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)
A small jewel is pressed into the center of it and when she glances at me over her shoulder, I spot matching ones pressed into her skin at her temples. Her eyes are as dark as her hair and her lips a thick mauve color. She looks like some kind of warrior princess who just stepped off a mythical battlefield.
She smiles and I realize I've been checking her out for the last five minutes.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she says in that raspy tone of hers, her gaze traveling over me. “You’re not so bad yourself, little one.”
Right. She must be an easy five-nine. Maybe taller.
Fuck, I probably look like some wallowing, weak excuse of a woman to her.
I'm all five feet, eyes puffy red from tears, and I probably have dried vomit on my knees. My arms are wrapped around my middle to try and dull the ache.
Little L.
Little London.
Little Doll.
I wince as the Deveraux boys’ voices assault me all at once, shaking off the strange vibration that throbs deep inside my mind.
Thankfully, the girl begins talking, so I work extra hard to focus on her.
“So, like I said, this is Exile Island. Considering the way you looked at the dragons, I'm going to assume you’re not completely familiar, so let me break it down like you’re a newbie. This place is for the unwanted, untamed, and uncontrollable. Most people assume it’s all about the bad guys being kicked to the curb for bad shit, but that’s not exactly true. Nearly a hundred percent of the Gifted here are Stygian. They did do bad shit, but bad by the Ministry's terms. Some are here for as little as refusing to go to Rathe for university, others killed in cold blood according to the people who sentenced them.”
“So, no one is really all that threatening?” I ask, hoping for the right answer.
“Oh, no.” She laughs. “They’re all threatening at this point and, girl, don’t get me wrong. I was only getting started. We do have murderers, feral shifters, and downright psychopaths. We have people who lost faith in the Dark Crown, others who hate the Ministry, and those who rebel against it all. Those who weren’t so dangerous when they arrived, are now, because this place exists to drive you mad.”
She pauses, the black stone path ending a half an inch before her boots. She opens the pouch at her left side, pulling out a small fistful of glittery black dust. She blows it in a straight line before her.
The rocky path leading to the tree line several miles away begins to blur until a black hole opens in the center of it, revealing the truth—the distant path is an illusion meant to block out what’s on the other side.
The girl looks back at me. “If the Giftless were to stumble upon the island, this little trick would keep them walking in place for miles and miles.” She smirks, sweeping a hand out as if proud. “After you.”
“Has that ever happened?” I wonder.
She nods. “Couple times. They were drained dry by the vamps within minutes of landing.” She shrugs. “The illusion is the result of the last one, and hey, that helicopter they flew in on gave us shit we never thought we’d come across. Anyway. Go.”
Pulling in a full breath, I step through the opening, my eyes widening as I take in the site. The concrete buildings and old huts are built deep in the trees I spotted when the dragon flew us closer, and for the first time, I spot more Gifted. A few dangle by their legs from tree branches, while others fight and wrestle in a giant bed of mud.
There's shouting from the left and deep growls from the right and my feet slow.
“This is a calm afternoon.” She notices my hesitation and turns to fully face me for the first time. “I guess I should just tell you now, if it wasn’t obvious already. You're going to hate it here. It's not a question, just a fact. You’re officially alone as far as your past life goes, and it will never get better. The pain will never dull. This isn’t one of those everything heals with time situations. On Exile Island, it’s the opposite.” She looks behind her and back to me again.
“You’re completely blocked from everyone outside of this place. To them, you no longer exist, other than in their memories, but they’re not blocked from you.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning if you’re connected to someone, or like running in a pack or something that links you to others, you will feel them every single day, always, but they won’t know that. They’ll feel nothing from you, so in time … they will heal and forget you, but you will never be offered the same reprieve. It’s a twisted game the Ministry likes to play with us. Torture without touch, we like to call it. Judging by the way you came out of the cave, it revealed some fucked-up shit to you. And based on my experience, I’d say you have a mate. Sorry, but you’ll feel him for the rest of your life and unfortunately, there’s no way for you to take your own here. It’s literally the only magic that’s blocked here. Temporary death is a common tool all of us use, but permanent?” She shakes her head, her long dark hair falling over her shoulders in massive waves. “The Ministry would never allow us such luxury.”