Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
It wasn’t as bad as the first time, but the heat was still there, and that incessant stabbing of the needle? It was gone.
It was gone until I walked out of her house mere minutes before she woke.
Creed lifts a dark brow and I lift my hands. “No. Nothing has changed.”
My brother doesn’t say another word. He squares up and we go two more rounds.
Death feels like darkness dragging its talons down my skin. I can’t move. My limbs are paralyzed. My mind buzzes as my eyes fly open and I’m staring up at the inkiness of the sky. Pluto swirls closer, with Venus not far behind. There’s no wind. Not a speck of nature flutters against my skin. I know what is happening. I’m trapped in a trance I have either created or fallen into unintentionally.
Fire ripples through my veins, leaving a shock wave of adrenaline in its wake, and I wiggle my fingers. Good. I can move them. Pushing up from the ground, I pause when I’m looking back at a snowstorm in front of me. Ice falls down from the dark sky, and I reach up to touch a falling flake, watching as it melts on the tip of my finger. No blizzard. No wind. But a snowstorm, silent and swirling around my body like a thief in the night.
I take a step forward, and ice snaps beneath my heavy boot. What the fuck is this? I’ve dreamed a lot in my years, most of it mundane bullshit that isn’t important. But this? This feels like a message and I am pretty sure I’d cut myself open so they could use my blood as ink. The ice goes on and on for miles. I can’t see anything but verglas. I turn from left to right, looking for any similarities that I may notice, but there’s nothing. The snow at my feet. I take another step and blood seeps through the stark white snow until all I see … is red.
Flicking the cushion of my thumb over the fang of my tooth, I suck down the droplet of blood. “What the fuck is happening and why do I think I know what it is?”
“Silence!” the headmistress calls through the speaker as we move in from the hall. The common room is where we all eat and listen for updates from our families. Circular tables line the space, where every group sits, based on their magic. It’s usually separated by Stygians and Argents, but lately, there has been a shift among the people of our generation. No one likes the separation anymore. We have light fucking with dark, and dark fucking with light. One hundred years ago that shit would never fly. I think over time, we all just gave up. “As I am sure that you have heard, there was an attack in one of the Dragon’s Lair last night.”
Whispers sound out as I reach forward and pick up the rolled blunt. Legend chuckles, his thigh hitting mine. “After you.”
I flick my index finger up slightly, calling on my pyrokinesis to spark the end. I bring it to my lips and inhale. Not that the headmistress will notice much. The common room is almost as big as two ice rinks, but of course we just so happen to be seated at the front. The walls are all licked rust red with ivory-colored trimmings. Oil paintings are encased by iron carved frames that almost fill every space, and the entire ceiling is made up of glass to showcase the planets orbiting above.
“The cause is under investigation and not something for you students to concern yourselves with. Do not allow this to distract you from your pre-trials this week. We are midway through the first term, so it’s important for you all to be focused. Your marks will be going against what classes you will fall into next year, and to all my second years, do not forget your designation trials begin next term. So again, I stress, do not allow this to distract you from your responsibilities here at Rathe U.”
Speak directly fucking to us Stygians, why the fuck don’t you? So much for “coexisting”.
We’ll always be set apart in the back of the minds of the Argents, no matter how much they pretend differently.
Creed sighs, leaning back in his chair as Sinner tosses a bottle of Fae dust onto his lap.
“Deverauxs!” the headmistress snaps, and my brothers all shift to look up at her, except me. I study the blunt carefully, watching as the embers crackle against the paper. “You are needed in your quarters.”
I push up from my chair and we all make our way out and to the elevator that takes us to our quarters, which just so happens to be at the very top of the common room.