The Dawn of the End Read online Kristen Ashley (The Rising #3)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Rising Series by Kristen Ashley
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Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 156907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
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I knew my man was unnerved with me beside him, even if my warriors and his surrounded us closely, there were many of us, and all were heavily armed, including Cassius and myself.

I also knew my betrothed could not make the statement he wished to make by hiding me in his Citadel.

He needed me seen.

He needed me strong.

He needed my head held high.

And that was how I rode beside him, wearing full Nadirii regalia, including my royal headband.

There did not appear to be more women in the streets during this journey than there were the day I had arrived, and again no children, but if I caught any gazes, if they were not staring at me with hate, I smiled.

I counted, and by the time we made the wharf, seven men had smiled back.

All tentatively.

But it was something.

I could not think long on that, for ahead was Slán Bailey, and in the now, we needed to dismount and board an odd boat with a strange paddlewheel at the back. It was somewhat square and had a canopy in the middle to make an interior portion to keep rain or mist from your clothing.

And I did not want to enter it.

On my feet or on Diana’s back, I could do anything.

In a boat?

I hid my discomfiture at this and followed Cass’s lead.

When he walked directly to the uncovered bow of the boat, I went there with him.

Two other such boats filled with our guard would go with us, the rest of our guard remaining ashore.

But in our boat was Cass, me, Jazz, Hera, Mac, Ian and Nero.

I kept silent and stood next to Cassius as we broke away from the dock.

And I watched the daunting Bailey get closer as the men who labored at paddles that somehow rounded the wheel at the back propelled us.

Slán Bailey was close enough to reach by boat in a short period of time, but it was far enough away, in the unlikelihood a prisoner should escape, unless they were in the best of health, they would find it impossible to swim the distance to shore.

However, through the cold, choppy waters, even for the healthiest of prisoners, it would be a self-imposed death sentence.

It was, I could see, a pentagram of five towers connected by curtain walls. The entirety was built to the very edge of the ragged cliffs that made up the boundaries of the island. There was one ingress, thus, one egress, the front gate with its dock below. One tower, the one at the back, was rather low, perhaps four stories. The one facing Sky Bay was very high, at least nine. The other three were six.

Long, thin, black pennants flew atop all of them.

Fortunately, we made the dock of Slán Bailey without incident.

Cass did not wait for all three boats to arrive.

He took my hand in his, lifted it to press to the side of his chest, and immediately led us up the pier, to the gate and through it.

A man not in the black leathers of the Airenzian army, but instead wearing black wool trousers tucked into black boots with a thick black wool sweater with a rolltop neck and epaulettes sewn at his shoulders greeted us.

As he got close, I saw he also had stitched over his left chest in black thread an insignia that looked like a window covered in crossed bars.

He bowed smartly and said, “Your Grace.” I watched him carefully and continued to do so as he straightened only to shift my way, bow again and repeat, “Your Grace.”

“My betrothed is not fond of bowing, Reginald,” Cass drawled.

The man lifted and grinned at Cassius.

I was surprised at this response, but I just kept watching.

“Of course,” he said and turned his grin to me. “A Nadirii at the Bailey, here to assist in questioning prisoners,” he stated openly gleeful. “My wife is currently at her window on the shore with a telescope, hoping to catch sight of this historical event across the water.”

“You should have allowed her to come to be a party to it,” I replied.

“Hells no,” he said on a whoosh of air, and I stiffened. “She’d be right in all my business. ‘Reginald, you must trim the fat on the meat you give your inmates. Fat is not healthy. They need lean meats.’ And ‘Reginald, just look at the state of these blankets. Bring them home in batches. I’ll gather my women and mend them.’” He looked to Cassius. “As if prisoners deserve decent blankets. Crikey.”

I turned astonished eyes over my shoulder to look at both Jazz and Hera.

Jazz was staring at Reginald with her lips parted in surprise.

Hera looked like she was about ready to laugh.

“Righty ho!” Reginald cried with more excitement than was healthy in this dismal place with its thick black walls that veritably wept moisture. “Let us get you about your business so you can get away from here and home. Which do you want first? Her honorable Horatia or the man who once was king.”


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