranger in her world, when even I couldn’t manage that.
I say none of this to her, but I don’t have to.
She knows. The girl winks and walks away.
Securing the dagger in place, a small smile finds my lips and I head for the pavilion, a giant basement level space with side walls that open to the galaxy and allow for cloud seating along the outer rim of the room.
Fuck me, I’ve missed a good party.